2008 was a potent year for me. I was a gay overweight sixteen-year-old Filipino American struggling with depression and social anxiety. Due to health concerns, I was on independent study, which essentially allowed me to finish the last three years of high school in my own home. While I missed out on proms and dates and all around human contact, I did have one thing that kept me going. Politics. The grandest soap opera ever conceived; filled with more drama, sex scandals, and backstabbing than Days of Our Lives could ever think of.

I got interested just as the political season was kicking in. When Bill Richardson, Joe Biden, and John Edwards were still in the race, and Mike Huckabee actually seemed like a threat for the briefest of moments. The most I knew about Hillary Clinton at the time was her name, her husband, and the fact that yeah, she was going to run for president. Cool. Fast forward a couple of months later and suddenly I was studying county by county outcomes in damn near every primary battle she had with then senator, Barack Obama.

Throughout that long fought race, I continued to verse myself in her policies and her personal biography. I learned with growing amazement at all the things she had accomplished as a law student, as First Lady of Arkansas and the US, and as a mother to Chelsea. I supported her with fervor and passion. Defended her. Felt protective of her. And even after she conceded the race, I promised myself that should she ever make the decision to run again, I would do everything in my power to help her win.

I will say it here and now, I’m not here to insult or belittle Bernie Sanders. I have immense for respect that man and his candidacy, along with his persistent dedication in trying to bring certain issues to the forefront of not just the Democratic primary but the national discussion as well. My peers and friends, almost all of whom are young adults, have become interested in the political process simply because of him, and that’s reason enough for his candidacy to exist. In 2008, all my friends and classmates were for Obama primarily because of the excitement of electing the first African American president. This time, the young folks I know are interested because of Bernie’s policies. Policies about them and their future.

To my fellow Hillary supporters, it may seem easy to view their support for him as idealistic fantasy. That many of them are behind him simply because it’s cool to do so. And I know that right now, when we see her getting attacked from not just the right but the left as well, it’s only instinctual that we defend her. But she’s strong and smart. She can handle this. And I know that if she clinches that nomination, Bernie will get 100% behind her just like she did with dignity for Barack Obama in 2008. And now that I think of it, it was her speech at the DNC that year that forever tied me to her. How those 18 million cracks in that glass ceiling gave hope to not just women, but every group and minority to ever face adversity in our nation.

She instilled hope in that gay overweight sixteen-year-old Filipino kid, giving him the foreign and wondrous idea that hey, maybe if he worked hard enough, he could do anything he set his mind to. It’s a conviction that still drives me today and guided me into pursuing a career in public service.

So yes, I understand people’s reservations about her. I understand their doubts about her judgment, about her ties to corporations and the transcripts of her speeches and “super predator” and the Iraq War vote, etc. People here have done a great job defending her on those subjects, far better than I ever could. I just want to explain my story, and why I believe with unshakeable certainty that Hillary wants to do good in this world. To fight for us. To make a positive difference in our lives. Because she already did that in mine.

Eight years ago, I still remember the tears running down my cheeks when CNN declared Barack Obama the president-elect. I remember my heart thumping against my chest as he walked out on that stage in Grant Park, Chicago, in front a faceless mass of people that represented America in one stark and powerful image. Blacks and whites and browns and men and women and children and teens and seniors and gays and Muslims and hipsters and dreamers unified all under one front, amidst a sea of red, white, and blue. The Democratic Party chose that man to represent them. And the American people responded with a resounding yes. It was a moment that showed me how great this country was. A country of promise and possibilities, of hope and dreams. Where immigrants like my parents could pursue an august destiny filled with opportunities.

But for me, this November will be even more personal. If I am lucky enough to stand there in front of my TV that night, I will be watching with bated breath and two clenched fists (along with millions of others) as my mother and grandmother and mentor and hero wins the presidency. A moment where the final barriers have been shattered, and that glass ceiling will finally come tumbling down. And perhaps that’s what excites me most. Any kid born after this day can live in a world where they could see themselves as president of the United States. And that’s because of the path that Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton paved for them.