I love math because it doesn't come easily to me. I'm naturally more of an abstract thinker; I've always enjoyed words more than numbers. Math classes have been a struggle for me throughout my middle school and high school years, as I've found it increasingly difficult to remember rules and formulas. But difficulty does not equate to a lack of value. I used to believe that math itself was the cause of all the sleepless, frustrated hours spent trying to comprehend an overdue worksheet. However, I now view math for what it is: a beautiful, complex field that is so often taught in a way that only adds to the frustration of already-stressed students. Math is challenging for many, and it is a challenge that can seem overwhelming when factoring in all of the pressure of the traditional classroom. But when people are free to discover and learn on their own terms, they will naturally crave such a challenge. I love the enjoyment I get from working through puzzle-like problems. I love the repetitive ease of solving simple problems, and I love the hard-earned satisfaction of solving complex problems. I love learning about complex geometric structures, and I love seeing the incredible visuals that result from those concepts. I love hearing people with incredible passions for math break information down for others to understand. I love all of the opportunities and fascination and joy that can be found in this field. I believe there is value to be found in any area of knowledge. While math still doesn't come easily to me, I have, over the years, gained a strong appreciation for everything that can be gained from the pursuit of the subject.

First and foremost, I am a writer. I believe that the stories we tell can reveal incredible things about who we are and what is around us. What do we create when we are limited only by the confines of our own minds? We take our experiences, our lives, our world, and we shape them into an echo. Something better, something worse, something different. Humans have been telling each other the same stories since the beginning of history, and through these stories, we have been asking each other the same questions. Why are we here? What else is here? How does all of it work, what does all of it mean? We crave so much. We long for connection, for love. We long for answers, for understanding. We long for justice, for logic, for reason. And above all these things, we crave meaning. We want there to be a point to it all. Whether that point is a thousand little kindnesses or one lifesaving sacrifice, whether it is holy words or the unfolding of the infinite ahead of us, we want to have not lived in vain. The key to finding meaning is to decide what we are living for. The key to knowing what we are living for is to know what we are living in. For instance, people who believe that the universe we live in is an uncaring mass of entropy may dedicate their lives to easing the suffering of themselves and others. People who believe that the universe is governed by laws of justice and morality may dedicate their lives to upholding these laws in pursuit of a greater good. Our beliefs about the world around us shape who we are, regardless of what those beliefs may be. We all seek answers to the same questions. Some spend their entire lives in search of these answers, in search of understanding, in search of the meaning we all crave. Now, could a complete understanding of the universe could ever be fully achieved? It is extremely unlikely. However, with every piece of the puzzle we uncover, we are feeding our desire for understanding. With every inch we progress, a thousand more unfold ahead of us, but we are still moving. It is in our nature to desire progression, to engage with our own curiosity. Maybe the important questions will all be answered one day. Maybe they won't. Either way, there is meaning to be found in every piece of the world we uncover. And if a study one day uncovers that there is no meaning to any of it, humans will simply create a new meaning, and their efforts will be recorded for future generations, because that is what we have always done. We should work to increase our understanding of the universe we live in, not because the number of undiscovered secrets are any less than infinite, but because every revelation is a scrap of meaning, a shard of understanding that should be valued for its own sake. There are many ways that work could be carried out. A good place to begin would be increasing efforts to erase the inaccessibility from academia. We need to get rid of the underlying idea that the pursuit of knowledge should be a pure and untouchable thing, because this idea is stifling the voices of people who could change the world. If we are to understand the all-encompassing nature of our reality, we must begin by examining our world from every perspective. The perspective of the child. The perspective of the disabled. The perspective of those with limited opportunities. The perspective of those who are the farthest thing from your mind when you are picturing the future of scientific advancement. In order to work towards a world of greater opportunity, we must work towards a world where no one slips through the cracks. We must work towards the advancement of affordable education, towards the eradication of poverty, towards the elevation of disadvantaged and overlooked voices. A world where everyone is able to contribute to our search for understanding is a world where that search will go farther than it ever has before. As previously stated, I have a passion for writing and storytelling. For many reasons, it is difficult to tell stories without ending up with hope. Therefore, I believe that we can further our understanding of the world around us, and that everything we uncover will bring us closer to what we seek, whatever that may be for each one of us.

