Hello, Codeforces!

It's been a while since I last seriously participated in competitive programming. I've thought about coming back many times, but today I want to share something a little different from an algorithm or a contest experience.

I've always loved competing. Not just winning, but facing difficult problems, challenging myself, and discovering how far I could go. Whether it was competitive programming, research, or simply learning something new, I loved pursuing things that seemed almost impossible.

But sometimes life changes in ways we could never anticipate.

In 2025, I was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, a progressive retinal disease. My night vision and peripheral vision were already severely compromised, and I was told I might have around five years of useful sight left.

I was terrified. Suddenly, everything seemed pointless. I knew I could still learn and accomplish things without sight, but I couldn't imagine losing the life I knew. It felt as though everything I dreamed of had been overshadowed by something I couldn't stop.

The strange thing was that my academic and professional performance didn't decline. I continued studying, working, and fulfilling my responsibilities just as I always had. But the things I used to do simply because I loved them were different. Competitive programming, playing piano or violin, and even sharing what I knew with others no longer brought me the happiness they once had. Little by little, I stopped doing many of those things.

From the outside, very little seemed to have changed. Inside, I felt almost nothing. When someone reminded me of my past achievements, I knew they were talking about me, yet those memories felt as though they belonged to someone else. I couldn't connect the person I remembered with the person living my life. Sometimes I cried; other times I felt completely empty, even when I wasn't alone.

I didn't want to become someone different. I just wanted to feel like myself again.

My family stood by me throughout that time, even when I couldn't explain what I was feeling. I also received encouragement from people I'll always be grateful for. I tried returning to things that once made me happy, and at one point, almost instinctively, I helped someone who needed to study. But even then, I couldn't feel the connection I was searching for.

Then, during the first week of May 2026, something unexpected happened.

I was alone in my room when I noticed a blue hardcover book on my shelf. I picked it up and realized it was something I had written when I was fifteen, filled with my dreams, experiences, and thoughts about pursuing what matters to us. I'd written it hoping to inspire others to follow their dreams with everything they had.

I never imagined that, years later, I would be the one who needed those words.

As I read, I remembered not only what I wanted to accomplish, but why. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt connected to myself again. I was happy because I could finally recognize myself, and sad because I couldn't believe how long I'd spent feeling like a stranger in my own life.

The book I'd written to inspire others ended up inspiring me.

A few days later, something happened that I still find almost unbelievable. Someone I thought I would never hear from again suddenly contacted me. She had once been one of my closest friends, but we'd lost contact two years earlier, and I hadn't known what had happened to her.

We had shared competitions, research, dreams, and ideals. When we started talking again, she reminded me of experiences we'd had together, including moments I'd completely forgotten. Hearing those stories brought back memories that had felt lost to me for so long.

She also wanted to help me return to the things I used to love. She even had ideas for activities we could enjoy together, just as we had shared so many interests before. We talked about the life we'd once dreamed of, filled with learning, curiosity, competitions, and seemingly impossible goals. Despite the difficulties she'd experienced, she still believed in those dreams.

To her, she was simply being herself, reconnecting with an old friend. To me, those conversations and her willingness to share those experiences again meant more than she could imagine.

Little by little, I returned to swimming, piano, violin, and astronomy. I took out my old telescope and, for the first time, saw Saturn's rings. I can't describe how wonderful that felt. My family, friends, that book, and my own efforts had all played a part. I wasn't trying to return to the past. I simply wanted to feel like myself again and enjoy the life I was still living.

Recently, I visited my retinal specialist again. He explained that my disease was already advanced and had an unusual presentation: despite my severely compromised visual field and night vision, the characteristic retinal pigmentation wasn't clearly visible. I couldn't help finding a little irony in having retinitis pigmentosa without visible pigment.

But his message was serious. He told me that I could lose my remaining vision soon, although no one could predict exactly when. He encouraged me to enjoy the vision I still have and reminded me that, ultimately, only God had the final say.

Those words were difficult to hear. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. But this time, something was different. I don't want that fear to take away the life I still have. There are so many things I want to learn, discover, create, and share with others. I don't know what the future will bring, but I know I want to keep moving forward, searching for solutions and pursuing my dreams, even when the path becomes difficult.

I may not be able to choose what happens to my vision, but I don't want to lose myself to that uncertainty again. I want to keep doing what I love, appreciating the people around me, and finding reasons to smile along the way.

Later, while practicing violin and thinking about everything I'd been through, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time: nostalgia and pride. Pride in being able to enjoy the things I love again, and in finally feeling like myself.

So why share this story here? Because behind every Codeforces handle, there's a person with a life we cannot fully see. Someone might stop competing or disappear for months. Someone else might keep performing well while quietly struggling. We can't know what someone is going through just by looking at their rating or achievements.

Maybe someone reading this has been feeling lost, has stopped enjoying something they once loved, or is going through something so difficult that they can't imagine things getting better. If that's you, I want you to know that you're not alone.

I know that hearing someone tell you to be strong doesn't magically make things better. There were times when I couldn't even recognize myself, much less imagine feeling happy again. But things can change, sometimes in ways we never expect. It might take time, support, or something that reminds you of what matters to you. You don't have to figure everything out today, and asking for help doesn't mean you've given up.

Somewhere in this community, there's someone who once felt completely lost too, and who eventually found his way back. If you ever feel like talking, you're welcome to send me a message. I may not have all the answers, but I'd be happy to listen when I can.

As for me, I still intend to compete, study, do research, and search for ways to contribute to a solution for my disease. Some attempts may fail, and I may need help or a different approach, but I have no intention of giving up on that search.

And I still carry the dream I wrote about at fifteen: helping build a world where more people have the chance to pursue their own dreams.

Thank you for reading my story. From the bottom of my heart, I hope that whatever you're facing, you find the support, hope, and opportunities to keep pursuing what matters to you. Even when the road ahead seems uncertain, there may still be beautiful things waiting to be discovered.

See you in the next contest. <3