Something unique about me is the way I have grown into my identity as a bisexual woman and learned to protect that identity even when others overlook it or misunderstand it. Being bisexual can feel like you are constantly having to explain yourself. When you date a man, people call you straight. When you date a woman, people call you a lesbian. It feels like the world tries to fit you into one box or the other, and they forget that bisexuality exists. It is frustrating watching people erase something that is a real and personal part of me. Sometimes I want to say, I am not confused, I am not going through a phase, and I am not half anything. I am bisexual every single day, no matter who I am with or not with. It gets tiring, emotionally, to feel like you have to justify who you are to people who think they already understand you. The truth is, bisexuality has always been part of the LGBTQ community, even in the early days of activism and protest. Bisexual people showed up, marched, fought, and stood on the front lines for rights and visibility. Yet today, our identity still gets pushed aside, minimized, or treated like it is less "real" than others. That erasure used to make me feel small. Now, it makes me want to stand even taller. Being bisexual has taught me strength in ways I never expected. It taught me how to exist even when others say you do not. It taught me how to hold my truth even when people try to rewrite it. It taught me how to take up space in rooms that were not designed to welcome every version of who I am. I am proud of that. I am also a first-generation college student and a woman of color, which means I am learning how to carve a place for myself in higher education with no blueprint from home. There are moments where it feels scary or overwhelming, but I keep moving forward because I am building a life that should exist, even if I once struggled to imagine it. I chose to study marketing and event management because my heart is in creating spaces where people feel like they belong. I want to build environments where LGBTQ students, especially bisexual young people, feel seen and genuinely included. I want to help create a world where no one has to question if they fit or if their identity is valid. I know what it feels like to be overlooked. I know what it feels like to wish someone would just understand. That is why I want to be the person who sees others clearly. I believe I deserve this scholarship because I am not only working on my education. I am working on changing the space around me. I want to represent bisexual women who are often erased. I want to remind younger students who feel confused or lost that they are not alone, and they do not have to shrink themselves to be accepted. I am proud of who I am becoming. I am proud of my identity. And I am working toward a future where bisexual students never feel invisible, because they will see themselves reflected in the world I help build.

When I think about my journey with mental health, it does not start with one big dramatic moment. It starts quietly, in sixth grade, when people asked what I wanted to be when I grew up and I could not answer. Other kids talked about careers, dreams, and college plans. I sat there with a blank mind, not because I did not care about my future, but because I could not imagine one. I did not see myself growing up. I did not picture graduation or college. I felt like I was just trying to get through each day. Looking back, I can still feel the weight that younger me carried. I did not know how to explain what was happening inside me. I did not have the words for anxiety or depression. I only knew that sometimes breathing felt heavy, and the future felt foggy and far away. I hid how I felt because I did not want anyone to worry about me. I wanted to be the strong one. I wanted to seem normal. So I kept going and pretended I was fine, while inside I felt lost. Growing out of that darkness did not happen overnight. It came in small steps over time. I learned how to talk about my feelings. I learned that asking for help does not make you weak. I learned that having hard days does not erase your progress. I slowly learned how to take care of myself, how to calm my mind, and how to let myself believe that I belonged in this world and that I had a future worth fighting for. There were moments in high school where those old feelings came back and tried to pull me backward. There were days where I felt overwhelmed and afraid that I was falling behind. But each time, I chose to stand back up. Each time, I reminded myself that I had made it through worse and that I deserved to keep going. Healing has been a long road, with ups and downs, and I am proud of myself for staying on it. Today, I am a college student studying marketing and event management. When I think about who I was then and who I am now, it still feels emotional. I went from a girl who struggled to picture the future to a young woman working hard to build one. I want to create events that bring people together. I want to make others feel seen and celebrated, because I know what it feels like to feel small and invisible. To protect my mental health, I stay honest with myself. I pay attention to my emotions. I give myself permission to rest. I talk to the people I trust when things feel heavy instead of trying to carry everything alone. I stay grounded with routines, reflection, and reminders that I am allowed to take life one day at a time. Recovery for me means continuing to grow, staying aware of my emotional health, and treating myself with kindness. I think about Ella’s story and her strength, and it inspires me. She fought through darkness and still loved fiercely, still chased her dreams, and still believed in becoming better. I want to live with that kind of courage. I want to keep choosing hope, even when life becomes hard. I want to show younger me that she made it. That she was always stronger than she felt. I am still growing, still learning, and still choosing myself every day. I am proud to say that I am living a future I once could not imagine. And I am not done yet. I will keep moving forward. I will keep healing. And I will honor every step that brought me here.

When I think about adversity, I do not think about one big moment that changed everything. I think about the quiet battles, the days where getting up felt heavy, the nights where the future felt blurry, and the times I had to hold myself together even when I was scared or exhausted. I think about younger me, who genuinely could not imagine growing up or having a future. Back then, I did not have a dream career because I did not believe I would be around long enough to have one. That is the version of me who learned what resilience really is. There is no manual for climbing out of that mindset. It happens slowly, in tiny steps. Choosing to keep going. Choosing to show up. Choosing to picture a future, even if it feels unfamiliar at first. Over time I learned how to take care of myself emotionally, how to challenge thoughts that tried to limit me, and how to celebrate small progress. I learned that strength is not loud. Sometimes strength is simply deciding to try again tomorrow. College has been another lesson in resilience. Being a first-generation student and a woman of color in business and marketing does not always feel easy. Sometimes I feel out of place, and sometimes the pressure piles up. There are days when I feel overwhelmed by school, finances, responsibilities, and life moving so fast. But every time things get heavy, I remind myself who I am becoming and why I am here. I remind myself that the version of me who once could not imagine the future is now building one. That alone is victory. When things feel mentally tough, I ground myself with my routines. I take breaks when I need them instead of burning out. I reach out to the people I trust. I let myself rest without labeling it as weakness. I practice speaking kindly to myself, even when my brain tries to go back to old patterns. And then I get up again, do the work, and keep moving toward my goals. My dream is to build an event-planning business rooted in joy, community, and belonging. I want to create spaces where people feel seen, valued, and celebrated, because I know what it feels like to move through life feeling invisible or unsure of your place. Every class I take and every stressful day I push through is a building block toward that future. Adversity has not made me fearless, but it has made me brave. There is a difference. Fear still shows up sometimes, but so do I. And that is enough. I did not choose my hardest moments, but I choose my future. I choose to keep going, even on the days that require more strength than others. I choose to grow into the woman the younger me needed. I am here, I am moving forward, and I am determined to build a life I once could not imagine. That is my bravery.

I grew up not seeing many examples of people who looked like me in professional business spaces, so choosing marketing and event management was not just about picking a major. It was choosing a future that I did not always believe was meant for someone like me. I am a black student working toward a career where people like me are still not widely represented, and I am choosing to step into that world anyway. Not just for myself, but so someone after me sees a face like theirs and feels like they belong too. I chose marketing and event planning because I love building moments that bring people together and make them feel seen, valued, and celebrated. Growing up, there were times when I did not always feel like I belonged anywhere. I want to create spaces where people do. I want to build a business that champions community and joy and opens doors for others. Event planning may sound like schedules, checklists, and decoration boards to some people, but to me, it is creating memories, honoring milestones, and making people feel important. Marketing is storytelling and connection. It is giving voices and experiences a platform. I want to do both. There are not many black professionals leading in marketing roles. Industry data shows that only a small percentage of people in the marketing field are black people (7.2%), and even fewer are black women. When I walk into classrooms or networking rooms, I feel that absence. It can be intimidating to feel like the “only,” or one of the few, but I have learned to turn that feeling into fuel. My presence in this field matters. My education matters. Every step I take changes the picture a little bit more for the next student of color who wants to follow a similar path. My dream is to open my own event planning business, hire diverse talent, and create opportunities for BIPOC students who are interested in business and creativity but do not always see themselves represented. I want to offer internships and mentorship, especially for first-generation and minority students who are trying to find their way just like I did. I want to be the person that younger me needed to see. Being a underrepresented student in business means learning to trust myself even when I feel outnumbered. It means carrying pressure, but also pride, because I am changing the story for my family and my community. It means showing up in spaces that were not built with me in mind and deciding that I deserve to be there anyway. I am not just getting a degree. I am building a life that reminds others that our dreams are not too big, and we do not have to shrink to fit into spaces — we can expand them. This scholarship would help me continue my education without the constant weight of financial worry. It would let me focus more on learning, growing, and preparing to step into this field with confidence. It would support a student who is not just chasing a career, but trying to widen the path for others who will come after. I want to be proof that we belong in business. I want to leave the door open behind me. And I am working every day to become someone future students can look at and say, “She did it. So can I.”

Growing up as a person of color, I learned early that the world sees identity before it sees dreams. It was not something anyone sat me down and explained. It showed up in quiet ways and heavy ways. It showed up in rooms where I felt out of place, in moments where I questioned whether I belonged, and in the way I sometimes felt like I had to work twice as hard just to feel equal. Being part of an underrepresented minority means moving through the world aware of how you are seen, and also determined to show who you are beyond stereotypes and assumptions. There are parts of my childhood where I felt invisible, and other times where I felt too visible. I did not always feel like I had someone who understood how my identity shaped the way I saw myself and my future. There were moments where I felt small, not because I lacked ability or passion, but because the world did not expect much from someone like me. That feeling is heavy when you are young and still learning who you are. But my identity also built a fire in me. It taught me how to stand up for myself even when my voice shook. It made me want to work harder, not to prove others wrong, but to prove to myself that I belong in the spaces I step into. It shaped the way I view resilience. When you grow up seeing that the world is not always fair, you learn to become your own advocate. You learn to push forward even when the path is not clear and even when you do not see someone who looks like you in the position you want to be in someday. You learn to dream anyway. Being both BIPOC and a first-generation student comes with layers. It means walking into college knowing no one at home can tell you how to navigate it. It means facing financial stress, academic pressure, and the emotional weight of knowing that success is not just personal, but generational. When I walk across my campus, I carry my family with me. I carry the work they put in and the sacrifices that got me here. My education is not just about me. It is about changing the story for everyone who will come after me. In the future, my identity will continue to shape the way I move through the world. I want to build a career in marketing and event planning not just to create a life for myself, but to create safe, joyful spaces for others who are overlooked. My identity helps me see people deeply. It helps me understand what it means to want to feel included, respected, and celebrated. My dream is not only to succeed, but to pull others forward with me, to be someone younger students can look at and think, “If she made it, maybe I can too.” Being an underrepresented minority has never been a limitation for me. It has been a reminder of what strength looks like. It has made me fierce, compassionate, and determined. It taught me to build a future not in spite of who I am, but because of who I am.

Being a first-generation college student feels like walking through a door you had to build yourself. It means stepping into a world that no one in my family has stepped into before, and trying to figure it out as I go. Sometimes it feels exciting, like I am breaking cycles and creating a new path. Other times it feels heavy, like there is a quiet pressure to succeed not just for me, but for everyone who never had the chance. When I was younger, I could not picture a future for myself. In sixth grade, when kids talked about what they wanted to be one day, I stayed quiet. It was not that I did not want dreams. I just could not imagine myself growing up. I did not see college or graduation or adulthood. I only saw survival. I felt like the world was something that happened around me, not something I belonged to. Looking back, it breaks my heart for that younger version of me, because she deserved to imagine a future. She just did not know how. Somewhere along the way, I began to believe that my life could stretch further than I once thought. It happened slowly. Tiny moments of hope that felt unfamiliar but warm. I realized that I did not want my story to be about barely getting through life. I wanted to build something. I wanted joy, and purpose, and a future I could see clearly. I wanted to become someone my younger self would look at and think, “We made it.” College became part of that vision. And being first-gen means learning everything from scratch. It means filling out forms without help, searching up terms you do not understand, and pretending you are not scared. It means carrying the dreams of your family and your own dreams at the same time, hoping you do not drop either one. It means fighting for opportunities because you know how hard it was to even stand at the starting line. There are days where I feel confident and strong. And there are days where I feel like I am just trying to keep my head above water. But every time I keep going, every time I choose my future over my fear, I feel myself growing. I picked a degree in event management because I love bringing people together and creating moments of connection and joy. I want to build a business that helps others celebrate their lives and feel seen and valued. Maybe that is my way of giving people something I once needed: a reminder that everyone deserves moments that feel meaningful and real. This scholarship would give me space to breathe. It would ease stress and allow me to focus more on school and less on how I am going to afford it. Being first-gen means I am not just walking toward a future. I am rewriting what a future looks like for my family. And I am not done yet.