My favorite scientific discovery was made by a group of Harvard and Yale researchers. David Rand, Joshua Greene, and Martin Nowak worked together to conduct a study on whether people are "predisposed to selfishness […] or whether they are intuitively cooperative." They discovered that when people are forced to make decisions quickly, they are far more likely to act generously towards others. They also discovered that people tend to act more in their own self-interest when they are given a longer time period to make the decision. This study reveals that, in most cases, our first instinct in an urgent situation is to act with compassion towards others. After I heard about this discovery, it sparked so many more questions in me. If compassion is our first instinct, is there scientific evidence of children acting more compassionately than adults? If we act with more compassion in urgent situations, how has that been utilized throughout history, such as in advertising campaigns? Perhaps the most important question; does this mean that humanity is truly "inherently good"? Granted, that's an extremely subjective question, so it is difficult to truly answer. However, as researchers continue to uncover more information about how our minds work, we are continuously faced with lovely little facts like these. For me, at least, the knowledge that humans will do good instinctually is just another precious shard of evidence that the world isn't quite as menacing a place as we feared.

The song that most inspires me is Four by Sleeping At Last. The instrumentals are absolutely gorgeous, but my favorite part of the song is the lyrics. The lyrics of Four are about learning to see the beauty in the mundane. They speak of the human experience, of coming face to face with the magnitude of the universe, and the fleetingness of our lives. But the song doesn't end there. It goes on to say, through a series of poetic metaphors, that the fragility of life is one of the things that makes it so beautiful. It tells us that what we do with our time on this earth is worthwhile, that we are here to both find the glory in the imperfection surrounding us, and to create our own glory. As I begin to see the the beauty in the world around me, as I begin to see the beauty in the people around me, I become that much closer to realizing that I am part of this world, that I am one of those people. Every song tells a story, and we are all part of this story. We are human, with all the raw, messy chaos that comes with it. And, as Four reminds me, we are magnificent, and glorious, and capable of so, so much. I think that's a message we all need to hear.

My favorite work of art is the statue "Expansion" by Paige Bradley. Essentially, it is the cracked figure of a woman, with every crack glowing with light. I adore this piece, and I feel my breath catch every time I see a photo of it. I know very little about art and sculpting. But I am a poet obsessed with the concepts of light and brokenness. Bradley's message is clear: beauty is found in imperfection. "There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." This quote, often misattributed to Ernest Hemingway, is actually a lyric written by Leonard Cohen. These words go beautifully with this piece. Both attempt to communicate one of the most important messages this world could ever hear. We are all broken in various ways. We are all trying to heal. We are all so, so full of light. Beauty and brokenness do not cancel each other out. Instead, they are tangled and knotted together in the gorgeously heartbreaking work of art that is the human experience. "Expansion" inspires me to take pride in my humanity, and to become the realest version of myself that I possibly can. There is light within us all, aching to burst free. I believe that what we do with this light matters more than anything else in the world.

Philosophers are always asking why we're all here. When people's answers aren't as interesting as they would like, they seldom pay much attention to them. My answer is that I am here to write, to then continue writing until there is nothing left to write about, and to then proceed to write about that nothing. I've been writing since I was five years old. Words and stories are my deepest passion, and I do believe that I have a talent for them. Despite this, I have had few opportunities to share my writing with others. My dream in life is to become a published author. I want the world to hear what I have to say, and I want others like me to see reflections of themselves in the stories they read. Publishing a book is my favorite dream, but going to college is a close second. My current plan is to major in English, and to minor in Creative Writing. A college education would allow me to begin a career, perhaps teaching English on the high school level. A career would provide me with the relative financial stability needed for me to continue working on my book projects and pursuing a publishing deal. As an autistic teenager with severe social anxiety, I strongly advocate for the acceptance, accommodation, and inclusion of every neurodivergent individual. Some of us need extra support to get through college. For some of us, college isn't even the best option. But I strongly believe that every single autistic person who desires to attend college should have the resources made available for them to do so. We are a passionate group of people with unique perspectives that both academia and the workforce would greatly benefit from receiving. I have pride in my identity, I have pride in my community, and I am absolutely committed to reaching my goals, whatever it takes.

