For an agonizing minute, I gazed intently into the depths of a computerized message telling me that the CD’s contents were 10% loaded… 25% ...64% … 87% … and finally, complete. In a flash of black screen, they appeared. For a wrinkle in time, I sat, awestruck. What I saw before me, was the epitome of my very existence. It was the part that swooned over the raw, inspirational characters that populated my favorite books. It was the part that elicited copious amounts of water to stream from my eyes while watching My Sister’s Keeper. It was the part that found an extreme obsession with chemistry puns, but only periodically. Most importantly, it was the part that handed me an identity and defined me as the person I am today. I knew my goal: to find answers. And so with the internet as my only ally in the quest for knowledge, I forged on. Diving into analyzing, studying, and searching for the answers to my questions, my curiosity knew no limits. Scouring images and articles online, I was determined to uncover the secret that the images of my brain held. After consulting several sources and comparing my brain to affected images of others, I came to a conclusion: my MRI was clear. With an air of unjustified confidence, I declared to my parents that yes, I was happily