Playing Tetris has been a lifelong favorite hobby of mine. Initially mesmerized by the bright, neon- colored blocks that stood out vividly against the dark background, each piece descending as if it were a burst of energy finding its rightful place in a tranquil abyss. Having once ranked in Shenzhen's top ten for Tetris, I have become an expert at arranging falling shapes to create solid lines and clear the board.

Why was I attached to this archaic game? Strangely, I somehow saw myself in Tetris—because the randomness of each block reminded me of my own life.

In the very beginning, my name was picked at random from dictionaries by my grandfather. I am a girl given a boy's name “YANG XUN.” These two masculine syllables of my name left me with a sense of dissonance and a blurring of identity perceptions. As I grew older, this ambiguity didn’t fade away, but rather translated from the name to something deeper in me – I couldn’t find a constant purpose in life. I often felt empty and without an identity. When I looked in the mirror, I saw myself as a jumbled assortment of Tetris blocks, unsure of where each piece of me belonged. My thoughts would frequently drift, as if I were pondering the destination of the next random Tetris block in the game of my life.

However, much like in Tetris, the piece that fits so perfectly arrived at an unexpected moment.

One day, during a philosophy seminar, I heard something that caught my attention— “Equality and equity.” Equity, I learned, recognizes the diverse needs of individuals and tailors support accordingly, while equality assumes that a one-size-fits-all approach benefits everyone. It was at that moment that the connection between Tetris on the screen and the concept of “equity” clicked. I'm obsessed with Tetris not just because it gives me the feeling of organizing the randomness, but also because of the gratification derived from filling dissimilar gaps, which seems to be something I've always strived for. But it was never enough. I was but chasing the illusions of fulfillment in video games.

What if I can do more? I started to wonder if I could fill the gaps not just on the screen, but in society as well.

Everyone is born with different backgrounds and experiences. To make things equal, we need to give more to less. Aspired by this idea, I spent an entire summer studying women’s conditions in rural areas, founding a team, and finally went to a village in Yunnan with dozens of tampons and sex education leaflets. That summer was sizzling, bridging the social gaps proved far more demanding than aligning Tetris blocks, but when I was surrounded by the smiles of children in rural areas, I saw one of my life's purposes—addressing societal quandaries. Each time I witnessed those seemingly random pieces falling into place, I felt the profound satisfaction of contributing to a more equitable environment.

I gradually became busier and busier as I spent time helping others and needed to plan out my daily schedule and itinerary in detail. I felt like I was maneuvering the cube in Tetris falling into its corresponding dents; the gaps were being filled in, and I was doing what I could to elevate equity. My shape is no longer a blur in my mind, it has become clearer since I found my pursuit.

Everything starts disorganized. Much like the random Tetris blocks that form complete lines, life's random events have shaped me into who I am today.

'Randomness' and “inequality” are still parts of my life and inevitable in society, but just as in Tetris, I believe that with persistence and purpose, we can transform a jumble of disparities into a harmonious whole. If the world is compared to a game of Tetris, then the console is held in my hand tightly.