Recently, a team of researchers developed an exciting new desalination technology. The performance of this technology, which operates on solar power, is up to 400% more effective than traditional devices. Utilizing this method, a hollow, rotating cylinder is placed inside of a solar distiller. A thin film of water is formed on both the outer and inner surfaces of the cylinder, thus accelerating water evaporation. As the cylinder rotates, with each turn, the film of water is constantly renewed. The water beneath the cylinder is heated by a solar collector. A prototype of this desalination device was tested in 2019. For several months, it was set up on a rooftop in Ekaterinburg, Russia. Of this prototype, research engineer Alharbawi Naseer Tawfik Alwan can be quoted, saying, "The performance improvement factor of the created solar distiller, compared to traditional devices, was at least 280% in the relatively hot months (June, July, and August) and at least 300% and 400% in the cooler months (September and October), at the same time, the cumulative water distillation capacity reached 12.5 l/m2 per day in summer and 3.5 l/m2 per day in winter." Not only will this device increase the volume of production, it will also considerably reduce the cost of desalination. The future plans of these researchers include increasing the solar distiller's performance, while reducing operating costs wherever it is possible to do so. I am thrilled that they seem to be dedicated to ensuring that this technology reaches countries that are in need of it. The device is an especially good fit for regions with high solar energy potential, but a low access to clean drinking water, such as Africa and the Middle East. The UN states that over seven hundred million people in the world lack access to clean drinking water, and that over 40% of the world's population suffers from water shortages. But new technologies, such as this one, provide hope that we can one day overcome this global water crisis.

Most people think they know what it looks like when someone is listening to them. Eye contact is being made; the person is remaining still; the person isn't interrupting or making any sounds. A pretty basic rubric, right? Wrong. Every piece of criteria I just listed holds little to no weight in determining whether someone is actually listening to you. As a neurodivergent person, I can explain exactly why each of these standards are so harmful. It's common knowledge that eye contact is physically uncomfortable for many neurodivergent people. This discomfort can range from a mildly irritating sensation to a more severe pain. A person can listen perfectly well without making eye contact. Remaining still is extremely difficult, or even impossible for many neurodivergent people, particularly those with anxiety, ADHD, autism, or Tourette's syndrome. Movement does not distract from listening; on the contrary, many neurodivergent people move or fidget to focus better on what is being said. It may sound ridiculous when I say that interrupting a speaker doesn't necessarily mean a person isn't listening, but it's true. When a person is finished talking, their tone changes slightly, which is usually enough for a neurotypical person to pick up on. But such subtle tone shifts are often missed by neurodivergent people, especially those with ADHD or autism. Therefore, we will often have a harder time determining whether a person is finished talking, thus leading to accidental interruption. Finally, many neurodivergent people will have vocal stims or tics. These are often difficult or impossible to control. Even when they are suppressible, doing so can often lead to stress or burnout. Making sounds while someone is talking can also assist in focusing for neurodivergent people. The only real requirements for listening are respect and an open mind. It's time we acknowledged that.

Ever since I was five years old, two things have always brought me pure joy. Writing, and my dad's sandwiches. Writing is my passion, and I absolutely live for it. I have a whole other world in my head, and every time I get lost in it, I adore it even more. For me, nothing else matches the feeling of creating, and knowing that it's all mine. When it feels like my life is spiraling out of control, I open my writing file, and start typing. My fictional universes allow me a temporary escape from the real world, just long enough to catch my breath. Not only has writing helped me when I was at some of my lowest points, it also makes every good day that much better. Just thinking about my characters makes me practically shake with excitement. I love writing, and it brings me so much joy every day. My dad's sandwiches are a more occasional treat, but they are worth the wait every single time. I've always had a strong appreciation for good food, and let me tell you, I may have a way with words, but he definitely has a way with good food. He can take a half-empty fridge and a loaf of bread, and somehow manage to create a lunch that tastes like something out of a fairy tale. His sandwiches almost always combine the best of several flavors, and I love them more than any other food in the world. Every time I eat a sandwich, which is often, I find myself mentally comparing it to his creations. I'm certain that these memories of good lunches will stay with me long after I've moved out of his house. These are only two of the many things that bring joy to my life!

