Soft Edges, Sharp Strength | Part 3: Finding Colour

Breathing Room

Boston was different. Studying communications and hospitality meant entering a field where, as he puts it, "you can't discriminate against anyone." Surrounded by diverse classmates who were comfortable being expressive, he finally had permission to be all of himself.

"It wasn't that I became someone else. I just stopped needing to explain so much."

University gave him what he'd never had before: his own pace. No cram schools, no rigid social hierarchies, just the freedom to explore, mess up, and figure things out.

The Gray Period

London brought graduate school and new, tough challenges. An internship at a finance company pushed him beyond his limits - high expectations, minimal support, constant comparisons. The pressure triggered something he couldn't outrun: a complete mental health crash.

"I didn't feel anything anymore. Everything felt gray. I couldn't trust myself with anything that could hurt me. I wanted to disappear from everything."

The crisis was severe enough that he had to take concrete steps to keep himself safe. But Ken had always been resourceful, and this time would be no different. He began applying for positions in hospitality - a field where his natural empathy and attention to detail were valued. Working with people who appreciated his character became part of his healing.

The question became: what could bring color back to a gray world? And slowly, through that darkness, something began to emerge - not just recovery, but purpose. His hardest experience was becoming fuel for something entirely his own.

Building Something New

The answer came through memory and sensation: color as healing, as grounding, as a way back to presence. Ken is now developing a wellness product that combines these elements - something small and beautiful to hold onto when everything else feels overwhelming.

The concept is clear: emotional grounding made tangible. "It's for people like me," he explains. "People who need something to anchor them when the world feels too much."

It's also about noticing beauty that's already there - a quiet nudge toward presence, a way back to color even on the grayest days.

People still underestimate Ken, assuming he's younger or gentler than his experience suggests. In his original response to my questionnaire, he described himself as "actually ninja" - a response that made me smile, but one that carries deeper meaning.

What began as a challenge to live authentically has evolved into something larger: a way to give back, to create something only he could create, shaped by everything he's lived through and learned along the way. The ninja's path isn't about hiding - it's about moving with intention, carrying your scars as wisdom, and finding ways to bring color back to a world that too often demands you to disappear.