This isn't a resume.

This is how I got here.

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It started with one question — how does a website actually work?

But questions like that don't stay small.

How does an OS juggle a hundred programs? How does one click become packets, become light in a wire, become a page?

So I went down the layers.

HTML, CSS, JavaScript on the surface — operating systems, networks, databases underneath.

Then React, Node, MongoDB. Suddenly I could build the whole thing.

First real build: a food ordering platform.

Auth, payments, a cart that worked — the first time both ends were mine.

Someone hungry, a kitchen ready to cook, and my code in between.

That became the pattern I can't let go of:

two people who need each other, and no good way to meet.

I build the way between them.

Then curiosity stopped being polite.

I wanted all of it — every layer between a keystroke and a pixel,

every LeetCode problem, websites built for no reason but fun.

Not for marks. Not for a job. Just to know.

Next: students with questions, mentors with answers — and email chaos in between.

So I built the Query Portal. Every query tracked, nothing lost.

Now the biggest one yet.

Restaurants throw good food away every night while someone nearby would gladly buy it.

LeftoverEats is my answer — in progress, and the hardest thing I've attempted.

Alongside it: system design, a first open-source contribution,

and this portfolio — built one obsessive detail at a time.

When I'm not building, I'm probably lost in a game — new worlds, great stories, challenges that look impossible at first.

Lose. Respawn. Study the boss. Take another route.

Somewhere in there, games changed how I look at failure — hard problems stopped being walls, just levels I haven't cleared yet.

“Do not be sorry. Be better.”

That one stayed with me. A mistake isn't the end — it's another chance to improve.

None of this happens without somewhere to put the noise.

For me, that's running. Whenever I'm stressed, restless, bored — I run.