When I first came across Marcus Aurelius’s writing, this line stood out to me more than almost anything else: “You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” On the surface it looks simple, almost like motivational advice. But when I sit with it, I understand that he is not telling us to ignore what happens in the world or pretend painful experiences do not exist. He is telling us that the world can pull us in many directions and life can feel unpredictable, but the only part of life we truly own is our inner response. The mind is both our refuge and our battlefield. The work of becoming stronger happens inside, and strength grows when we learn to rule our own thoughts instead of being ruled by everything around us. This meaning becomes clearer when I look at who Marcus Aurelius was and the weight he carried. He was an emperor who lived with constant responsibility, pressure, fear, loss, and uncertainty. He could not control wars, plagues, betrayals, or the unpredictability of life. With so many external forces shaping his world, his philosophy came from necessity: he needed a way to remain steady in a life full of storms. So his guidance is not abstract. It is not about pretending emotions do not exist. It is a practice of grounding, choosing our thoughts carefully, and refusing to surrender our inner peace to circumstances we did not choose. This idea has meaning to me because I spent a long part of my life feeling like my mind was something I could not command. When I was in sixth grade, I did not dream about the future. It was not because I lacked imagination. It was because picturing a future felt impossible. Teachers would ask us what we wanted to be one day, and students around me would answer with confidence. I remember watching them talk about their future careers and high school goals. I remember quiet moments sitting at my desk with my mind completely blank when the thought of my future came up. I did not believe I would survive long enough to become anything at all. At that age, I did not fully understand why I felt that way. I only knew that my mind did not belong to me. It belonged to fear. It belonged to dread I could not name. It belonged to the sense that life was fragile and unpredictable. Children are supposed to feel hopeful about growing up. They are supposed to imagine themselves older, flourishing, stepping into a larger world. But my world felt small, and my thoughts felt heavy. I could not imagine adulthood because I did not believe I was meant to reach it. In that stage of my life, I lived in reaction rather than choice. I reacted to fear, to worry, to uncertainty inside me and around me. I did not know I had any power over how I experienced my inner world. I just accepted that my thoughts dictated my future, and those thoughts told me I did not have one. When I reflect on Marcus Aurelius’s words now, I see that strength is not about pushing away difficult emotions or ignoring the pain that shaped me. He is not saying that outside events do not matter. What he is saying is that we do not have to surrender our inner life to them. The mind can learn to stand on its own, not untouched by the world, but unchained by it. I did not understand that as a child. I believed the outside world controlled everything about my future, even whether I had one. Growing into myself meant learning that I had ownership I never knew existed. It started quietly. Moments when I challenged a negative thought instead of believing it. Moments where I pictured myself in high school and let myself feel curious instead of afraid. Moments when I allowed the idea of a future to exist at all. For a long time, these were small victories, almost invisible. But small victories are still victories. That is what the Stoics teach: strength is not loud. It is built in private decision after private decision, thought after thought, until one day you realize you are standing somewhere your younger self never believed you could reach. By the time I stepped into high school, I had begun reclaiming my mind. Fear still visited, but it no longer dictated my destiny. I could picture high school graduation, something that once felt impossible. I slowly began to believe I deserved to exist in the future. I learned that mental resilience is a skill, not something you are born with. It must be practiced. Stoicism does not demand emotional silence; it asks us to direct our inner world with intention, instead of letting it be shaped by fear or chaos. As I worked toward college, I faced obstacles that had nothing to do with intelligence or effort. They were obstacles of uncertainty, financial stress, being the first in my family to navigate higher education, and learning how to advocate for myself in systems that were new to me. There were late nights full of doubt and moments when fear whispered familiar lines. But when those thoughts came, I now had something I did not have in sixth grade: belief that I could guide my mind. I reminded myself that fear does not define fate. I reminded myself that strength is not the absence of doubt, but the decision to move anyway. College has given me even more proof of the Stoic idea. Life does not soften just because you grow older. New pressures arrive. Expectations grow. But now I understand that the heart of strength is not controlling outcomes. It is choosing your reaction. I cannot control every grade, every opportunity, or the timing of life. But I can control whether I stay disciplined. I can control how I speak to myself. I can control my commitment to my future and my willingness to grow. Studying marketing and event management is not just a career path. It is an act of choosing a future that once felt out of reach. It is proof that I can shape my life, not by forcing the world to cooperate, but by shaping my own mind and effort. Event planning requires adaptability, calm in chaos, and the ability to make decisions with a steady head. I see Stoicism in that too. Life does not stop moving. Crowds, emotions, timelines, changes, and pressure all swirl around. The strength is inside the person who stays grounded and guides the moment instead of reacting blindly to it. Today, I carry that sixth-grade version of me gently. I do not resent her for believing she would not make it to the future. She simply did not know she had power over her inner world. She did not yet learn the lesson Aurelius describes. But I know it now. And every choice I make, every class I take, every moment I lead myself through stress or doubt proves that the mind can be reclaimed, shaped, and strengthened. Marcus Aurelius was right. Strength is not found by controlling life. It is found by mastering the only thing we will ever fully own: our thoughts, our reactions, our inner voice. I did not grow up imagining a future, but I live now imagining many. I live believing I belong in the world that once felt unreachable. And I live committed to guiding my mind through whatever challenges come next, not by denying emotion, but by anchoring myself in the truth that my inner life belongs to me. That is the meaning I take from this text. Stoicism is not coldness. It is not apathy. It is choosing your inner stance. It is the quiet strength of someone who survived their own thoughts long enough to reshape them. The outside world did not hand me a future. I built one by learning that I am not powerless inside my own mind. That lesson is the strength that carries me forward, further than that sixth grade student could ever imagine.

Growing up, college always felt like something out of reach. My parents did not graduate from college, and we did not always have the financial stability or guidance that a lot of other students have. I remember hearing people talk about college like it was simply the next step in life, but for me, it felt like a dream that I had to fight for on my own. I did not have anyone to show me the process or tell me how to make it happen. I learned how to apply, how to search for scholarships, and how to navigate financial aid by myself. Even though it was overwhelming, I kept going because education means opportunity. It means a future where I can create stability for myself and help others do the same. I am now a student at Washington State University, majoring in marketing and minoring in event management. I am working hard to build a path that no one in my family has walked before, and I take a lot of pride in that. I chose this degree because I am passionate about planning, bringing people together, and creating meaningful experiences. My dream is to own my own event planning business that focuses on community events, company events, and weddings. I want to help people celebrate life’s important moments, especially families and individuals who might not have a large budget or feel overlooked in traditional event spaces. I believe everyone deserves joy and connection, no matter their financial situation. Being a first generation college student means I have had to grow through challenges that many people do not see. There have been moments where I have worried about how to pay for tuition and books and still afford basic living costs. There have been times when I felt pressure to figure things out on my own and stay strong even when I felt lost. But every challenge has also pushed me to become more resilient, more determined, and more confident in my own strength. I am not just working toward a degree. I am working toward breaking generational barriers and creating a life filled with purpose and stability. This scholarship would mean more than just financial support. It would allow me to focus more on my studies and my goals without worrying as much about finances holding me back. It would help me continue building my event planning portfolio, stay involved in leadership roles on campus, and stay on track with my academic journey. It would also lighten the burden on my family and give me the freedom to take advantage of opportunities that help me grow. My goal is not only to succeed for myself, but also to become someone who gives back. I want to mentor other first generation students one day and create programs or scholarships of my own to support students like me. I want to show younger students in my family and community that college is possible, even when it feels far away. I am determined to keep going, keep learning, and build a future that reflects where I came from and where I am going. I am grateful for this opportunity, and I am committed to continuing to work hard and use my education to create a positive impact in my community and beyond.

My dad served in the Army before I was born, and he left service when I came into the world. Even though I did not grow up in a typical military household, his service shaped him, and his example shaped me. He is a disabled veteran now, and even though he does not talk about what he went through, I have always seen the strength and patience he carries. He is quiet, humble, and incredibly selfless. He always puts others before himself and never complains, even when things are difficult. Watching him handle life with that kind of heart and strength is what taught me what leadership really looks like. It is everyday choices, how you treat people, and how you keep going even when it is hard. As the Marketing Officer for the Washington State University Archery Club, I try to lead the same way. I communicate with our members, manage our social platforms, plan fundraising, and help build our team culture. I want people to feel welcome and supported, because college can be overwhelming and everyone deserves a place where they belong. When we were trying to grow the club and secure resources, I worked hard to promote our team, connect with campus offices, and build momentum. We went from a small student group to a real team that competes, travels, fundraises, and improves together. I believe in leading by doing the work and being there for people. If we have equipment to carry, long practices, or events to prepare for, I am there. If someone needs support or encouragement, I am there too. I want people to feel valued and seen. That is how I define leadership. Being a first generation college student has taught me resilience. I did not grow up with a guide to college life or financial planning for school. I had to learn how to handle everything through experience. There were times when paying for school and balancing responsibilities felt stressful, but quitting has never been an option for me. I want a different future for myself, and I want to make my family proud. Every challenge has taught me something about perseverance, resourcefulness, and believing in myself even when things feel heavy. Selflessness is a value I carry in small ways. I take care of my friends, I support my teammates, and I try to be someone people can depend on. I know what it feels like to struggle and still push through, so I always try to create a space where others feel supported and welcome. Sometimes that means giving my time or energy even when I am tired, but I care about the people around me and I truly believe kindness matters. My goal is to start an event planning business that focuses on community events, company events, and weddings, but also on families and individuals who may not have access to big budgets. I want to make people feel celebrated and seen. I know how meaningful milestones can be, especially when you work hard for them, and I want to help create memories for others. My degree in marketing and event management is my path toward building that future. To me, leadership means serving others, building people up, and having the courage to keep going when challenges come. It means acting with integrity, staying grounded, and never losing sight of the people you are working for. My dad taught me those values without ever needing to say them. I hope to honor that by living them in my work, my education, and the way I treat others every day.

My name is Adri, and mental illness has never been a stranger to me. It has walked beside me for most of my life, sometimes whispering, sometimes roaring. It has shaped my days, my thoughts, my dreams, and the way I love the people around me. It has taught me how to hold pain with both hands and still reach out anyway. I first noticed it in myself when I was young. I felt everything too deeply. The smallest comment could send my heart racing. I would overthink conversations, lie awake wondering if I said something wrong, and freeze when it came time to speak in class. My anxiety was always present, like a second heartbeat I could not control. Depression followed. It came in waves. Some days I could not find the strength to get out of bed. Other days I laughed too loudly, trying to drown out the ache that lived just under the surface. I lost friends I loved deeply. One walked away without explanation in sixth grade. Another, after seven years, told me I did not understand what real struggle meant. My first love ended without closure and left a space in me that took years to heal. I tried to be strong. I smiled when I was falling apart. I kept busy. I pushed through. But the silence of it—the isolation of carrying so much inside—nearly swallowed me whole. It was hard to explain to others. It still is. My depression and anxiety often feel like living underwater. The world above me keeps moving, but everything inside me feels slow, heavy, muffled. Some days I can no longer tell the difference between surviving and drowning. My family has always done their best, but mental illness is not something we talked about openly. My dad is a disabled veteran, and though he does not speak of what he went through, I see it in the way he moves. I see it in his quiet moments. I see it in the way he never lets on how heavy the world must feel on his shoulders. My mom worked tirelessly to give my sister and me everything she could. She carried the weight of our home while also trying to hold us together. We are a family that survives through love and laughter, but we all carry something unspoken. That silence taught me how to notice things others miss. I recognize the quiet sadness behind someone’s eyes. The way people shrink when they are overwhelmed. I see it because I’ve lived it. Mental illness has made school harder. I lose focus easily. My mind jumps from one thing to the next. I overthink my answers, second-guess my work, and sometimes shut down completely. But it has also made me more compassionate, more aware, more determined to show up not just for myself but for others. I want to use my experiences to make a difference. I want to plan events that feel like a warm blanket. Events that say you are not alone, you are worthy, you are loved. I want to create joy, not to erase pain, but to make room for healing. Mental illness has shaped me, but it has not broken me. It has made me softer, stronger, and more committed to living a life that lifts others up. That is how I will make my impact—in the quiet spaces, with open arms, and a heart that remembers what it feels like to be unheard. And I will keep going, one breath, one step, one celebration at a time.

Hi, I’m Adri. I’m a marketing major and event management minor with big dreams, loud playlists, and an unapologetic love for broccoli and cheese. I’m also someone who fully believes that changing the world does not have to look like fixing everything. Sometimes, it looks like showing up with snacks, making someone laugh when they least expect it, or planning a celebration that turns a regular day into something unforgettable. I want to make an impact by building joy. And I mean real joy. Not the kind you post for likes, but the kind that makes your chest feel warm and your eyes feel full. The kind that sneaks up on you after a long week and reminds you that you are worth celebrating. I’m going to start my own event planning business that focuses on people who usually get skipped over. I’m talking about first-generation grads who worked three jobs to get their degree. Queer couples who want a wedding that reflects who they really are, not what tradition expects. Families who do not have much money but still want to throw a birthday party that makes their kid feel like royalty. I want to help those folks have their moment. Their magic. Their cake, with extra frosting. But my business will not just be about throwing parties. It will be about creating space for people to feel important. I want to build moments that remind people that they deserve to take up space. That their joy does not have to be earned. That they do not have to be rich, loud, or polished to be worth celebrating. I want to bring joy to people in a way that feels honest and close to the heart. I also want to change the way people think about events. I want them to feel like community gatherings, not just photo ops. I want people to leave feeling connected, feeling full—not just from food, but from the laughter, the music, the stories. The kind of fullness that lingers. The kind that heals. I know I could have picked a career that sounded more serious. But I think there is something radical about choosing joy in a world that is heavy. About making space for people to breathe, laugh, and dance even when life feels hard. Joy is not small. Joy is powerful. I have always believed that the people who laugh the loudest are often the ones who have carried the most. That is true for me. I have struggled with depression and anxiety, with feeling invisible, with trying to be everything for everyone. Through all of it, I have found that what saved me was connection. Laughter. Light. That is what I want to give back. Through my work, I want to remind people that their stories matter. That their milestones are real, even if no one handed them a shiny trophy. I want to make events where people cry in the best way. Where they feel loved. Where they leave knowing they belong. So yes, I am serious about my business. I plan to bring cheese to every networking event. I plan to give heartfelt speeches that run a little too long. And I plan to laugh loudly and often. Because that is who I am. And that is how I want to change the world. One small, joyful moment at a time.

