Make. Break. Build Again.

I built my first robot with bottle caps, a motor from an old car, and a battery. It barely managed to drive a few meters before crashing straight into the wall.

But that day, it wasn’t just the robot that moved—it was the spark of my passion for robotics, setting me on a path of creativity, curiosity, and discovery. That simple machine, flawed as it was, showed me the joy of building something with my own hands and ignited a desire to keep pushing boundaries, no matter how small the steps.

I didn’t have access to proper kits or tutorials. Just scraps, tools, and the urge to make something move. I would spend hours taking apart broken toys and old electronics, trying to figure out what made them tick. Most of the time, things didn’t work. Wires came loose. Motors refused to spin. Circuits smoked. But somehow, I couldn’t stop. Because every small win—like a blinking LED or a humming motor—felt like a miracle I had created myself.

Then came WRO.

At my first WRO (World Robot Olympiad) competition, I saw something that changed everything: other teens just like me, obsessed with sensors, code, gears, and logic. We didn’t all speak the same language, but we all spoke robot. That moment shifted something inside me.

Robotics wasn’t just a lonely passion anymore. It became a team sport. And I thrived in it.

Since then, robotics has become more than just a subject. It’s how I think. It’s how I see the world—through systems, sensors, feedback loops, and optimization. I’ve built bots, coded software, soldered circuits, and sometimes completely failed. But I’ve always come back. Because I wasn’t just building machines.

I was building myself.

To anyone out there with just scraps on the table and a wild idea in your head—start anyway. Build badly. Break things. Fix them. Learn. Your first robot doesn’t need to work perfectly. It just needs to move you.

“Make it exist. Then make it look good.”~ Some instagram reel.