At some point during the past three years, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I'm not sure exactly when, because the global disasters known as 2019, 2020, and 2021 all seem to blur together. Around that same time, my family went through a move that was very hard on me. Throw in a global pandemic, and you don't exactly have a recipe for perfect mental health. I felt completely isolated, like I had no one to turn to. I felt trapped in my life, as if I had no control over what happened to me. I was having anxiety attacks daily, and I was becoming increasingly desperate to escape, although I wasn't sure where to. To put it simply, I was falling apart. Things didn't get better overnight. It started with the little things. I got on a new anxiety and depression medication. My family moved out of my grandmother's house, and into our own. I started attending a school whose curriculum was designed to minimize stress. I started thinking about my future, and I started applying to scholarships. I poured myself into my schoolwork, working every day to maintain a 4.0 GPA. I even got cast in a production of Hamlet! It's still an upward climb, and I haven't made it just yet. But I can confidently say that as of today, I have gotten my life back on track, and am well on the way to reaching my goals. I've taken back control over my life and future, and I will forever be so proud of myself for having the strength to do so.

Writing means more to me than almost anything else in the world. I live for the feeling I get when my hands are flying across a keyboard, spilling out words as fast as I can think of them. It's that feeling that's kept me going when I was at my lowest, and it's that feeling that's always in the back of my mind, pushing me forward. How do you even begin to explain the thing that defines you? How do you describe the most perfect part of yourself? That's what writing is to me. Entire worlds are contained within my digital notebook. I think that's the most amazing thing, and I doubt that I'll ever lose that sense of awe. Every time I write, I can shape this fictional reality into anything I want, and I love that. I believe that writing is the closest I can come to fully understanding myself. The words I write are the rawest form of who I am. The first person I write for is myself, and every time I do so, I discover more about just who that person is. But I also write for the world. I write what I needed to hear when I was younger, and I write what I wish everyone around me had heard. I write for the world we have, and I write for the world that I dream of. I write for the person who may one day read it and see a piece of their self in my words. I've always felt things deeply. I write, and my chest aches with joy. I share my words with the world, and I almost can't contain the utter relief that comes with feeling heard. Writing is my passion, and I plan on changing this world with it.

Recently, I was signed up, somewhat unwillingly, for Applied Behavior Analysis therapy. This experience would forever change the way I approached advocacy as an autistic person. Applied Behavior Analysis, or ABA, is very harmful to autistic people, and is frequently advocated against by the autistic community. When my parents signed me up for ABA therapy, I was only somewhat aware of this. I was soon made very aware. As a so-called "high functioning" autistic girl, I can acknowledge that I am generally treated with more agency than some of my fellow autistics. Therefore, the therapy wasn't as bad as it could have been for me, specifically. However, while I was attending these sessions, the treatment of the other teenagers in attendance was appalling to me. I saw boundaries frequently, pushed, tested, and blatantly crossed. I saw a clearly overstimulated friend of mine forced to continue talking with us, despite clearly, politely, and repeatedly asking for a break. I saw a kid, several years younger than me, being manhandled, and forcibly dragged off of a couch, simply because the therapist didn't think he was moving fast enough. I saw harmless behaviors being discouraged and punished, for the sole purpose of getting the kid to act more neurotypical. The general concept of ABA therapy relies entirely on conditioned obedience, forced compliance, and the systematic dehumanization of autistic children and teens. Once I realized this, through both my own experience, and thorough research of ABA practices and the autistic community's opinion of such practices, my mind was clearly made up. I talked to my parents, and asked to quit the therapy. They eventually agreed, and to this day, I am strongly against ABA therapy. In my mind, every person that is educated on the dangers of ABA therapy through me represents one less autistic child or teen who is forced to go through this harmful treatment. I know that it doesn't always work out in such a clear-cut way, but it makes for a motivating mental image. I try to do my part to spread the word anytime the topic comes up, as a way of showing up for the community that has helped me so many times throughout my life. I believe that the autistic community can work together to combat the damage done to our community by ABA therapy, but only if individuals such as myself take an active initiative in doing so.

