Before we dive into the stories, I want you to know who I am — not just on the surface, but at the level of the soul. And maybe, as time goes on, you’ll let me see who you are too.

I know that lowering your guard isn’t easy. Vulnerability feels risky. You might get rejected, abandoned, or labeled as weak. But here’s the truth: vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s courage. It takes strength to show the world who you really are. And if you’ve ever felt insecure, you’re not alone. Everyone carries their own set of flaws and fears. From investors on Wall Street to the prom queen in high school. From Christians and Muslims who pray in different ways, to bodybuilders with sculpted frames, to prisoners locked away for crimes big or small. From CEOs and interns tapping on keyboards, to tradespeople keeping our world running. From addicts on the sidewalk to celebrities in mansions — every one of us is carrying pain beneath the surface.

That’s what connects us.

But somewhere along the way, humanity forgot our similarities and started obsessing over our differences. We divide ourselves by race, religion, politics, gender, wealth, or looks. Yet none of us asked to be born who we are. A Black person could just as easily have been born white. A Democrat could’ve been born a Republican. A rich kid could’ve been born poor. We are all products of environment, trauma, belief systems, biology, and chance. Nobody chose their skin color, their genetics, their birthplace, or their height. Yet we judge each other for things none of us ever controlled. That’s why I write.

That’s why this blog exists.

I want to remind you — remind all of us — that under the masks and costumes we wear to survive, we’re the same. The person beside you who looks different, thinks different, or votes different, is another you. So let this space be a bridge. A place where walls come down. Where vulnerability is courage, not weakness. And where we remember what Bob Marley preached: One Love