Mental health plays a quiet but powerful role in my academic performance and personal life. Some days, I can sit down and focus with no problem. But most of the time, it feels like my mind is moving a billion miles a minute. One thought skips to the next before I can finish the first. I start reading for class and suddenly I am thinking about what I said last week, or whether I remembered to email someone back, or how I forgot to eat lunch. It is hard to focus when your mind never slows down. This constant stream of thoughts makes school difficult. Assignments take longer because I reread the same paragraph five times. Group work is stressful because I worry that I am not contributing enough. Even things I enjoy become overwhelming if I am not in the right headspace. I start to doubt myself. I feel behind even when I am trying my best. In my personal life, it shows up in smaller ways. I forget things. I isolate without meaning to. I cancel plans because I feel too drained. Sometimes I am in a conversation and I realize I have no idea what the other person just said because I was stuck in my own head. It makes me feel disconnected, even from the people I care about the most. To manage it, I have started building routines that help me stay grounded. I write to-do lists and break my work into small steps. I use timers to keep myself focused in short bursts. I take breaks where I go outside or just sit in silence. I keep a notebook with me so I can write things down instead of trying to hold it all in my head. I also reach out to people when I need help. I talk to my friends. I let professors know when I am struggling. I am learning that asking for help does not make me weak. It makes me human. Some days, I still get overwhelmed. But I am learning to give myself grace. I am learning that mental health is not something you fix once. It is something you take care of, one day at a time. Making my mental health a priority means listening to myself. It means slowing down, even when everything around me is speeding up. It means remembering that I deserve rest. That I am not alone. And that I am still doing the best I can.

My name is Adri. I am a marketing major with a minor in event management at Washington State University. I am a first-generation college student, a Black and mixed woman, and someone who found direction through creativity and care. I chose this path not because it was easy, but because it felt right. Because I know what it feels like to be overlooked, and I want to build a life centered around making sure others are not. Marketing speaks to me because it is about people. It is about stories, emotion, and finding ways to reach those who need to be seen. Event planning is where my heart lives. I love creating moments. I love the work that goes into making something feel magical. And most of all, I love helping people feel celebrated. Growing up, I never saw people like me doing this work. I did not know anyone who was a Black event planner. I did not know anyone who talked about marketing from a place of love and not profit. The industry felt like it belonged to someone else. I want to change that. Only around seven percent of people in marketing are Black, and fewer are women like me. In event planning, the numbers are similar. I am part of a small group, but I believe that presence is powerful. Every time I take a step forward, I am opening a path for someone else. That matters to me. I plan to start an event planning business that works with people who are often forgotten. First-generation students. Queer couples. Families with small budgets. People who have never felt like they could afford something special. I want to make joy possible. Not perfect. Just real. I also want to be the person I once needed. I want to go into high schools. I want to talk to students who feel like college is not for them. I want to share what I learned the hard way. That you do not have to be perfect to succeed. That you can build something honest. That you can lead with care. I believe in celebrating people. Not for what they have, but for who they are. I believe in lifting others. I believe in making space. To the next generation, I want to say this. You do not have to change yourself to belong. You do not have to look like the people in the brochures. You do not have to shrink. You are enough. You are allowed to grow. And you are allowed to make this world better just by being in it. That is why I chose this path. Not for money. Not for recognition. But to create something that lasts. Something rooted in joy and built on care.

College is more than a building with classrooms. It is more than lectures, essays, and final exams. For me, college is a doorway. A doorway that no one in my family fully knew how to unlock, but one I’ve fought to walk through. It is a promise I made to myself—to try. To build something better. To become someone my younger self would be proud of. I grew up watching my parents do the best they could with what they had. My mom worked hard to raise me and my sister, often putting our needs ahead of her own without ever asking for thanks. My dad, a disabled veteran, did not live with us but made every effort to stay in our lives. He played games with us, watched our favorite shows, and did what he could to keep us connected. Their sacrifices were quiet but powerful. I carry them with me every day. No one in my immediate family had the map for higher education. We did not talk about college at the dinner table. We talked about bills. We talked about staying safe. We talked about getting through the week. When I finally decided to apply, I had to teach myself what FAFSA meant. I had to ask for help even when I was scared I’d sound foolish. I had to figure it out as I went. And I am still figuring it out. To me, going to college means breaking cycles. It means opening a path that others in my family might one day feel brave enough to follow. It means carrying the weight of being the first, while still holding space for who I am becoming. I do not want to go to college just to get a degree. I want to use my time here to grow into someone who can make a real difference. I am studying marketing with a minor in event management. I chose this path not just because I love planning and organizing, but because I want to make people feel seen. My dream is to create an event planning business that offers affordable, meaningful celebrations for those who often feel left out. First-generation graduates. Queer couples. Families with limited budgets. People who want to feel joy without needing to perform for it. College is giving me the skills I need to build that dream. I am learning how to communicate with others, how to lead, how to listen, and how to turn ideas into action. But it is more than just skill-building. It is the place where I am learning how to believe in myself. Every class I pass, every project I complete, every new challenge I face—it reminds me that I deserve to be here. What I want to accomplish is simple. I want to graduate. I want to use what I’ve learned to bring people together. I want to remind others that their stories matter. That their milestones are worth celebrating. I want to create joy that lingers long after the decorations come down. College is not easy. But it is worth it. Because I am not just here for me. I am here for everyone who never got the chance. And I plan to make it count.

My experience with mental health is not something I talk about in passing. It is not a small detail in the background of my life. It is the thread that has woven itself into everything I am. My beliefs. My relationships. My dreams. My doubts. It has shaped the way I see the world and the way I walk through it. Some days I carry it like a feather. Other days, it is an anchor I cannot lift. I started feeling it when I was young, but I did not know what to call it. I only knew that something in me always felt a little off. I felt too much. Thought too hard. Got quiet when things got loud. I grew up in a house with my mom and sister, and though there was love, there was also weight. My mom did everything she could to give us safety. She worked hard. She showed up. She gave until she had nothing left. My dad, though not in the house, tried his best to stay connected. A disabled veteran, he carried his own kind of silence, one I still do not fully understand. Between the two of them, I learned what it meant to fight quietly, to keep going even when the ground shakes beneath you. But even with love around me, I felt alone. I lost my first best friend in sixth grade. One day we were everything to each other, and then she decided she was done. No reason. No explanation. Just silence. I would watch the concrete basketball court in our neighborhood where we used to play and wonder what I had done wrong. It was the first time I truly felt abandoned. The first time I asked if maybe something in me was unlovable. Years later, I fell in love. The kind of love that feels too big for your chest. The kind you think is forever. But it ended. Slowly at first, then all at once. It took me three years to let it go. Three years of missing someone who had already moved on. Three years of hoping they might come back, even though deep down I knew they would not. That heartbreak cracked something open in me. I stopped trusting easily. I built walls out of silence and smiled through the ache. Senior year brought another loss. A best friend of seven years told me I did not understand real struggle. She said I was not there for her, even though she never told me what she was going through. She left without letting me in. I spent so long thinking we would grow old together. Her leaving made me question if I ever really knew how to be a good friend at all. All of this added up. I started losing pieces of myself. I stopped speaking in class. I stopped showing up for things I used to care about. I cried in secret. I smiled in public. I avoided mirrors. I avoided conversations. I did everything I could to disappear while pretending I was fine. I fell into a depression so quiet no one noticed. Or maybe they did, and just did not know how to help. Either way, I was drowning in plain sight. Anxiety made it worse. It was the fear of being judged. The fear of being wrong. The fear of simply existing in front of other people. I hated ordering food. I hated group projects. I hated walking into rooms where people might look at me. I froze up when asked to speak. My body would lock, my voice would vanish, and I would spiral in shame. Then came college. A new place. A new chance. But the same fear followed me. It sat beside me in class. It walked with me across campus. It stood with me at the edge of every opportunity I wanted to reach for but felt too small to grasp. But slowly, I began to fight back. I changed my major to marketing and added a minor in event management. It forced me to engage with people, to speak up, to network. I joined the archery club and became the marketing officer. I had to talk to staff. I had to lead. I had to ask for support. I helped raise over two thousand dollars for our team. I did the things I never thought I could do. Still, it is not easy. I still have bad days. I still question myself. But I no longer feel like I am trapped in silence. I have started to give myself grace. I have started to believe that pain does not make me weak. That the cracks are where the light comes in. My experiences with mental health have taught me to notice what others miss. I see the quiet sadness in others. I recognize the shaky hands. The forced smile. The way someone pulls away even when they want to stay. It has made me more gentle. More patient. More determined to build something that makes space for people who feel invisible. This is why I want to become an event planner. Not for the aesthetics. Not for the glitz. But for the chance to make people feel important. I want to create spaces where people feel celebrated. Where they feel safe. Where they feel loved. I want to plan weddings for couples who thought they would never be chosen. I want to plan graduations for students who had to claw their way to the finish line. I want to give people joy that does not ask them to perform. Mental health shaped my beliefs. It taught me that everyone is carrying something. That the world does not need more perfect people. It needs more people who care. I want to be one of those people. Not in grand ways. Not with speeches or spotlights. But in the quiet corners. With soft hands. And steady love.

I do not need to change the whole world in one sweeping act. I believe in changing it through intention, one celebration at a time. A graduation party for someone who never thought they’d walk the stage. A wedding that feels like home, not a photoshoot. A community event that gives people a reason to gather, to laugh, to feel like they belong. That is how I will make a positive impact. Through joy. Through connection. Through events that hold meaning. I am studying marketing with a minor in event management at Washington State University, not just because I enjoy the work, but because I have a clear vision. I want to start my own event planning business—one rooted in accessibility, empathy, and authenticity. A business that meets people where they are and helps them celebrate what matters most. Not just the big moments, but the quiet, sacred ones. Not just for the wealthy, but for anyone who deserves to be seen. I want to specialize in personal and community-focused events. Weddings, birthdays, graduations, family reunions, nonprofit fundraisers—anything that brings people together. I want to create packages and pricing structures that make beautiful, meaningful events accessible. I will offer sliding scale options, community sponsorships, and volunteer-supported events to bridge the gap for those with limited resources. My goal is to launch my business in a city where I can build long-term relationships with local vendors and venues who share my values. I want to work with Black-owned, queer-owned, women-owned businesses and help strengthen the communities I serve from the inside out. I want to use my marketing skills not just to promote myself, but to lift up others—highlighting the stories and talents of the people I work with, and the clients I support. I see my business growing into more than just a service. I want it to become a space where people feel safe and cared for. I want to offer workshops on planning on a budget, DIY design, and storytelling through events. I want to train and mentor young people who are interested in event planning but do not have the money or connections to break into the industry. I want my brand to reflect my values—kindness, creativity, and care. Not flashy. Not corporate. Just real. Honest. Intentional. This dream comes from experience. I grew up in a single-parent household. I know what it feels like to wish for a celebration you cannot afford. I know the pressure of wanting something special, and the heartbreak of feeling like you do not deserve it unless it is perfect. I want to change that. I want people to know that their milestones matter, even if their bank account says otherwise. The impact I want to make is about more than events. It is about memory. It is about helping people feel important. Seen. Loved. Especially those who have spent so much of their lives in the background. I do not want to just plan parties. I want to build joy. I want to create moments that stay in people’s hearts forever. That is how I will make a difference. And I am just getting started.

I was never the loud one. Never the first to speak, never the last to argue. I was the quiet shape in the room, the one who watched and listened and held words behind teeth like secrets. My voice lived in my chest like a bird too unsure to fly. I knew what I wanted to say. I just never knew how to let it live out loud. Anxiety wrapped itself around me like a fog. It was not loud or dramatic. It was the quiet panic in my throat when I had to introduce myself. The way my heart raced before I even spoke a word. The frozen silence when eyes turned toward me. I thought it was just who I was—someone who stayed small to stay safe. Then came my senior year. A speech and debate class, chosen for me, not by me. I remember staring at the schedule in disbelief. I begged to switch, offered to take anything else. I cried in the hallway, my hands shaking at the thought of being forced to speak. But no one changed it. So I stayed. For weeks, I said nothing. I counted the days like someone serving time. But I wasn’t the only one. Two other students carried the same nervous weight in their eyes. We became a quiet alliance. We shared our fears in whispers, practiced together when no one else was around. Somehow, in that shared softness, I started to believe I might survive it. The day I gave my first speech, I was shaking. My voice cracked. I forgot a line halfway through. But I stayed. I looked up. I kept going. And when I finished, I did not crumble. My classmates clapped. Not out of pity, but because they knew what it cost me to stand. That moment stitched something back together inside me. College brought new fears, but also new courage. Bigger classrooms. Group projects. Events where I had to network and present and lead. Still, that scared girl lived in me, the one who thought she might disappear if she made a sound. But I had met my voice now. And I was not letting go. I joined the archery club at my university and eventually took on a leadership role. I became the marketing officer. That meant emails to administrators, writing proposals, organizing our fundraiser. We raised over two thousand dollars. I had to speak about our goals, ask for support, believe in the story I was telling. I did it all with the same voice I once tried to hide. I am not fearless. But I am no longer quiet in the ways that used to hold me back. My voice is not perfect. It still trembles sometimes. But it shows up. It rises when it matters. It reaches others. And that’s enough. I used to think my silence protected me. Now I know it was my voice that saved me. And I plan to keep using it.