For the past three years, I've been asking myself the same question. "What do I want?" And for the past three years, the answer has been the same. "Not this." I was recently diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I'm not sure how recently, because time has seemed to blur together as of late, but it was definitely at some point within the past three years. Struggling with mental health has been, well, a struggle. I felt trapped in my own life, like there was nowhere I could go, no one I could turn to. I felt like I had no control over what happened to me. A recent move certainly didn't do anything to help my feelings of isolation and increasing desperation. I still feel somewhat trapped, but I've made some progress. I've realized that I'm still able to determine the outcome of my life. Once I graduate high school, I can go to college, where I'll have more control over my life. I've begun to cling to my future like a lifeboat, because I know it's waiting for me, if I can just hang on. Soon, I won't be trapped anymore. But I need to work for that change. Right now, I'm striving towards getting into one of my choice colleges. I'm maintaining a 4.0 GPA, and attempting to build my student resume. I'm utilizing many websites, and applying to scholarships left and right. I know that if I can scrape together enough money through scholarships, I'll be one step closer to my goal of going to college in the next three to four years. Once I graduate college, I plan on fostering kids and animals. I have a fierce passion for children and teens, and I want the opportunity to be the person that I wanted someone to be for me. I know what it's like to feel completely hopeless, and to feel that no one's there for you. I want to be there for these kids, and I want them to know that I'll always be the person in their corner. When I was a child, I was in love with living. I haven't felt like that in a while, but I'm working on it. I'm trying so hard to become a person that my younger self would be proud of. I still desperately want a change, but I'm not sitting around waiting for my life to miraculously change anymore. I'm taking my future into my own hands. While I'm still breathing, there's still a chance that things can get better for me. And I'm not letting that chance go to waste.

I was in fifth grade, and I was sobbing in the dean's office. The teacher had said that we could work ahead in our math textbooks if we had finished the assignment, so that's what I had been doing. The woman watching our class for a few minutes had started yelling at me for not following instructions. I had tried to defend myself, and had then been scolded for talking back. The teacher had then returned, and I tried to explain myself, only to be harshly reprimanded for supposedly calling the woman a liar. The two had then sent me to the dean's office, where I was yelled at without pause. Naturally, being ten years old, I burst into tears. They didn't stop yelling when I started crying. Eventually, when they saw that they weren't getting anywhere, I was sent back to class, tear streaks still on my face. Why did this particular incident stick with me, even years later? Because I had been a child, young and impressionable, and I had not been treated with kindness or patience. I doubt that day was particularly memorable to the teacher, the substitute, or the dean. But people, especially children, have a tendency to hold on to memories that hurt. An African proverb states, "The axe forgets what the tree remembers." Having patience is extremely important to me, because I never know exactly how my words or actions may affect other people. I find it is especially crucial to be patient with children, as they are still developing their view of the world, and harsh words or deeds can permanently taint that worldview if we are not careful. People, especially authority figures, must make a conscious effort to be patient, in order to build a more loving and safe society for everyone.

