The white fields outside my window never limited me—they taught me to grow where I was planted. Cotton fields stretched as far as I could see from my classroom window—a constant reminder of how different my rural upbringing was from students in cities with their fancy research programs and well-funded opportunities. That changed when my grandfather, dying of cancer overseas, asked me one simple question: "Have you used what has been offered to you?" His words shattered my perception of limitations. Suddenly, those cotton fields weren't barriers—they were blank spaces where I could write my own future. That future took shape in Professor Reddy's Alzheimer's research lab. As a high school junior walking into a world of medical students and postdocs, I quickly learned that science doesn't care about your zip code—only your ideas and work ethic. I taught myself to use EndNote for references, BioRender for figures, and PubMed for literature reviews. But my proudest moment came when our work on magnetically guided nanoparticles for Alzheimer's treatment earned a first-author publication. The kid from cotton country had proven he belonged at the research table. The work became deeply personal when genetic testing revealed I carry the APOE4 allele, giving me a higher risk of developing Alzheimer's. Losing two grandparents to this disease transformed my academic curiosity into an urgent mission. Now as a biomedical engineering student at UT Austin, I'm pushing our nanoparticle research further while pursuing an entrepreneurship minor—because scientific breakthroughs only matter if they can reach patients who need them. My dream is to adapt our delivery system into affordable treatments, especially for rural communities like mine that often lack access to specialized neurological care. As the son of Iranian immigrants, I'm deeply grateful for how far my family has come. While my parents have supported me in every way possible, the practical realities mean I often have to balance research with other responsibilities. Time spent addressing financial needs is time I wish I could devote more fully to advancing our Alzheimer's research. I've had to pass on conference opportunities and delay advanced courses that could take our research to the next level—not because I lacked ability, but because I lacked means. This scholarship would change that equation. With this support, I could dedicate this summer to research instead of survival jobs. I could finally present our findings where they might make the biggest difference. Most importantly, I could focus completely on the work that might one day change millions of lives. It's been 118 years since we discovered AD, and countless victims have been lost, including two of my grandparents. However, through years of further innovative research in college and beyond, I seek to forge new headlines: 'Scientists have found a new easily administered drug capable of reversing the progression of Alzheimer's Disease.' When I imagine this headline, I see more than scientific progress. I see my grandfather's sacrifice validated. I see the rural kid who turned cotton fields into laboratories. And I see proof that with enough determination, even the most stubborn barriers—whether biological or circumstantial—can be overcome. Your investment wouldn't just support a student—it would accelerate treatments for families watching loved ones disappear and honor the immigrant dreams that brought me here. Cotton used to limit my worldview, as I felt I could never achieve the same as those who saw tall skyscrapers and beautiful parks out their windows. I may leave my rural origins for college and beyond, but I’ll always chuckle when I see a stray piece of cotton in the air.