As a sophomore in high school, I was diagnosed with leukemia. The first month of my treatment was filled with doctors, nurses, scans, needles, infusions, and heavy doses of chemotherapy. Everything happened so quickly that I had no time to prepare myself emotionally. The fear of what the future held kept me up at night. The fear that I wasn't going to make it, that I'd just be another statistic. That was two years ago. I'm still going through active treatment with monthly clinic visits, and I practice bravery every day. I was brave when I returned to school without no hair and I continue to be brave while wearing leg braces and ignoring what others may think. I'm brave when I prepare myself for my medical visits and procedures. I'm brave when I allow myself to be vulnerable and ask for help, to take a break when I need one, or share my story with others. However, I'm not doing this solely for myself. I find courage to do these things when I think about all the kids that aren't as lucky as I am. Whether it's the ones that are still in the hospital or the ones that didn't win their battle. I'm living for them, because they may not be able to do it themselves. They're my inspiration because my fellow cancer patients have shown me how to face your fear with grace and dignity. My experience has shown me that life's too short to let fear win. We cannot thrive if we're blinded by what-ifs. Our world is what we make of it. You can wake up afraid to step outside or face the day with the courage to take on whatever life throws your way. I strive to be brave everyday, for myself and others.

Art is created when words fail and our thoughts, feelings, and emotions take over. Perhaps that’s why the most notable art is created by those that are most heavily burdened with such things, the stigmatized, the neurodivergent, and minorities. I was recently inspired by a man within a community that's often underrepresented and dramatized. This man is Louis Wain, the schizophrenic artist with a fascination for felines. Mr. Wain's paintings used a mixture of colors and patterns, and all were brilliantly unique and chaotically beautiful. His art created a doorway to his soul, letting others see through his eyes. His art helped positively represent a community that historically has been degraded, feared, and isolated. Like Mr. Wain, art helps me express thoughts and feelings. In my sophomore year of high school, I was diagnosed with cancer. At the time I was already dealing with anxiety and depression. Art helped me cope during my most difficult moments. Whether I was listening to music or sketching a scene, for a moment I felt calm. I tried to give some of this relief to my fellow patients at the hospital. I would draw and paint for them, and help younger ones make crafts. I even had several inspirational pieces hung up in the hospital's child-life center. When my most intense treatment was over, I continued to make art for others. My projects included cards with motivational messages, earrings with codes for sentimental songs, and drawings simply made to make someone smile. I always knew that when I grew up somehow, I was going to use art to help others feel happy, safe, and included. My intended major is digital art with an emphasis on animation. My goal is to work with studios to create stories and characters for those that don't feel seen. I remember trying to find people like myself, and how invisible I felt because my experiences weren't represented enough in the media. The most important thing is that characters are displayed accurately. I need to break the chain of hurtful stereotypes and assumptions to show that no one's confined to one role. I want my characters to be as diverse as the colors and patterns of Mr. Wain's cats. As I continue to learn and grow, my art will grow too. My experiences and the experiences of those around me will continue to influence the art that I create.

As a sophomore in high school, I was diagnosed with leukemia. The first month of my treatment was filled with doctors and nurses, scans, needles, infusions, and heavy doses of chemotherapy. While I struggled with various emotions, isolation was my greatest challenge. I couldn’t see my friends, siblings, or pets. My parents were allowed to stay with me overnight, though only one of them was ever with me at a time, while the other was at home with my sisters. Despite all the challenges of my illness, I managed to make a friend or two among the other patients on my hospital floor. I managed to keep up with school work, achieve academic excellence, and was inducted into the National Honor Society the year after my diagnosis. What matters most to me is that through it all I continue to smile. I deal with several side effects due to my ongoing treatment, some of which are lifelong. I refuse to let these hold me back. I stay optimistic because I want to show people that you can do great things, even when in a hospital bed. The condition of your body does not define you. This ideology pushes me to pursue my passions without letting my illness limit me. My experience has shown me that life is too short to let opportunities pass you by. We cannot thrive if we allow trauma and despair to control us. Our world is what we make of it. You can start your day already defeated, or you can start with hope. In one of the most challenging times of my life, I would never be able to survive without light, sanguinity, and hope.