I believe that there are three steps that bring me closer to the growth mindset that I aspire towards. Together, they can be referred to as the ORC method for growing as a person. The 'O' in the acronym stands for optimism. I'm not just talking about blind positivity. Instead, strive to maintain an attitude that allows you to see at least one good thing in any situation. Find that good thing, cling to it, and fight through the hard times. No matter what happens, there is always hope, and the first step for growth is finding and acknowledging that hope. The 'R' in the acronym stands for reading. Not just reading, but any way of learning new information. Whether it's books, audiobooks, reputable websites, podcasts, or something completely different, finding a reliable source of information that works for you will help stimulate your mind, and allow you to be more open to new ideas. Try to learn at least one new thing daily. The 'C' in the acronym stands for criticism. Learn to take constructive criticism. Make an active decision to hear out, accept, and learn from every bit of feedback given to you. Of course, this doesn't mean to simply take destructive criticism to heart, but learn to tell the difference. Every day, make the choice to dismiss destructive criticism, absorb constructive criticism, and adjust yourself and your behavior accordingly. By recognizing your flaws and working to change them, anyone can become a better person. These are not the only ways to keep a growth mindset. But they are three steps that will definitely bring anyone closer to that goal. I aim to grow as a person each and every day, and I hope anyone else desiring personal growth finds this method to be helpful!

I believe that self-care is anything that either brings you joy, or eases your suffering. Writing does both for me. I've been writing since I was five, but I've only recently come to consider it a form of self-care. As long as I can remember, whenever I think about expressing myself, the answer has always been writing. Poetry, fiction, essays, the genre never mattered. I just loved the feeling of creating beautiful things out of words. Writing is my passion, and I definitely feel that it's my calling as well. In 2020, it felt like my life was completely falling apart. In addition to the obvious disasters taking place, my family went through a move that was extremely difficult for me. My depression and anxiety both worsened. I felt like my future was being snatched away from me, like I had no control over anything. So, I turned to writing. I wrote almost constantly, desperate to get my emotions out of me and onto a computer screen or paper. Writing was the one thing in my life that I had complete control over, because the words were all mine. And it helped so much. Since I started focusing on writing something every day, my mental health has drastically improved. I write poetry, and my feelings are less tangled. I write fiction, and I experience so much love for these imaginary characters and worlds. I write scholarship essays, and I have hope for my future again. For me, writing is the most helpful form of self-care, and it brings me joy every day. Everyone has something that works for them, and I hope everyone finds the thing that makes their life a little better. I know I've found mine, and I'm so grateful that I have.

It is a Wednesday night, and I am sobbing over her. It is a Monday morning, and I can't help but see him in the eyes of everyone I meet. It is a Saturday afternoon, and I am alone. It is a Friday afternoon, and I am not. All of these jumbled moments fade in and out of each other like a slideshow, portraying everyone who has ever touched my heart. I'm going to say it up front: I have never had any interest in romance. When it comes to love, all of my affections have always been fully platonic. Friendship has always meant the world to me, but it is a difficult concept to truly define. I believe that friendship is the most beautiful thing on this earth. Yes, even above romance. Maybe I'm biased, but there is something so pure about choosing another to love, not out of any compulsion due to familial duty, or the pull of romantic attraction, but simply out of the mutual enjoyment of each other's company. This is the basic definition of friendship. Of course, in many cases, it goes far deeper than this. Friendship is the nights I spent at summer camp when I was thirteen, when I silently vowed to die for the girl walking beside me if the need should ever arise. Friendship is the nights I spent staying at my grandmother's house when I was fourteen, when I broke down in tears over the years that may pass before I saw her again in person. Friendship is the nights I spent hunched over my desk when I was fifteen, carefully handwriting a response to the letter she sent me. Friendship is hope and grief clasped together like the hands of two kids who never want to let go.

