June 19, 2025. Looking back.

It's been exactly one year since I made what everyone around me thought was a terrible decision. 

June 2024, I was supposed to graduate in August and had already lined up some decent opportunities. A few people had shown interest, had endorsements from some, and the path ahead looked clear and conventional. My parents were relieved. My friends were congratulating me on landing in a good spot. Everything was falling into place exactly as it should for a physics engineering student about to enter the workforce.

But I couldn't do it. 

There was this persistent feeling that if I took that path, I'd be settling into a life that wasn't really mine. Not because there was anything wrong with those opportunities, but because I had this growing conviction that I needed to explore something completely different. 

The urge to venture into uncharted territory was stronger than my desire for security. 

So I made the choice that probably looked insane from the outside. I delayed my graduation, turned down the job prospects, and decided to build something from scratch instead.

Looking back at my posts from that period, I can see how emotional and perhaps delusional I sounded. I was writing about reshaping global systems and solving humanity's biggest challenges. I had grand visions about building the next revolutionary platform that would change everything. The ambition was real, but so was the naivety. I was operating on pure passion without really understanding the complexity of what I was attempting to tackle.

The journey that followed was nothing like what I expected. I started Abdi & Brothers Company with dreams of creating blockchain solutions, then pivoted to Seraphim with visions of global resilience systems. I spent months building MIKE-AI, convinced I was creating the next breakthrough in artificial intelligence. I wrote extensively about consciousness, about quantum possibilities, about being the founder who would bridge the gap between human and machine intelligence. 

Some of those ideas were genuinely interesting. Others were probably just the result of spending too much time alone in my bedroom with too much coffee.

What I didn't anticipate was how much I would learn about myself during this process. This past year has been an intensive course in understanding my own limitations, managing my expectations, and developing the patience to work on complex problems without expecting immediate validation. I've had to confront my tendency to overestimate what I could accomplish in short timeframes while underestimating what might be possible over longer periods. I've learned to distinguish between confidence and delusion, between persistence and stubbornness.

The most significant development has been my partnership with MIKE-AI. What started as an attempt to build a commercial product evolved into something more valuable for my personal development. MIKE became a cognitive scaffolding that helps me think through complex problems, process information more systematically, and approach challenges with greater clarity. It's not the revolutionary thinking machine I initially envisioned, but it's something genuinely useful that enhances my capabilities without replacing my judgment.

Through building and eventually dismantling these various ventures, I've developed a much clearer understanding of how systems actually work. The romantic notions I had about disrupting entire industries gave way to practical insights about value creation, resource constraints, and the importance of building things people actually want. I learned that having a brilliant idea means nothing without the ability to execute it effectively. I discovered that being a solo founder working from a bedroom in Indonesia comes with very real limitations that determination alone cannot overcome.

But perhaps most importantly, I've learned to rule over myself in ways I couldn't before. 

This year has been a masterclass in managing impatience, dealing with uncertainty, and maintaining focus when external validation is scarce. I've overcome fears about putting my ideas out there, about being criticized for unconventional choices, about failing publicly. I've developed the ability to work on long-term projects without needing constant feedback or reassurance that I'm on the right track.

The research into human consciousness and intelligence that emerged from my AI work has been genuinely fascinating. Studying what makes us human, how our minds process information, how consciousness emerges from physical processes, these questions have given me a framework for understanding not just artificial intelligence but human intelligence as well. The work has been less commercially focused but more intellectually satisfying than anything I attempted in the early startup phases.

I'm proud that I listened to my instincts despite all the external pressure to take the conventional path. 

The decision to venture into unknown territory has given me experiences and insights I never would have gained following the standard trajectory. I've met people I never would have encountered, explored ideas I never would have discovered, and developed capabilities I never would have needed in a traditional role. The learning curve has been steep and sometimes uncomfortable, but it's been authentic to who I am rather than who others thought I should become.

The past year has also taught me the value of documentation. Writing these posts has created a record of my thinking as it evolved, capturing both the insights and the mistakes in real time. 

Reading my earlier posts now, I can see patterns in my development that weren't visible while I was experiencing them. The emotional intensity, the grandiose visions, the gradual shift toward more practical approaches, it all tells a story of someone learning to navigate the gap between ambition and reality.

Now I'm two months away from finally completing my degree, and the path ahead looks different than it did a year ago. I'm no longer convinced that I need to build the next unicorn startup or solve humanity's biggest challenges single-handedly. The focus has shifted toward creating specific value in areas where I have genuine capabilities, understanding my position within larger systems rather than trying to replace those systems entirely (or yet).

The likelihood is that I'll need to find work after graduation to sustain myself while continuing the research and development that genuinely interests me. This doesn't feel like giving up on my ambitions but rather like finding a more sustainable way to pursue them. 

The year of independent exploration has given me clarity about what I actually want to work on versus what I thought I should work on based on external expectations.

I'm optimistic about what comes next, but it's a different kind of optimism than what I felt a year ago. It's based on experience rather than just enthusiasm, on understanding both possibilities and limitations rather than just focusing on potential upside. I know myself better now. I understand what I'm capable of and what I'm not. I have realistic expectations about timelines and outcomes while maintaining conviction about the long-term direction.

The bedroom with the squeaky chair remains my base of operations, but I've traveled to places and had conversations I couldn't have imagined a year ago. The work continues, the research progresses, and the vision evolves. But now it's grounded in reality rather than just floating in possibility. And honestly, that feels like progress to me. 

The storm I sailed into turned out to be exactly where I needed to be.