Selected Passage: Medea by Euripides (431 BCE) “Do you think I would have fawned on that man unless I had hopes of gaining something, or forming some scheme? I would not even have spoken or touched him with my hands. But he has reached such a pitch of foolishness, that, when it was in his power to ruin my plans by banishing me, he has allowed me to stay this one day, in which three of my enemies I shall lay low, father, daughter, and my husband.” Grief, in its most unruly form, often slips into silence. It becomes watchful. It simmers. And in the passage above, Euripides gives voice to that slow-burning fire—the moment when sorrow stops weeping and begins to shape itself into resolve. My understanding of this passage rests on a single truth: pain, when betrayed, can evolve into something purposeful and unrelenting. Medea does not scream here. She does not beg. She does not fall apart. She is calm. Calculating. That, more than anything, is what makes her terrifying. She has been wounded not only by love, but by its sudden evaporation—by the man who made promises and then, without ceremony, cast her aside. This is not a passage about madness. It is about clarity that only comes after devastation. Medea is not irrational. She is exact. She sees that Jason, the man who betrayed her, still underestimates her. He believes her grief will follow a script. He does not see the agency she still possesses. He gives her one more day. And with that, she gives him eternity in ruin. The strength of this moment lies in its bitter irony. Medea, a foreign woman in a Greek land, stripped of power, reputation, and community, uses the very grace she is offered as a weapon. She does not plead for more time. She uses what little she is given with surgical precision. There is something eerily poetic about that. She turns a moment of helplessness into one of control. The gods do not intervene. She is her own reckoning. This passage speaks not only to betrayal, but to the dangerous assumption that the voiceless will stay voiceless. Medea’s tragedy lies in what she has endured, but also in what she has become. She is both victim and architect of vengeance. Euripides gives her the language of sorrow and the will of fury. She does not conform to what grief should look like. She weaponizes it. And perhaps the most chilling thing about her is that she does so without apology. Her composure does not signify forgiveness. It signifies transformation. The line between humanity and monstrosity, love and violence, is blurred in her calm. She is, in a way, a mirror held up to every person who has been told to move on from grief before they were ready. Every person who swallowed pain while others moved forward without consequence. What Euripides lays bare through this character is a meditation on the thin border between affection and annihilation. Medea’s heart once housed trust, sacrifice, and hope. But what remains is scorched earth. Her former love has collapsed into something more powerful than hatred. It has become precision. She does not rage blindly—she sets her sights with clarity, and each act of vengeance is a line drawn with deliberate grace. It is also important to reflect on the social landscape that confines Medea. She is not Greek. She is not a wife anymore. She is not protected by citizenship or community. She is the foreign woman with a strange tongue and a wounded soul. In ancient Athens, where patriarchy and lineage defined worth, a woman without ties was a woman in danger. But rather than retreat, Medea becomes the storm. She takes the marginal space and reshapes it into power. One could argue that Medea’s act is an ancient scream for justice. Not justice in a legal or philosophical sense, but emotional justice. She reclaims narrative control. The world around her wants her quiet. Jason wants her erased. The king wants her exiled. Yet through cunning, through strategy, and through deep understanding of human nature, she remains. And that act of remaining, of refusing to be erased, is in itself an act of rebellion. Her vengeance is personal, yes. But it is also deeply symbolic. Her children, her rivals, her husband—they are the markers of what she has lost. Each one represents a part of herself that was taken without care. When she destroys them, she is not simply killing others. She is burying the past. She is demolishing every false promise that once gave her hope. The passage does not function as a call for imitation. It is not meant to suggest that pain must always turn violent. Rather, it calls us to examine what happens when pain is ignored. When injustice is normalized. When the grieving are silenced or dismissed. Euripides seems to ask: what do you think happens when a woman, denied a place in the world, decides to carve her own path through ash and flame? There is something melancholic, almost elegiac, in Medea’s path. We do not admire her. But we feel the weight she carries. And though we flinch at what she does, we are compelled to ask ourselves whether the world left her any other choice. That is the true tragedy. Not just the deaths. Not just the horror. But the inevitability. Euripides uses this character and this moment to interrogate power. Not just social power, but emotional power. Who has the right to feel? Who has the right to retaliate? Who gets to be heard when suffering? And who is asked to stay silent? In Medea, we see what happens when the questions are ignored. When a woman has been used, then tossed aside. When kindness has gone unanswered, and loyalty unrewarded. Her voice, steady and deliberate, is not just hers. It becomes a voice for every person who has been treated as disposable. This passage is a challenge. It demands that we look closer. Not to excuse Medea. Not to condone her wrath. But to understand the roots of her rage. And maybe, in understanding, to change the way we look at those who are suffering. Because if sorrow is not given air to breathe, it may one day find fire instead. And like Medea, it will speak without fear. It will act without mercy. And it will burn everything that tried to keep it silent.

My story starts with my dad. He served in the Army before I was born. I never saw him in uniform. I never saw him on deployment. But I live with the results of his service every single day. When I was born, he made the choice to leave the military. He chose to stay. He chose us. I know now that walking away from the only life he had known since high school was not easy. But he did it because he believed being there for his kids mattered more. He does not talk much about what happened during his time in service. I have asked, gently, and he always answers with a quiet change of subject. But I see it in other ways. I see it in the way his body hurts more than it should. In the way he goes still during loud noises. In the way he pushes through pain without ever complaining. He is a one hundred percent disabled veteran. But he has never let that stop him from being a father. Even though I grew up in a house with just my mom, my sister, and me, my dad never left. He was not there every night, but he was always there. He showed up. He played games with us. He watched our shows, even the ones he pretended not to like. He laughed with us. Listened when we needed him. He was there in all the ways that mattered. My mom was the one who carried the day-to-day. She worked hard to keep us safe and fed. She gave up a lot to make sure we could grow up without knowing how much she struggled. There were times I knew she was tired, but she still smiled. Still checked our homework. Still reminded us to believe in ourselves even when the world felt heavy. My sister and I never had much, but we had love. And that love kept us going. Now I am a college student, studying marketing with a minor in event management at Washington State University. I am the first in my family to walk this path. Some days I feel confident. Other days I still feel like that scared kid who did not know how to speak in class. But I keep going. Because I know I am walking for more than just myself. After graduation, I want to start my own event planning business. I want to create moments for people who deserve to be seen. First-generation graduates. Families who have been through loss. Couples who do not have much but still want to celebrate their love. I want to plan events that are more than just parties. I want to plan joy. The kind that makes people feel whole again. Everything I do is because of the people who loved me when I did not know how to love myself. My dad. My family. Their strength lives in me. And I want to carry it forward.

I grew up in a home that was built more on love than on stability. We did not always have everything we needed, but we had people who showed up. That has made all the difference. As a child growing up in a single-parent household, the support I received did not come from one place. It came from a circle. From the people who stood beside me when things were heavy and did not walk away. The person who has supported me the most in my education has been my mom. I lived with her and my sister, and she carried more than anyone should have to. She worked hard to keep a roof over our heads and still found time to show up for parent-teacher nights and late-night talks. She knew how to make our world feel steady even when everything around us was uncertain. Her love was quiet but constant. She did not need to say she believed in me, because I saw it in the way she fought for us. My dad, though we did not live with him, still did his best to be there. He is a disabled veteran who carries the weight of what he experienced without ever letting it steal his warmth. He played games with me, watched anime with me and my siblings, and always tried to stay close even when life made that difficult. His presence, even when it was limited, reminded me that love is not always loud, but it is still real. I also honor my aunt, who became a second parent in many ways. Her house was a safe place. She raised her children and fostered others too, and she never once made me feel like I did not belong. Her care helped shape who I am. She taught me the value of showing up for others without needing anything in return. My family gave me something that has mattered more than money or connections. They gave me belief. Belief that I could grow into something strong. Belief that I had value, even when I did not see it myself. That belief carried me through some of the hardest seasons of my life. There were times when anxiety and depression made school feel impossible. I cried over classes. I froze during presentations. I doubted my place in every room I entered. But every time I felt like quitting, I thought about my mom, working late and still smiling for us. I thought about my dad, who showed up in small ways that mattered. I thought about my aunt, who gave so much of herself so others could feel safe. I honor them by continuing to show up. I honor them by building a future that reflects the care they gave me. I am studying marketing and event management not just because I enjoy it, but because I want to bring people together. I want to create spaces of joy and celebration for people who do not always get to feel seen. Their support taught me that love looks like effort. It looks like consistency. It looks like staying even when things are hard. That lesson has stayed with me, and it is the foundation for everything I want to build. As I keep working toward my goals, I will carry their love with me in every decision, every plan, and every step forward. Because I am not doing this alone. I never was.

Service, sacrifice, and bravery are not just words you see on a plaque. They live in the choices people make, in the lives they give up, and in the quiet strength they carry forward. That is how I think of Sgt. Albert Dono Ware. And that is how I think of my father. My dad served in the Army. He does not tell stories about it, and I do not ask. I know enough. I know that he carries pain that never really left. I know that when I was born, he made a choice to leave that life behind so he could be present for ours. He is now a one hundred percent disabled veteran. He hurts every day, but he never lets it stop him from loving us. He plays games with me. He watches anime and K-dramas with my siblings and pretends he does not enjoy them, but he never misses an episode. That is love. That is strength. That is the kind of service that has shaped who I am. Because of him, I see service not just as a uniform, but as a life built around care. I want to serve people in a different way. My dream is to become an event planner and use that work to create joy and connection, especially for people who are often overlooked. I want to build moments where people feel like they belong, like they are seen, like they matter. But before I can build something new, I have to name what needs to change. As a member of the African diaspora, I know what it feels like to live in between pride and pain. I am proud of our culture. I am proud of our strength. But I have also felt the weight of being told I am too much or not enough. I have been called whitewashed. I have been told I do not look or act the way people expect. I have lived with anxiety and depression. I have questioned my worth. I have wondered what the point is when the people you care about always seem to leave. That kind of pain is not just personal. It is part of something bigger. It comes from systems that leave people behind. It comes from a history that has not healed. And that is where change needs to begin. The first place we need to focus is mental health. In too many Black communities, pain is passed down in silence. We are told to be strong. We are told to keep going. But we are rarely told that it is okay to ask for help. I want to see more mental health resources in schools, churches, and neighborhoods. I want to see counselors who understand the people they are helping. I want young people to know that feeling broken does not mean they are weak. Education is the second place where we need to do better. As a first-generation college student, I have learned everything by figuring it out as I go. No one taught me how to apply for financial aid. No one explained how to plan a class schedule. I made mistakes. I had to ask a lot of questions. And I know many others do not even know what to ask. We need mentorship programs. We need workshops in high schools. We need funding that helps students get to college and stay there. To make these changes real, we need to bring people together. Teachers. Parents. Students. Faith leaders. Health workers. Policy makers. No one can do this alone. The people most affected need to be part of the solution. Their voices need to guide the work. I want my future to be about more than planning parties. I want to create events that bring people together. I want to host community dinners, healing spaces, cultural celebrations. I want people to walk into a room I planned and feel peace. Feel pride. Feel joy. Sgt. Ware lived a life of courage. My father has lived one too. I carry that legacy with me. I may not wear a uniform, but I serve in my own way. I create space. I make people feel held. I show up even when it is hard. I believe in a world where no one feels invisible. And I want to help build that world, one event, one voice, and one story at a time.

Hi, I’m Adrienne. I’m a marketing major with a minor in event management, a chronic overthinker with a knack for organizing chaos, and the proud caretaker of a small zoo that includes a sleepy hamster named Jelly, a stick-like leaf bug named Wiggles, and two parakeets, Ori and Ocean, who treat affection like a weapon. I’m also someone who believes that kindness should be loud, events should be meaningful, and no celebration is complete without a snack table that makes people cry happy tears. Jelly and I have a lot in common. We both adore cheese and broccoli, and we both spend more time than we’d like to admit taking naps that turn into full-blown resets. Wiggles and I vibe in stillness. Some say she’s just standing there doing nothing. I say she’s practicing mindful avoidance. I respect that. Ori and Ocean? They’re my feathery little agents of chaos. They ignore people they don’t like and actively annoy the ones they do. Honestly, same. This may all sound like nonsense, but I promise, it connects. These pets are part of the life I’ve built as someone who has faced anxiety, heartbreak, and the quiet kind of sadness that creeps up when you’ve lost people you love. I’ve been through moments when I wasn’t sure what the point of it all was. When depression made everything heavy. When I questioned whether I was hard to love. I’ve felt invisible and loud at the same time, like I was both too much and not enough. But even in those moments, I kept going. I found comfort in silly things. In K-dramas that made me cry and then made me laugh. In watching The Dragon Prince and Attack on Titan with my dad, who claims he doesn’t like my shows but never misses an episode. He is a disabled veteran who rarely talks about what he went through, but he always shows up. That taught me something. Love doesn’t always need words. Sometimes it’s just sitting together on the couch, watching a world-ending anime and pretending it’s normal. College has helped me grow into myself. I took on leadership in the WSU Archery Club, helped raise over two thousand dollars, and organized events when no one else stepped up. I also learned how to speak in front of people, even when I felt like running. I faced my anxiety, one awkward handshake at a time, and found that I’m stronger than I thought. My dream is to create an event planning business that centers around joy. Not perfection. Not wealth. Just joy. I want to make people feel celebrated. Especially people who have had to fight to feel seen. First-generation grads. Queer couples. Families who deserve a moment to breathe and smile together. I want to build those moments. I want to make those memories. I believe in music that makes people dance without shame, in speeches that come from the heart, and in cupcakes that make people cry. I believe that everyone deserves to feel special, even if all they have is a backyard and a borrowed folding table. So yes, I am a little odd. My pets are weirder. My playlists are too long. But I care, deeply and loudly. And I want to make the world brighter, one celebration at a time.

I have spent most of my life feeling caught between things. Between silence and expression. Between who I am and who people expect me to be. Between wanting to be seen and being terrified of it. I am a bisexual, mixed Black woman. But I have rarely felt like I belonged to any single identity. I was told I was not Black enough. I was called whitewashed. I was told I did not act gay enough to be queer. Over time, I stopped trying to explain myself. I just learned how to shrink. On top of that, I have struggled with anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember. It does not show up in obvious ways. It looks like overthinking simple things. Crying quietly so no one will hear. Making excuses to avoid presentations. Feeling invisible in a room full of people. At one point, everything got too heavy. I was lost in a spiral. I questioned if it was worth continuing. What was the point, I wondered, when the people I loved most always ended up leaving? My first love, my closest friends, people I gave my whole heart to—they all faded from my life without warning or explanation. Each goodbye left me feeling emptier. I wondered if I was the problem. I wondered if I was hard to love. I wondered if life would always feel like this. But somewhere in all of that darkness, I held on. Even if it was just a little. Even if it was just to watch one more episode of a show with my dad. Or to see my hamster Jelly curl up into a sleepy little ball after eating broccoli. Or to listen to my birds scream at the people they like the most. I started noticing the small things that made me feel alive again. And slowly, I began to believe that I still had something to give. College gave me the space to rebuild. I changed my major to marketing and added a minor in event management. That one decision forced me to do things I was afraid of. I had to talk to people. Present ideas. Step into rooms I wanted to run from. But I stayed. I kept showing up. And piece by piece, I grew. I also found support through online friendships. People who accepted me for who I was. People who didn’t need me to explain or apologize. With them, I felt safe enough to open up. I started letting my voice come back. Being queer taught me that identity is not fixed. It shifts and deepens. Some days I feel strong. Other days I feel unsure. But both are valid. And both are me. My mental health journey has taught me what it means to survive, even when nothing makes sense. It has taught me how to be gentle with myself. How to rest without guilt. How to hope, even after being hurt. I am still learning. Still healing. Still growing into the version of myself I have always needed. And I am proud of that. Because I am still here. And right now, that is more than enough.

