Like many who enter this field, I’ll admit—I was first drawn to psychology by the allure of mystery. At the start, it was the fascination with serial killers that caught my attention. Why do people do what they do? How can someone like Ted Bundy, outwardly charming and intelligent, lead such a dark double life? What does it say about human nature that cruelty and charisma can exist side by side in one person?

These were the kinds of questions that lingered with me—not out of morbid curiosity, but because they cracked open the deeper puzzle of the human mind. And soon, it wasn’t just about killers or crime. It became about all of us—about the choices we make, the stories we tell ourselves, the patterns that guide our lives.

During my bachelor’s, I studied psychology alongside literature and journalism. I devoured novels, threw myself into every activity the journalism department offered, and enjoyed the constant pull of stories, words, and expression. And yet, even with that, psychology never let go of me. It was the one subject that asked me to look beneath the surface of everything—to question motives, to trace emotions, to understand why we are the way we are.

What began with a fascination for the extreme—serial killers, criminal minds, extraordinary cases—slowly transformed into an enduring commitment to understanding the everyday mind. From trauma to resilience, from suffering to growth, psychology revealed itself as a field not just about “others,” but about us—our relationships, our struggles, and our ways of healing.

And that is why I chose psychology. Not because of the sensational stories that first caught my attention, but because of the quieter, deeper truth: the human mind, in all its contradictions, is endlessly worth exploring.