The question: “How are you?” The honest answer: “It’s complicated.” I probably developed social anxiety around seventh grade, but it got much worse in the past two years. I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression this year. The diagnosis felt freeing, in a way. It felt like a confirmation that I wasn’t faking, and that I really did need help. Often, I feel like I’ve lost the person I actually am. It feels like the little girl who wasn’t afraid of anything, whose smile was more than a defense against awkward silences, who loved living with all of her being, is gone forever. But she’s not. She just got older, and her life got harder. I’m still her, just with an anxiety disorder that’s hard to deal with. My struggles don’t define me in my entirety, but things will never get better if I don’t acknowledge their existence. It feels like there’s always been an unspoken rule. Don’t talk about the bad, the wrong, the hopeless. We’re told to keep quiet, because nobody wants to hear us complain. But I think it’s time to break that rule. We should be having these conversations with each other, and we should be helping each other to know that we aren’t alone. People, especially children, shouldn’t be made to think that they’re wrong for feeling despair. We can’t fix anything if we refuse to acknowledge the problem. My goal when I’m at my best, is to be the person I need when I’m at my worst. I want to be kind, and honest, and accepting. I understand what it’s like to feel that things are never going to get better. I understand what it’s like to feel hopeless, and I understand what it’s like to be scared of letting people in. I don’t understand everything, and I never will. But there are some things that I do understand, and I can use that understanding for good. My dream is to teach English, write novels, and foster kids. I want to be in a position to let children and teens know that there’s someone on their side. I want to be the person who understands that they’re struggling, even if I don’t fully understand what they’re going through, and I want to be the person that makes them feel like somebody cares about them. Because, if I’ve learned anything from my life, it’s that words do matter. And they can change the world. I’ve always felt like I have to constantly fight for something in order to make my time here worthwhile, whether it’s the future, the world, or the people in it. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s the fighters who end up changing the world, after all. But I’ve learned that it’s okay to fight for the softer parts of yourself as well. It’s okay to fight for your own happiness, your own peace, and your own mental well-being. I don’t know how much time I have on this earth. No one does. Often, the thought of dying terrifies me, and I feel like I haven’t done enough with my life. But, for now, I’m here. I’m alive, and breathing, and I have a chance to make a difference in the lives of myself and others. It may sound cliché, but as long as that’s true, I’ll continue fighting. Honestly, it’s been really hard, and it still is. The past several years have been rough on everyone. Some days, I’m convinced that the world is burning to the ground. Maybe it is. But I can still try to find purpose in the ashes. I can be kind. I can do my best to help people going through the same things I am, and the people who are going through things that I’ll never understand. I can ignore the voice in my head that tells me that I’ll never matter to the world, no matter how hard it is to drown out. “How are you?” There’s no easy answer. Life was never made to be easy. But I can keep trying, and I can live.

I want to see the world become a safe and kind place for children to grow up in. I believe that demonstrating love and support to kids is one of the most important tasks we have as a society. As individuals, and as a community, we must lead the way to a more compassionate world. Change is possible, but only if the proper communication is utilized to change the harmful mindsets currently in place. As a child, I struggled with school. I have autism and ADHD, which caused me great difficulty functioning within the school system. During the early years of elementary school, I was blessed with a wonderful and understanding teacher, who did her best to accommodate the needs of her students. She was my teacher for three grades, and played a huge role in making my early school experience more comfortable. In fifth grade, I wasn’t so lucky. I attended a private school with strict discipline policies. Little to no accommodations were made for children with learning disabilities, and the workload was heavy. The school provided no support or guidance to assist me. My mother briefly put me on medication in an attempt to make it easier for me, but the side effects caused me severe problems. The school, however, refused to let me attend unless I was on the medication. While I was in attendance, I felt almost constantly humiliated, and would often come home in tears. I often felt stupid, or less than my peers. No child should be made to feel that way. Adults, particularly those who play significant roles in the lives of children, must be educated on genuinely helpful ways to guide the neurodivergent children in their care. Even more so, we must live by a simple principle - be kind to children. It seems so simple, and yet we have a long way to go before this rule is applied to every child. My negative experiences with the education system have greatly influenced my aspirations for the future. I hope to one day become a teacher and a foster parent. My dream is to work with kids, and make a lasting, positive impact on the life of at least one young person. I want to be the person I needed when I was younger. Currently, I am volunteering with kids at every opportunity I can find. I recently had the chance to volunteer with a church that I occasionally attend. The church was putting on a vacation bible school for the elementary school children, and I was able to work with a group of kids as a student leader. It was an amazing experience, and I look forward to doing it again with another church. I have a passion for kids, and I believe that everyone deserves to experience the world with love and respect. Children depend upon us for care and protection, and I will fiercely defend their right to that care and protection until the day I die. I want to see a world of reckless compassion, and I will fight for that bright future for as long as it takes.