I share a house with birds and bugs And one soft bean who loves warm hugs. We are a flock, a squad, a mess. We are the reason I get less rest. Jelly, my hamster, my sleepy queen, Dreams of cheddar and broccoli green. She naps twelve hours, then yawns again— Honestly, same. We understand. Wiggles the leaf bug, a stick with style, Sleeps like the dead and moves once in a while. We vibe in stillness, we dodge the noise, Both avoiding conflict like it’s a choice. Ocean and Ori, my parakeet pair, They scream with love and curse the air. Ignore you cold if they think you’re lame, But if they like you, oh, the games. They bite your hair and chirp off-key, And judge your outfits silently. Affectionate chaos, feathery spite, Anxiety with wings in flight. We all have quirks, like most do too— My pets reflect what I’ve been through. Jelly hoards snacks. I hoard regret. Wiggles freezes. I disassociate. My birds scream louder when I cry, Probably trying to drown out why. But honestly, I think they know That sometimes healing is loud and slow. People ask, “Why so many pets?” And I say, “They love without debt.” They do not flinch when I am low, They nap, they chirp, they steal the show. So yes, we’re strange, and yes, we’re odd, And maybe sometimes I thank God For a bug who naps through mental breaks, A bird who squawks when my heartbreak aches, And a hamster who reminds me still, That cheese can fix what meds can’t fill.

I am a college student, but I carry more than just books on my back. I carry my father’s story, his strength, and the quiet weight of his service. He served in the Army before I was born. When I came into the world, he chose to leave the military. He chose us. He does not talk about those years. I think he has seen things that still follow him. He is now a one hundred percent disabled veteran. The pain is constant, but he never complains. He does everything he can to be there for us. He plays video games with me. He watches anime and shows with my siblings. Even if he says he does not like the K-dramas I love, he still sits beside me and watches every episode. He watches Attack on Titan, The Dragon Prince, and anything else we are into. He is not watching for the plot. He is watching because we are there. That is his love. Quiet, steady, always present. Watching him taught me what it means to keep going. It taught me that love is in the small moments. That kind of strength is what I carry with me into my education. I do not always know the right answers. Sometimes I feel lost in class. But I always try. I use every resource I can find. I ask for help. I keep going. YouTube helps me understand topics in ways that lectures sometimes cannot. I watch videos that show step-by-step examples and break concepts down visually. It helps me see the big picture. I use Quizlet to build flashcards and review what I have learned. It helps me study in short, focused sessions. Repetition helps me hold on to the material. I use Chegg when I get stuck on a problem. It walks me through the process so I can learn from it instead of just copying the answer. ChatGPT has helped me the most in my hardest classes, especially math. Math has always been tough for me. I use this tool to go through equations one step at a time. It takes the instructions my professors give and makes them clearer. It gives me confidence. When I do not know where to start, it helps me find a path forward. I go back to my study guides with new understanding. It helps turn confusion into progress. I also use my textbooks and the materials my instructors provide. I underline, highlight, and rewrite things in my own words. I study with friends online and talk things through with people who learn like I do. We quiz each other and share notes. They remind me that I am not alone. All of these tools and people help me learn. They give me structure when I feel overwhelmed. They give me encouragement when I doubt myself. They help me hold on to what matters. And through it all, I think about my dad. He gave up a life he knew so that I could have a different one. He does not expect anything in return. He just wants me to be happy and do my best. Every time I pass a class I thought I would fail, every time I finish an assignment that felt impossible, I think of him sitting on the couch next to me, watching a K-drama he pretends not to like, just to be with his kids. That is what keeps me going. That is what reminds me to keep learning with heart.

I did not follow the usual path to college. Mine was quiet and slow, made of small steps and steady hands. I did not grow up with a plan or a blueprint. I grew up with people doing their best, with a lot of love and not enough time, with lessons that were never written down but still stayed with me. My sister and I spent most of our childhood at my aunt’s house. It was full of cousins, two of them adopted by her, and more children than anyone could count on two hands. She was a foster parent, which meant there were always new kids coming through the door. Some stayed a few days, others longer. George and Dartanian stayed long enough to become part of us. They were not visitors. They were our brothers. We played in the backyard, fought over the last slice of pizza, and stayed up too late watching cartoons. They were home. Until they weren’t. They left suddenly. I do not remember why. Maybe the system moved them. Maybe someone decided it was time. All I know is one day they were there, and the next they weren’t. My aunt tried to fight for them. She called, asked, pleaded, but she was met with silence. I remember feeling confused, then angry, then just sad. That was the first time I learned that love does not always get to stay. And sometimes the people who should be allowed to love you do not get the chance. That loss taught me something soft but strong. It taught me that kindness is not just a gesture. It is a way of living. A way of seeing others and holding space for them. I carry that with me now, in everything I do. I have battled anxiety for years. There were times I could not speak in front of others, times I cried just thinking about it. I used to feel small in rooms that expected me to be big. But still, I kept showing up. In class, in clubs, in places that made my hands shake. I stayed. And I grew. At Washington State University, I joined the archery club. After our first competition, where six of us won medals, I felt proud—but also responsible. We did not have a marketing officer or someone to handle communication. No one to take what we built and keep it alive. So I stepped in. I wrote emails. I made calls. I started a fundraiser and helped raise over two thousand dollars. Not because I had to, but because I knew we deserved more. I believed in what we were building. The work did not stop there. I continued to speak up in meetings, to support my teammates, and to help us grow as a community. We trained through winter, made do with what we had, and kept showing up. Every person on that team mattered to me, and I wanted to make sure they felt it. I think that is what leadership looks like—not being in charge, but being invested. Caring when no one is watching. Doing the hard parts quietly. Outside of clubs and school, I try to be the same kind of person. I am the friend who sends long texts of encouragement, the one who remembers little things, who checks in even when they say they are fine. I am not loud, but I am steady. I believe in the people around me more than they often believe in themselves. I have seen how much people need to be reminded that they matter. That is why I want to become an event planner. I want to create moments that remind people of their worth. Graduations for first-generation students. Weddings for couples with small budgets. Community gatherings that bring people together who may never cross paths otherwise. These are not just events. They are reminders that everyone deserves to be celebrated. Eventually, I want to open my own event planning business. One where kindness is part of the foundation. One that never turns someone away because they do not meet a certain image or budget. I want people to feel seen. I want them to know they are not just welcome, but wanted. Andrea Worden saw people in that way. She looked past the surface and saw potential, perseverance, and heart. She knew that success was not just measured by what you achieved, but by how you cared. I never met her, but I feel connected to her story. Because I know what it means to keep showing up. I know what it feels like to keep giving even when your own heart is heavy. And I know what it means to keep believing in people, even when they have forgotten how to believe in themselves. I do not have a perfect past. But I have a present filled with purpose. I am still becoming who I want to be. I still have more to learn, more to give, and more to create. But I walk with compassion. I lead with empathy. And I hold close the lessons life has given me, even the hard ones. I want to build a life that makes people feel safe. I want to build moments that make people feel joy. I want to build spaces where people feel like they finally belong. That is the kind of impact I hope to have. And it starts here. With my story, with my heart, and with the kind of love that stays.

My name is Adri, and I am a marketing student with a minor in event management at Washington State University. I am a first-generation college student, a mixed Black woman, and someone who has spent a lot of her life learning how to feel comfortable in spaces that were not always made for people like me. But through everything, I have learned to embrace every part of myself and lead with care, creativity, and purpose. My childhood was filled with noise, movement, and love. My sister and I spent most of our time at my aunt’s house while our parents worked. Along with a group of our cousins, including two my aunt adopted, we all lived under one roof during the school year and summers. It was not quiet, and it was not always easy, but it was full of family and connection. My aunt was a foster parent, so we were also surrounded by children from different backgrounds who stayed with us for different lengths of time. It was through that experience that I learned how important it is to create a place where people feel safe and valued. That idea of creating space stayed with me. As I grew older, I realized I wanted to do something that brought people together, something that allowed others to feel like they belonged. That is how I discovered event planning. I realized that through thoughtful design, hard work, and intention, I could help create moments that celebrate people and their stories. Life has not always been easy. I have struggled with anxiety for most of my life. Speaking in front of others, participating in group projects, or even simple interactions like ordering food used to make me feel overwhelmed. But college gave me a chance to grow. I joined clubs, stepped into leadership roles, and slowly found my voice. I learned that fear does not mean you stop. It just means you take a breath and try anyway. One of the most important experiences I have had so far was through the WSU Archery Club. After our first competition in Spokane, where six of the seven of us won medals, I realized how important it was for us to keep building what we had started. We did not have a marketing or communication officer, so I stepped in. I contacted university staff, started conversations about making our club a recognized team, and created our Coug Crowdfunder campaign. We raised over two thousand dollars to support our club. It was a lot of work, but it taught me that leadership is about showing up, even when it is difficult. I want to take everything I have learned and turn it into something that helps others. I want to become an event planner who creates more than just beautiful spaces. I want to create moments of joy for people who do not always get to feel celebrated. I want to plan weddings, community events, school functions, and graduations for those who might not have the resources but still deserve to feel seen. Eventually, I want to build my own event planning business, one rooted in compassion, accessibility, and love. My goal is not just to plan events. My goal is to bring people together and remind them that their story matters. Whether it is a small moment or a once-in-a-lifetime celebration, I want to be part of creating something that stays in their hearts long after the day is over. This is how I hope to make a difference. One meaningful moment at a time.

I have always lived in the in-between. I am a Black woman, but I am mixed. I am bisexual, but not straight enough or gay enough. I have often been told I do not fit the boxes people expect me to stay in. Growing up, I struggled with that. I did not always sound like the other Black girls. I liked different things, moved through the world a little softer, a little quieter. For a long time, I felt like I was standing on the outside of every circle. But being in that middle space has given me a different way of seeing people. I notice who feels left out. I understand what it’s like to feel unseen or not fully understood. And so, I try to offer what I always needed—a little patience, a little warmth, a place to feel enough. My identity has shaped me into someone who listens before speaking, who pays attention to the quiet moments, who creates space for others to show up exactly as they are. It has taught me that I do not need to choose just one version of myself to belong. I belong everywhere I carry kindness, courage, and truth. I am still learning to take up space with confidence. Still learning that I am not too much or too little. Just enough, exactly as I am. And that is where I belong.

I was never in foster care, but my childhood was still shaped by it in a very real way. My aunt has been a foster parent for as long as I can remember, and her house was always full. It was where my sister and I spent most of our days while our parents worked. A lot of our cousins were there too, including two who were adopted by my aunt as babies. We all went to school near her home, and during the school year and summers, her house became our second home. It was loud, busy, sometimes chaotic, but it was also warm and full of love. Because my aunt was a foster parent, there were always other kids living with us. Some stayed for a short time, others a little longer, and each of them became part of our lives, even if only for a while. Two kids, George and Dartanian, were different. They stayed longer than most and became part of our family in a way that felt permanent. They were not related by blood, not even to each other, but they were brothers to us. We played outside together, made up games, argued like siblings, and made up like nothing ever happened. We laughed, shared snacks, and stayed up watching cartoons. They were never treated like guests. They were just one of us. I do not remember every detail from that time, but I remember them clearly. George always acted like the big brother, a little serious and protective. Dartanian had the kind of laugh that could fill a whole room. We made some of my favorite memories with them. I never once thought of them as anything other than family. Then one day, they were gone. I do not know the full story. Maybe they were reunited with their families. Maybe they were placed elsewhere. All I remember is that they left, and it hurt. My aunt tried so hard to keep in touch with them. She made calls, asked questions, and tried to understand why she could not reach them. She had given them a home full of people who loved them, but it still was not enough to keep them with us. After they left, things were different. My aunt continued to foster, and new kids came and went. But none of them stayed long enough to become part of the family the way George and Dartanian did. It was not because we didn’t care. It just never felt the same. I still think about them. I wonder where they are now, if they are okay, and if they ever think about us too. I hope they remember that they were loved. That they had a place where they belonged, even if only for a while. I am not sharing this story to speak on behalf of foster children. That is not my experience. But I do want people to understand the kind of impact foster care can have on the people who are not always seen. George and Dartanian were not just kids who passed through our home. They were part of our family. They helped shape my childhood. And even though they are gone, they are still with me. Always.

Chapter Two of Real Insights by John Graff focuses on ideas that go beyond real estate—they speak to anyone who works with people. As someone who wants to work in event planning and marketing, I found his advice both practical and personal. The lessons he shares about understanding people, staying curious, and being consistent in how you show up are things I want to carry into the career I’m building. One thing that stood out to me was how Graff talks about knowing your client. He writes, "Success in real estate hinges on truly understanding your client's desires and guiding them accordingly." That applies to event planning too. If I don’t take the time to understand what someone wants out of their event, then I’m not doing my job. Whether it’s a birthday party, a fundraiser, or a wedding, I want to make sure the people I’m helping feel heard and seen. Graff also talks a lot about communication. He stresses how important it is to be open and clear when talking to clients. In my experience helping organize club events and running our archery team’s fundraiser, I’ve learned that good communication is everything. It keeps everyone on the same page and helps prevent stress and confusion. It’s not just about explaining things well—it’s also about listening and being reliable. Another part of the chapter that stuck with me was about staying curious and never getting too comfortable. Graff encourages real estate agents to keep learning and to pay attention to what’s changing in the world around them. That’s something I’ve already started doing in marketing. There’s always a new trend or tool or idea, and I want to be someone who doesn’t fall behind. I want to bring fresh ideas into the events I plan, and that means keeping my eyes and mind open. He also points out that being yourself is important. He says that standing out in the industry comes from being real with people. In events and marketing, people aren’t just buying a service—they’re trusting someone with their important moments. I want to build that kind of trust by being genuine and bringing my full self into the work I do. That includes my creativity, my background, and my personal style. Even though Real Insights was written for people in real estate, the lessons in Chapter Two apply directly to what I want to do with my life. I want to use those same values—listening closely, staying curious, being reliable, and staying true to who I am—to help create moments people will always remember.

For me, graduating from college is more than just a milestone. It is the promise of a life I have fought hard to create. It is the celebration of growth, resilience, and the belief that I deserve to take up space in a world that hasn’t always made me feel welcome. As a first-generation college student, a Black mixed woman, and someone who has battled anxiety, this degree means liberation. And more importantly, it means I can finally start building the future I’ve always dreamed of—not just for myself, but for the people I hope to serve. Once I graduate from Washington State University with a degree in marketing and a minor in event management, I plan to launch a career in event planning, with the long-term goal of creating my own business that brings joy, connection, and meaning into people’s lives. My dream is to design and coordinate events that center community and celebration, whether it’s a wedding, a graduation party, or a cultural event that brings people together across backgrounds. I want to build a business that is accessible and inclusive, especially for families who do not have the luxury of hiring high-end event planners. I want to be the person who helps them create memories anyway. Growing up, we did not always have the time, space, or resources to celebrate milestones the way I saw other families do. We did what we could, and I cherish those memories, but I also remember what it felt like to watch from the sidelines. That feeling stayed with me, and now I want to be the person who makes sure others do not have to feel that way. I want to build a business that says, “Your story matters. Your joy matters. And we will find a way to celebrate it.” Whether it is for a low-income family, a first-generation graduate, or a couple getting married without a big budget, I want to offer services that feel thoughtful, joyful, and full of heart. What makes me passionate about this work is not just the planning itself. It’s the connection. I love organizing the pieces, from venue coordination to color palettes, but more than that, I love how events bring people together. I love seeing someone’s face light up when they walk into a room that reflects who they are. I love the laughter, the shared meals, the stories. I want to keep creating those moments for others, especially people who are often left out of that kind of beauty. My experience as the Marketing Officer for the WSU Archery Club has prepared me for this future in ways I never expected. I took on leadership not because I had a title at first, but because I saw a need and decided to step into it. After our first-ever competition, where six out of seven of us won medals, we received a lot of attention. But we had no formal communication system in place. No one to maintain contact, to network, or to tell our story. So I became that person. I handled outreach, even when it was difficult. I pushed through unanswered emails and delayed responses. I took the lead in organizing our Coug Crowdfunder campaign and helped raise over two thousand dollars. I advocated for better practice conditions, knowing our team deserved more than standing in the cold all winter. Through it all, I learned how to connect with others, how to plan under pressure, and how to lead with heart. These are the same skills I will bring into my future career—and they are the foundation of the business I want to build one day. I also bring the lessons I’ve learned through anxiety. For years, anxiety kept me small. It kept me from speaking in class, from ordering my own food, from presenting ideas I was proud of. I used to cry when I got placed in speech class, terrified of having to speak. But slowly, through encouragement from online friends, supportive professors, and real-world responsibilities, I started to find my voice. I still feel fear sometimes, but I’ve learned to speak anyway. I’ve learned that strength can be quiet. It can be in the way you keep going. That is the strength I want to carry with me, and share with others. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial support. It would mean affirmation. It would mean someone else believes in me, just as I’ve learned to believe in myself. Like many students, I carry the weight of tuition, housing, food, and living expenses. Every dollar makes a difference. This scholarship would give me more freedom to focus on my studies, to say yes to internships and leadership opportunities, and to keep showing up in my community without having to sacrifice my mental or physical well-being just to stay afloat. It would also serve as a reminder of why I’m here. I didn’t come to college just to get a job. I came to college to build something meaningful—to take my experiences, my skills, and my voice and turn them into something that uplifts others. I came to build a life filled with purpose, creativity, and care. This scholarship would allow me to take one more step toward that life. My future plans are rooted in service and celebration. I want to work with nonprofits and schools to create events that honor underrepresented voices. I want to partner with small businesses and local venues to make magic accessible. I want to use my platform to support other first-generation students, to mentor those who feel like they don’t belong, and to remind people that they are worthy of celebration no matter what. Graduating from college is not the end of my journey. It is the beginning of the life I’ve always wanted to live. One where I create, uplift, and lead with intention. One where I help others believe in their own joy, just as I have learned to believe in mine. And with your support, I will get there.

Faith, for me, has never only lived in religion. It has taken many shapes throughout my life. Sometimes it is a soft belief in myself, barely louder than a whisper. Other times it is found in the people who show up for me when I cannot show up for myself. Most of all, it is the invisible thread that keeps me grounded when everything else feels uncertain. This kind of faith has guided me through every challenge I have faced—especially in my pursuit of higher education. I am a first-generation college student. That phrase holds more than its definition. It means walking a path my parents never had the opportunity to finish. It means learning how to advocate for myself, how to find financial support, how to navigate unfamiliar systems, and how to hold onto my dreams even when they feel too far away. There were many moments when it felt easier to give up, to believe that maybe college wasn’t meant for someone like me. But something inside me said otherwise. That something was faith. Faith told me to keep going. It reminded me that there was more waiting for me than what I could currently see. Faith was the quiet courage that lived beneath the fear, the part of me that believed I had something meaningful to offer the world. My older brother was the first in our family to attend college. Watching him walk that path before me planted a seed in my heart. He proved that it was possible. He carried his own weight while showing me that I could carry mine. He did not pressure me to follow in his footsteps, but his journey lit the way for mine. My parents, though they never completed their degrees, have been a constant source of strength. My dad is a disabled Army veteran who rarely speaks about his service, but everything he does is rooted in care for others. His silence taught me that strength does not always need words. My mom, a woman of quiet determination, gave me love in the form of consistency and sacrifice. They gave me everything they could, even when they had very little themselves. Faith has also come from unexpected places—like my online friends. Many of them I have never met in person, but they have played a powerful role in helping me become who I am. When I was afraid to speak, they listened. When I doubted myself, they reminded me what I was capable of. They brought out a side of me that had been hiding for too long. With their support, I began to feel more confident, more deserving of space. That growth became even more real when I changed my major to marketing and added a minor in event management. This shift forced me out of my comfort zone in every way. Suddenly I had to present in front of classes, lead group projects, attend networking events, and speak to strangers. These were all things that once terrified me. I used to avoid presentations to the point of tears. I froze when asked to speak in groups. Teachers left comments on my assignments like “Does not participate” and “Refuses to present.” But with every new challenge, I chose to try again. Now, I am the Marketing Officer for the WSU Archery Club. I helped launch our Coug Crowdfunder campaign and raised over two thousand dollars to support our team. I took the lead on contacting campus departments and building connections to help our club grow. It was not always easy. Many emails went unanswered, and progress felt painfully slow. But I kept showing up because I believed in what we were building. That is what faith looks like to me. It is not always loud or certain. Sometimes it looks like sending one more email when you are tired. Sometimes it looks like speaking up even when your voice shakes. Sometimes it is just choosing to believe that you are capable of more. Pursuing a college degree is about more than a career. It is about claiming space I once believed I did not belong in. It is about honoring the people who pushed me forward. My family, my mentors, my friends, and becoming the kind of person who can one day do the same for someone else. Faith is what brought me this far. And it is what will carry me forward, into a future I am finally learning to believe I deserve.

Leadership does not always come with applause. Sometimes, it begins in silence, with no title, no spotlight, and no certainty, only the quiet knowing that someone needs to step forward. I am a member of the Washington State University Archery Club. What started as a curiosity became a passion, not just for the sport, but for the people who made up the club. Archery gave me a sense of belonging. It gave me purpose. And eventually, it gave me a chance to lead. After our first competition in Spokane, everything changed. Six out of seven of us medaled. It was an incredible accomplishment for a new club, and suddenly we were being recognized. There were conversations with officials, new connections, new energy. But with that recognition came a realization. We had no communications officer. No marketing lead. No one assigned to keep in touch with the people we were meeting. So I stepped in. I began reaching out to contacts and following up with the right departments to help us become a recognized sports team. It was not easy. Emails went unanswered, leads went cold, and progress felt slow. But I kept going. I knew that if we wanted our club to grow, to attend more competitions, and to be taken seriously, someone had to do the work. This was a personal challenge. I have lived with anxiety for most of my life. The kind that makes your voice disappear. The kind that turns a simple introduction into something that feels like drowning. I used to cry over presentations, avoided group projects, and made excuses to escape public speaking. Even asking a question in class could send me spiraling. Struggling with anxiety means trying to explain to your parents or friends why you freeze when you have to talk to someone you do not know. It means watching yourself shut down in moments when you want to speak, but cannot. I have lived in that space for years. But something about this opportunity pulled me forward. I had found something I cared about deeply, and it gave me the courage to act, even when I was afraid. At the same time, I created and launched our Coug Crowdfunder campaign, the official fundraising platform for WSU clubs. I wrote the campaign, organized our contact list, and managed the outreach. That campaign raised over two thousand dollars, which will go toward competition fees, better gear, and a warmer practice space for our team during harsh winter months. This experience taught me that leadership is not about being the loudest voice in the room. It is about persistence. It is about doing the work no one sees. It is about pushing forward even when it would be easier to stay silent. Most importantly, it is about believing in something bigger than yourself and doing whatever it takes to support it. As I look to the future, I plan to bring this same quiet strength into my career in event planning and marketing. I want to create spaces where people feel seen, where joy is intentional, and where community thrives. Whether I am planning a wedding, a corporate retreat, or a grassroots fundraiser, I will lead with empathy, creativity, and heart. I know now that leadership does not require perfection. It requires care. It requires showing up, over and over, with a steady hand and an open heart. And that is exactly who I am.

I have always struggled with anxiety. Not the kind that people always notice, but the kind that quietly shapes how you move through the world. The kind that turns small moments into overwhelming ones. The kind that makes it nearly impossible to speak, even when you want to. Struggling with anxiety is trying to explain to my friends or my parents why I freeze up when I have to talk to someone I don’t know. Why I avoid presentations. Why my teachers keep sending home comments that say, “She doesn’t participate in group discussions,” or, “She refuses to present in class.” But it’s not refusal. It’s survival. Anxiety is when your body mistakes talking in front of people for danger. When you try your hardest to speak, but nothing comes out. When your thoughts spin faster than your mouth can catch up, and suddenly it feels like you are underwater, trying to breathe but sinking instead. It is the fight-or-flight response so intense that your brain cannot tell the difference between answering a question and drowning. That was me for most of my life. In my senior year of high school, I was placed in a speech and debate class I didn’t choose. I cried when I realized I couldn’t switch out. I tried to avoid every presentation, begged my teacher for alternative assignments, and came up with excuses that sounded like laziness but were really fear. And yet, something good still came from it. I met two people who understood what I was going through. We never had to explain ourselves—we just got it. We became friends, and together we got through it, one shaky speech at a time. We don’t talk anymore, but I’ll never forget them. They were proof that I wasn’t alone. Later, when I changed my major to marketing and added a minor in event management, I unknowingly threw myself into everything I once feared. Suddenly, I was required to present, network, interview, and lead. There was no room to hide. At first, I wanted to run. But I stayed. And I grew. Every time I stood in front of a class, voice trembling and palms sweating, I proved to myself that I could. Every time I introduced myself at a networking event or interviewed someone for a project, I chipped away at the fear. It didn’t disappear, but I stopped letting it control me. Now, I find joy in the things I used to avoid. I lead club meetings, speak up in class, and work on event teams that bring people together. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Pursuing a college degree is not just about academics or future job titles. It’s about reclaiming the parts of myself that anxiety tried to silence. It’s about learning that fear doesn’t make me weak. It makes me human. And when I face it, I grow stronger. Anxiety still lingers, and some days are harder than others. But now, I move through fear instead of running from it. I use my voice—not perfectly, but honestly. And that, to me, is what success really looks like.

I do not believe I am more deserving than anyone else. There are people whose stories echo mine, and others whose lives look completely different. Some carry heavier burdens, some wear quieter pain. But I have never believed that worth is a competition. I believe that everyone deserves to dream. Everyone should be given the chance to reach for something beautiful, something they care about deeply. Our dreams matter, not because we are better than others, but because we are human. That includes me. I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve. Not because I am perfect. Not because I have it all figured out. I am worth it because I am trying. I am worth it because I continue to show up. I am worth it because people believe in me. And that belief holds weight. It grounds me. It reminds me that I have a responsibility to follow through. Not just for myself, but for the people who look at me and say, “You can do this.” I am a queer, mixed Black woman living in a world that often asks me to shrink. I have been called “whitewashed” by people who never took the time to understand my story. I did not always speak or move through the world the way others expected me to. I did not grow up with the same cultural touchstones as the other Black kids around me. For a long time, I felt like I was not enough of anything. Not Black enough. Not queer enough. Not bold enough. But I have learned that identity is not something to prove. It is something you live. I live mine fully, even when it does not look like what others expect. My Blackness is layered and real. My queerness is soft and radiant. I do not need to fit into anyone else’s idea of what I should be. I exist in the spaces in between. I know now that those spaces are sacred too. What makes me different is not just the way I identify, but the way I carry myself. I eat around my plate in a circle, savoring everything slowly. I light up when I talk, skipping from story to story, my words tumbling out faster than I can organize them. I forget things mid-sentence because my excitement gets ahead of my breath. I love fashion and helping others feel good in what they wear. My closet is a collection of color and creativity that I share joyfully with my friends and roommates. I replay the same games and rewatch the same shows, not because I need something new, but because comfort matters to me. Familiar things remind me that I am safe. I am worth my dreams because I was given the chance to pursue them. And I will not waste that chance. I will use it to grow, to heal, and to help others do the same. I will use it to create a life that reflects every part of who I am. So no, I do not believe I am more worthy than anyone else. But I believe I am worthy. I believe we all are. And I will walk forward holding my dreams with care, not just for myself, but for the people who are still learning they are allowed to dream too. Because I am still learning too. And that journey is enough.