“A world where all human beings are taken care of shouldn't be called a 'revolutionary' way of life & yet it is. Burn.” - Amanda Lovelace (The Princess Saves Herself in This One) The above quote is from Amanda Lovelace’s book, The Princess Saves Herself in This One, and is only one of the many quotes from her book that touched me deeply. Lovelace’s message of fierce compassion is a refreshing viewpoint that is essential in a society which prioritizes monetary gain over simple kindness. Her words are a rallying cry to those overlooked by this toxic system, a call to so-called ‘revolutionary’ love for ourselves and others. I long for a world in which Lovelace’s words are taken to heart by all, a world which holds life in the highest regard, a world which loves recklessly. If we must set fire to the ideals which are currently held in esteem in order to achieve such a world, then so be it. If we must fight for those around us, if we must rebel against a broken system, so be it. To bring about change, we must all do what we can, and the benefits shall be reaped by our descendants. Let them live in a kinder, softer world than the one we live in now. This quote is my daily reminder to care for others, because any goal worth pursuing can be reached with empathy and compassion. It reminds me that I deserve happiness, and the person across the room deserves happiness, and the person across the street, across the country, across the world. A better future is possible. But the only way to achieve it is through rebellious, ‘revolutionary’ love.

The question: “How are you?” The honest answer: “It’s complicated.” I probably developed social anxiety around seventh grade, but it got much worse in the past two years. I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression this year. The diagnosis felt freeing, in a way. It felt like a confirmation that I wasn’t faking, and that I really did need help. Often, I feel like I’ve lost the person I actually am. It feels like the little girl who wasn’t afraid of anything, whose smile was more than a defense against awkward silences, who loved living with all of her being, is gone forever. But she’s not. She just got older, and her life got harder. I’m still her, just with an anxiety disorder that’s hard to deal with. My struggles don’t define me in my entirety, but things will never get better if I don’t acknowledge their existence. It feels like there’s always been an unspoken rule. Don’t talk about the bad, the wrong, the hopeless. We’re told to keep quiet, because nobody wants to hear us complain. But I think it’s time to break that rule. We should be having these conversations with each other, and we should be helping each other to know that we aren’t alone. People, especially children, shouldn’t be made to think that they’re wrong for feeling despair. We can’t fix anything if we refuse to acknowledge the problem. My goal when I’m at my best, is to be the person I need when I’m at my worst. I want to be kind, and honest, and accepting. I understand what it’s like to feel that things are never going to get better. I understand what it’s like to feel hopeless, and I understand what it’s like to be scared of letting people in. I don’t understand everything, and I never will. But there are some things that I do understand, and I can use that understanding for good. My dream is to teach English, write novels, and foster kids. I want to be in a position to let children and teens know that there’s someone on their side. I want to be the person who understands that they’re struggling, even if I don’t fully understand what they’re going through, and I want to be the person that makes them feel like somebody cares about them. Because, if I’ve learned anything from my life, it’s that words do matter. And they can change the world. I’ve always felt like I have to constantly fight for something in order to make my time here worthwhile, whether it’s the future, the world, or the people in it. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s the fighters who end up changing the world, after all. But I’ve learned that it’s okay to fight for the softer parts of yourself as well. It’s okay to fight for your own happiness, your own peace, and your own mental well-being. I don’t know how much time I have on this earth. No one does. Often, the thought of dying terrifies me, and I feel like I haven’t done enough with my life. But, for now, I’m here. I’m alive, and breathing, and I have a chance to make a difference in the lives of myself and others. It may sound cliché, but as long as that’s true, I’ll continue fighting. Honestly, it’s been really hard, and it still is. The past several years have been rough on everyone. Some days, I’m convinced that the world is burning to the ground. Maybe it is. But I can still try to find purpose in the ashes. I can be kind. I can do my best to help people going through the same things I am, and the people who are going through things that I’ll never understand. I can ignore the voice in my head that tells me that I’ll never matter to the world, no matter how hard it is to drown out. “How are you?” There’s no easy answer. Life was never made to be easy. But I can keep trying, and I can live.