Mental and physical wellness are not just important to me—they are the foundation of everything I am working toward. As a college student, daughter, friend, and queer Black woman, I carry a lot on my shoulders. Taking care of myself is not a luxury. It is survival. It is how I stay grounded while navigating a world that often tries to pull me apart. My mental health journey started young, though I did not have the words for it then. I spent years struggling with depression, masking it with humor and trying to be the person everyone needed. I was the friend who smiled even when she was breaking. The student who turned in assignments while barely holding it together. The daughter who stayed strong so no one else had to worry. For a long time, I convinced myself that asking for help made me weak. But I have since learned that caring for your mind is one of the strongest things you can do. In college, it is easy to let your well-being fall to the side. Between classes, work, responsibilities, and trying to find where you belong, it becomes a challenge just to take a breath. My days are often filled with rushing between commitments, trying to meet deadlines, keeping up appearances, and holding space for others—all while trying to hold space for myself. Some days I forget to eat or convince myself I do not have time to rest. And when I do find a moment of peace, guilt often creeps in, as if self-care is something I have not earned. Being queer adds another layer to that. As a bisexual woman who is often labeled “whitewashed,” I have struggled with belonging. I have existed in between—never quite fitting into expectations of what Blackness or queerness is supposed to look like. Growing up, I rarely saw people who looked or sounded like me. I often felt invisible, or like I had to tone down who I was just to be accepted. That emotional weight shows up in my body. It shows up in the way I hold tension, the way I shrink myself in certain rooms, the way I overthink every word I say. This is why wellness matters to me. Because my body holds every version of me—every heartbreak, every quiet victory, every moment I have had to choose myself when it would have been easier not to. My wellness is not just about avoiding burnout or staying physically healthy. It is about reclaiming my space. It is about giving myself permission to exist without apology. It is about understanding that rest is not laziness. That joy is not indulgent. That softness is not weakness. I am learning to listen to myself again. To make room for the hobbies that bring me peace. To surround myself with people who affirm my identity and love me as I am. To treat my mind and body with the kindness I give so freely to others. And while it is still a work in progress, I know that taking care of myself is not selfish—it is necessary. As a queer, mixed, Black woman, I have learned that the world will not always protect my peace. So I am learning to protect it myself. And I hope that by living openly and authentically, I can make it a little easier for someone else to do the same.

I have never believed that one person is more important than another. Sure, celebrities might have red carpet moments and millions of followers, but once the lights fade, we are all human. We all crave connection, understanding, and the feeling of being seen. Everyone’s life matters. I do not think I am more special than anyone else, but I do know I am wonderfully unique—and that is something I have learned to take pride in. What makes me different shows up in the smallest ways. I eat around the edges of my plate instead of mixing everything together. Not because I have to, but because I like it that way. I light up when I talk, often jumping from one story to the next because I am too excited to keep them in order. I laugh at myself when I forget what I was saying, and eventually I find my way back. My energy is contagious, and I bring it with me everywhere I go. Fashion is one of my greatest joys. My closet is full of pieces that reflect who I am on the inside—bold, creative, expressive, and sometimes a little unpredictable. I love sharing outfits and giving fashion advice to my friends and roommates. Watching them light up in something that makes them feel powerful fills me with so much happiness. For me, clothes are more than fabric. They are confidence, comfort, and identity all at once. I play the same games over and over and never get tired of them. I keep a list of shows I rewatch whenever I need comfort, and even after the tenth time, they still feel like home. I find peace in the familiar, and I let myself enjoy what I love without apology. I am also a Black woman who is mixed and bisexual. Growing up, I was often told I was “whitewashed.” I never really felt like I belonged in the Black spaces around me because I did not share the same culture, experiences, or ways of speaking. For a long time, I thought that made me less valid. I questioned whether my identity counted if I did not look or act like the people around me. Now, I know better. Being Black is not a mold I have to fit into. It is a part of me that no one can define except for me. My voice, my story, my background, and my personality all exist at once. I do not need to prove my Blackness or my queerness to anyone. I simply live it. So how do I make a difference in someone’s life without even knowing it? By being myself. Loudly. Joyfully. Authentically. I share my passions, my stories, my style, and my quirks with the world around me. Maybe someone sees me and realizes they do not have to fit into a box either. Maybe someone feels less alone because they see someone living fully as themselves. I do not need a stage to make an impact. I do not need fame to matter. I only need to keep being true to who I am. If that helps even one person feel more free to be who they are, then I have already made a difference.

My story begins in borrowed spaces. Growing up, my sister and I spent most of our mornings at my aunt’s house. She was a foster parent, and her home pulsed with life—filled with cousins, foster siblings, shared cereal, and the quiet resilience of children learning how to carry more than their years should allow. My parents worked endlessly, trying to rebuild after we lost our house and moved into a small apartment. We didn’t speak about struggle. It simply lived with us like a quiet shadow, woven into daily routine. Before school, we would gather—my sister, our cousins, the foster kids, and me—around the living room television. Our ritual was Meerkat Manor. We watched with wide eyes as the little desert sentinels battled predators, guarded their families, and made impossible choices to protect their own. I was especially drawn to one meerkat named Flower. She was brave, compassionate, and the heart of her group. Despite the dangers around her, she stood tall, never letting her fear dictate her love. I resonated with Flower before I even knew why. She taught me that leadership didn’t require size or strength—just the willingness to care even when the world felt unforgiving. That lesson clung to me when I entered middle school and the cracks beneath my feet began to show. In sixth grade, I experienced my first heartbreak—not romantic, but deeply personal. My best friend, the one I trusted with every piece of myself, decided one day that she no longer wanted me in her life. There was no fight. No closure. Just silence. We had met in our neighborhood and gone to different elementary schools, but we reconnected in middle school. Our friendship bloomed on the old concrete basketball court nearby. It became our refuge. I remember one afternoon vividly: we were sitting on the court, and a small flower had grown up through one of the cracks. It looked impossibly delicate against the concrete, yet it thrived. We both stared at it for a moment, quiet in our admiration. That flower became a symbol for me—proof that softness could survive in hard places. But when she walked away, something inside me withered. I didn’t have the words for it then, but it was grief. It was the first time I questioned my worth, wondering if something about me was unlovable or disposable. I carried that wound quietly, and it grew into something deeper. That was the beginning of my battle with depression. It resurfaced again in 2018, when I fell in love for the first time. The kind of love that feels like home until it doesn’t. When it ended, I spent three years trying to heal. The heartbreak wasn’t just about losing a person—it was about losing the version of myself I had built around them. I felt like a shell, like my sense of being had cracked all over again. Then came my senior year of high school, when another friendship shattered. A best friend of seven years told me I didn’t understand “real struggle.” She didn’t want to be my friend anymore. What broke me wasn’t just her absence—it was the fact that she never told me she was in pain. She never gave me the chance to be there, to listen, to care. And yet, I blamed myself. I questioned whether my own pain had ever been valid. I started to believe I was just too much—or maybe not enough. By the time I got to college, I was already carrying more than most people could see. I started as a zoology and pre-vet major, trying to chase a dream that never felt fully mine. I struggled. My mental health unraveled. I stopped attending classes, lost my appetite, and drifted further into silence. For a long time, I felt like I was vanishing, piece by piece. No one knew how bad it had gotten because I was still smiling in public. Still pretending. Eventually, I reached out for help. I was placed on medication. I started therapy. Slowly, I began to rebuild the girl I had forgotten how to be. I changed my major to marketing and event management—and for the first time, I felt aligned. Planning events, making people feel seen, creating joy out of nothing—it reminded me of who I was. The girl who loved making others smile. The girl who felt things deeply. The girl who had spent her life putting others first and asking for nothing in return. Now, I serve as the Marketing Officer for the WSU Archery Club. I’ve helped friends with social media and branding for their small businesses and streaming content. I’ve learned how to plan and lead and lift others up. Most importantly, I’ve learned that my empathy is not a weakness—it is my greatest strength. I want to build an event planning business that serves people like me—first-generation students, families with limited resources, people who don’t often get to feel like the center of something beautiful. I want to create spaces where people can celebrate who they are and how far they’ve come. Mental health has shaped every corner of my life. It’s taught me how to love more gently, how to show up even when it’s hard, how to sit with people in silence and say, “I see you.” I’ve lived through loss, rejection, and emptiness, but I’ve also lived through healing. And what I’ve learned is this: surviving is only the beginning. Building a life with meaning, with compassion, with purpose—that’s where the real work begins. I want to build that kind of life. Not just for me, but for everyone who has ever felt like they were the flower trying to grow through concrete.

What I want to build isn’t made of bricks or concrete. It’s made of people, emotions, and memories. I want to build a future where I bring people together through meaningful and inclusive events. My dream is to own an event planning business that focuses on creating special experiences for people from all walks of life. Whether it’s a wedding, a community celebration, or a graduation party for a first-generation student, I want to create spaces where people feel seen and celebrated. This goal is deeply personal. Growing up, my family didn’t have the money or resources to throw big parties or celebrate every milestone. I’m a first-generation college student, and I’ve seen how hard it is for families like mine to enjoy the same experiences others may take for granted. That’s why I want to give back. I want to help others mark their achievements, especially those who never thought they’d have the chance. At Washington State University, I’ve already started preparing for this future. As the Marketing Officer for the WSU Archery Club, I’ve helped plan events that brought people together and built a stronger sense of community. I’ve also worked in hospitality, learning what it means to truly take care of guests and create a welcoming environment. On top of that, I’ve supported friends with marketing ideas and social media planning, combining creativity with strategy to help their visions come to life. What I want to build isn’t just a business. It’s a way to give back to my community. I want to hire diverse teams, partner with small vendors, and offer affordable options for families who deserve just as much joy as anyone else. Most of all, I want to be living proof that someone who came from a modest background can create something meaningful, not just for themselves but for others too. I want to build a future full of moments that matter. One celebration at a time, I want to help people feel valued, understood, and proud of how far they’ve come.

My father is a veteran. He served in the Army up until the day I was born. That’s when he made a decision that would shape the rest of our lives—he chose family over the uniform that had once given him structure, purpose, and maybe even a way to escape from the world that had already taken so much from him. He never talks about his time in service. And I never push him to. What little I know comes in fragments—offhand comments when we’re gaming together, or a quiet look when a loud sound breaks the peace. I remember one day when he paused a game we were playing and said softly, “You never forget the people you’ve killed or the sounds of the gunshots.” Then he went back to playing like nothing had been said, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That one line stayed with me. It still does. It’s hard to imagine the things my dad has seen—things he’s tried so hard to shield us from. But the silence itself speaks volumes. I know he suffers from PTSD, and I know it’s deeper than he lets on. He carries it in the way he flinches at sudden noises, the way he avoids certain conversations, the way he spends late nights quietly alone. He tries so hard to be the strongest version of himself for me and my siblings. Parents are supposed to carry the world on their shoulders, right? But sometimes, I see how heavy that world is for him. Through watching my father, I’ve learned that strength isn’t loud. It’s not in medals or uniforms or grand gestures. Sometimes, strength is waking up every day and choosing to live with the memories. It’s keeping your pain in check so your children can grow up without carrying it too. It’s choosing to be gentle when the world taught you to be hard. My father has taught me what quiet resilience looks like. But I’ve also learned that silence can be dangerous. Veterans like my dad often suffer in the shadows because they feel like they have to—because they were trained to push through, to be tough, to not talk about the things that broke them. But healing can’t happen in silence. And the more I see what my dad carries, the more I want to help others put that weight down. To my daddy: I’m proud of you for carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, but now it’s time for your children to help you carry the burden so you’re no longer alone. You don’t have to keep being the hero in silence. We’re here. We see you. And we love you through every part of your story—even the ones you can’t bring yourself to tell. I’m not a veteran. I haven’t seen what he’s seen. But I have something just as important: empathy, and the will to listen. I hope to use what I’ve learned to create safe spaces for veterans—places where they can speak without fear, or sit in silence without judgment. Whether that means working in event planning for veteran wellness programs, running support groups, or simply offering a listening ear, I want to help break the cycle of isolation that PTSD feeds on. My father gave up a piece of himself to give me a life of peace. The least I can do is spend mine trying to help others like him find peace again.

There’s something about growing up that nobody really prepares you for. People talk about all the big milestones—getting your license, falling in love, finishing high school—but not the quiet parts. The parts where you look in the mirror and barely recognize the person staring back. The parts where you feel like you’ve lost something you can’t name. When I heard Olivia Rodrigo sing, “I’m sorry that I’m not enough, maybe I’m just not as fun as I used to be,” in Teenage Dream, I froze. It felt like someone had taken a feeling from deep inside me and turned it into words. I had never heard a line sum up the way I’d been feeling for years. During my teenage years, I went through more than I let on. I smiled when I needed to, kept things light, tried to be the version of me people remembered—the bubbly one, the easygoing one. But underneath, I was struggling. Depression made me feel like I was fading. I stopped laughing as much. I started questioning whether people still liked being around me, or if I’d changed too much to be lovable. I used to feel like I gave so much of myself away to keep others happy. I’ve always been a people pleaser at heart. Someone who wears her feelings openly, who cares deeply and maybe a little too much. My heart has always felt fragile—like glass. It shines and it’s real, but it can break. And so, over time, my mind became the stone around it. I built walls to protect myself, to keep from shattering. I became quieter, more careful, more withdrawn—not because I stopped caring, but because I cared so much it hurt. That’s why Teenage Dream hit so hard. It didn’t try to fix the feeling or turn it into something pretty. It just existed in it, and in doing so, it told me I wasn’t alone. It gave me permission to mourn the version of myself I felt like I’d lost. And even more, it reminded me that it’s okay to change. That not being “fun” all the time doesn’t make you less lovable. That growing up doesn’t mean becoming less—it just means becoming different. Songs like this help people like me feel seen. Not the version of me I present to the world, but the quiet version. The one that cries at night and feels too much. The one that’s still learning how to be soft without being broken, how to be open without falling apart. I’m still figuring it out. But now, when I think about those lyrics, I don’t just hear sadness—I hear strength. I hear someone who’s trying. And that’s enough.

In the most dissonant seasons of my life, those suspended in melancholy, where silence thundered louder than sound, Billie Eilish’s music became more than just background noise. It became a balm, a mirror, a whispered acknowledgment that I was not alone in my unraveling. Her songs have a way of excavating emotion with a surgeon’s precision, drawing light from the most obscure corners of the human psyche. Three, in particular, Wildflower, lovely (with Khalid), and Your Power, are etched into the architecture of my emotional survival. Each became a requiem for a different stage of my depression—distinct in their grief, yet harmonious in healing. Wildflower arrived during a chapter of quiet desolation. The world around me demanded vibrancy, but I felt muted, like color drained from canvas. The song’s gentle cadence and metaphorical lyricism became a refuge—a place where I could exist as fragile and flawed, yet still deserving of beauty. It spoke to the alienation of blooming in inhospitable terrain. I, too, felt misplaced—trying to grow where the soil was unforgiving. Yet in that song, I found a quiet defiance. The wildflower persists not because the world welcomes it, but because it must. And so, I did. lovely is the sound of sorrow suspended in air. A haunting duet that articulates the inertia of emotional paralysis. When I first heard it, I was enveloped in an isolating fog, unable to articulate the weight I carried. The line, “When in love, let the heart made of glass, my mind of stone,” rooted itself within me. I’ve always felt that my heart is fragile, transparent, tender, easily shattered. I’m a people pleaser by nature, someone who wears my glass heart on my sleeve, offering it freely even when it trembles. But my mind; resolute and unyielding. Builds a fortress of stone around that heart, not to conceal it, but to protect it. That duality defines me: soft yet guarded, longing yet reluctant. lovely gave voice to this paradox. It reminded me that shared pain is not weakness but a testament to our ability to feel deeply. Even if we’re scared to show it. And then, Your Power. A quiet indictment veiled in soft acoustics, yet razor-sharp in its critique of exploitation and emotional manipulation. It unspooled the tangled threads of my own experiences—moments where I relinquished my agency in pursuit of validation, where power was used not to uplift but to diminish. Billie’s restrained delivery underscored the magnitude of harm that hides in subtlety. Listening to it was an act of catharsis; a painful, necessary confrontation. It helped me understand that reclaiming my voice was not an act of rebellion, but of reclamation. I was no longer obligated to bear the weight of someone else’s misuse of authority. Together, these songs compose the soundtrack of my most silent battles. They are not just melodies but emotional cartographies, charting the terrain of despair, healing, and eventual hope. Billie Eilish does not romanticize pain, she reveals it, tenderly and unapologetically. Her music gave eloquence to my internal disarray, crafting poetry from pain and allowing me to stand beside it, not beneath it. Now, as I continue my journey—both academically and personally—I carry with me the emotional vocabulary these songs taught me. I want to create spaces where others feel heard, understood, and held the way Billie’s music held me. These songs didn’t rescue me from the darkness, but they lit the lantern I used to find my way through it. And that illumination, fragile yet fierce, is something I will carry with me always.

There was never a single moment where I figured out who I was. It happened gradually—through quiet realizations, hard conversations, and growing confidence in my identity. By high school, I embraced being a bisexual Black woman. Even when I didn’t have all the language, I knew I didn’t want to hide. I was proud of who I was, even when the world didn’t always know how to handle it. But one of the hardest parts about being bisexual was not knowing exactly where I fit in. I wasn’t “straight passing,” but I also didn’t give off the kind of “bisexual vibes” people expected. I felt stuck between worlds, like I had to constantly explain or justify my identity. That in-between space made me feel invisible at times, even in LGBTQ+ circles. It took me years to stop worrying about how others saw me and start focusing on how I saw myself. At the same time, I was struggling with something less visible. I had been dealing with depression since sixth grade, though I didn’t start medication until I was 20. For years, I kept everything bottled up, believing that maybe I just needed to “toughen up.” In my family and community, mental health wasn’t something we talked about openly. I already felt like I was stepping outside expectations just by being out, and bringing up my mental health felt like too much. By the time I started college, it all caught up to me. My freshman year was the lowest point of my life. I stopped going to class, I wasn’t eating, and I isolated myself completely. Life felt overwhelming, exhausting, and painful. I wanted everything to stop. I was losing my connection to my friends, my drive, and myself. Eventually, I reached out for help. I started therapy, got on medication, and began trying again. It was slow and messy, but little by little, I started to find myself. I changed my major to marketing and added a minor in event management. I joined the archery club and later became its marketing officer. These small steps helped me reconnect with who I was and who I wanted to become. The most transformative part of my healing was finding my LGBTQ+ community on campus. I made incredible friends—people who didn’t just accept me but celebrated every part of who I am. They made space for my voice, my emotions, and my story. Through them, I found my confidence and my purpose. I became someone who speaks openly, advocates fiercely, and stands up for others who feel unseen. Now I’m proud to say I’m not afraid to talk about who I am or who I love. I advocate for LGBTQ+ students and anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. I know what it feels like to hide, and I know how powerful it is to be seen and supported. That’s something I want to help others experience. My dream is to start an inclusive event planning business focused on making joyful, meaningful moments accessible to everyone. I want to create beautiful celebrations for queer folks, people of color, and families from underrepresented communities. I used to feel like I had to shrink parts of myself to fit in. Now I know that being fully myself is my greatest strength—and I want to help others feel that too.

I’ve dealt with depression since I was in sixth grade, but I didn’t get any kind of help until I was 20 years old. That’s a long time to carry something heavy and invisible. I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling, and even if I did, I didn’t feel like I had the space to talk about it. Being a Black woman, it’s hard to be open about mental health. In my family and community, there’s so much stigma around it. You’re expected to push through, be strong, and keep things to yourself. So I did. By the time I got to college, everything I had been pushing down for years finally caught up with me. Freshman year was the hardest time of my life. I stopped going to class. I didn’t turn in my work. I didn’t eat. I didn’t talk to anyone. I would lie in bed for hours, doing nothing but spiraling deeper into my thoughts. I wanted everything to stop—everything felt loud, painful, and crushing. I was losing my friends, losing myself, and honestly, losing the will to keep trying. It took hitting that point for me to finally ask for help. I saw a doctor and started medication, and that was the moment things began to shift. It wasn’t instant. I still had bad days. But it gave me the chance to breathe again and slowly crawl out of the place I was stuck in. Sophomore year, I made a decision to try. I switched my major to marketing and added a minor in event management. It was the first time I felt excited about school. I started showing up again—not just in class, but in life. I joined the archery club and eventually became the marketing officer. I started doing better in school, connecting with people again, and feeling like myself. Not the old me, but a stronger version. Someone I was proud of becoming. My experience with mental health changed everything for me. I’m more patient now, more aware of how others are feeling, and more open to listening. I don’t assume people are okay just because they look like it. And I don’t hide what I’ve been through either, because being quiet for so long didn’t help me—and I know others feel the same way I once did. It also gave me direction. My dream now is to start my own event planning business. I want to create moments that bring people together, that make them feel seen and celebrated—especially for people from underrepresented or lower-income communities. Growing up, I know how hard it can be to afford things like birthday parties, graduations, or weddings. But those moments matter, and everyone deserves to feel special. I’m still learning and still healing, but I’m not in that dark place anymore. I’ve proven to myself that I can survive the worst parts of life and still come out with hope. That’s something no one can take from me. And now, I just want to use what I’ve learned to help others feel less alone.

My greatest achievement isn’t something flashy. It’s not an award, a certificate, or even a perfect GPA. My greatest achievement is staying in college when, during my freshman year, I came dangerously close to giving up altogether. That year, I hit a low point I never expected. I struggled with severe depression, something I had no idea how to handle. I stopped going to classes, didn’t turn in assignments, didn’t go to work, and barely ate. My world felt heavy, and everything I once looked forward to lost its color. I wasn’t just falling behind academically; I was losing myself completely. It affected my relationships, my motivation, and the person I thought I was becoming. Eventually, I realized I needed help. I got connected with a doctor and was put on medication to manage my depression. That became a turning point. It didn’t magically fix everything, but it gave me the room to start showing up for myself again. I failed most of my classes that year, and that was hard to accept. But I didn’t let it define me. I saw it as a place to begin again. In my sophomore year, I promised myself I would try. Really try. I changed my major to marketing and added a minor in event management. For the first time, I was excited about what I was learning. I found a field that actually felt like me. I started connecting with people again, joined the archery club, and eventually became its marketing officer. I was rebuilding, and this time, it felt real. Now I’m in my final year. Looking back, I don’t see that first year as a failure anymore. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, but it taught me so much. I learned that resilience isn’t always about big, bold moments. Sometimes it’s about getting out of bed, replying to one email, or pushing yourself to show up even when you don’t feel like it. Those small steps, stacked on top of each other, helped me move forward. That experience also taught me something I’ll carry with me forever: it’s okay to be at your lowest, as long as you keep trying to climb up. There were so many times I wanted to quit. But I didn’t. Even when it felt like everything was falling apart, I kept going. And in doing that, I discovered how strong I really am. I also learned that I’m not alone. I have people who believe in me, who lift me up when I can’t lift myself, and knowing that has made all the difference. In the future, I want to start my own event planning business focused on creating joyful, meaningful moments. I want to help people from all backgrounds, especially those from under-resourced communities, celebrate milestones they may not have thought possible. Weddings, graduations, community events—those are the memories that stick, and I want to make them feel special for everyone, no matter their budget. This journey taught me that success doesn’t need to look perfect. It just needs to be true. And the fact that I’m still here, growing and reaching for my goals, is something I’ll always be proud of.

I come from a family full of love, but not resources. Growing up, we faced financial instability that often made the future feel uncertain. At one point, we had to leave our house and live with family until we could regain stability. Even then, my parents always made sure we felt supported, even if they couldn’t always offer guidance on things like college or career paths. I’m a first-generation college student majoring in marketing with a minor in event management, and my biggest dream is to own my own event planning business. I want to create joyful, meaningful experiences for others—especially for those who may not have the means to celebrate life’s biggest milestones. Weddings, graduations, community events—I want everyone to feel seen and celebrated, regardless of their financial situation. To get here, I’ve had to work hard. Researching everything from majors to financial aid by myself, applying to scholarships constantly, balancing school with work, and building a life I’m proud of, piece by piece. I’m also the marketing officer for my university’s archery club, where I’ve grown my leadership skills and built a close-knit community. This scholarship would help lighten the financial load and allow me to invest more time in building the future I dream of. One where I use my talents to uplift others. I don’t just want a degree; I want to make a difference. And this support would bring me one step closer to doing just that. It’s not only for me, but for the people and communities I plan to serve.

Growing up, the idea of college always felt important, but distant. As a first-generation college student, I didn’t have a clear example to follow or anyone at home who could walk me through the process. My parents worked hard to give my siblings and me a better life, but when it came to higher education, I had to figure it out on my own. That independence became one of my greatest strengths. I chose to pursue higher education not just for myself, but for my family. This journey is about more than personal success—it’s about honoring the sacrifices my parents made and reaching for the dreams they once had but had to set aside. I want to achieve the things they never thought they could and fulfill the hopes they’ve always had for me. Every step I take in college is a step forward for all of us. To prepare for college, I spent countless hours researching. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going in blind, so I dove into information about majors, universities, graduate schools, and career paths tied to the fields I was interested in. That research helped me better understand what I wanted and gave me the tools to plan ahead, even without a roadmap. Financially, I knew things would be tight. Budgeting wasn’t something I had mastered yet, but I worked hard to find ways to make college possible. I applied for as many scholarships as I could, pushed myself to earn strong grades in high school, and worked as much as my schedule allowed. I didn’t have all the answers, but I was determined to do everything I could to make this dream real. Being the first in my family to attend college means stepping into unfamiliar territory and learning as I go. It means facing moments of doubt, figuring things out on my own, and still choosing to keep moving forward. It’s not always easy, but I remind myself that I’m not doing this alone—I carry my family’s hopes and dreams with me. Higher education represents more than a degree. It’s a promise to myself and to those who raised me. As a marketing major with a minor in event management, I plan to use my education to create joyful, meaningful experiences for others. My ultimate goal is to open my own event planning business—one that helps people celebrate milestones regardless of their financial situation. I want to build something rooted in connection, creativity, and care. And with each step forward, I know I’m getting closer to turning that dream into reality.

Being the first in my family to earn a college degree is a deeply emotional and empowering journey. My parents both attended college but didn’t have the opportunity to finish due to life circumstances and financial challenges. Growing up, my family faced struggles that made higher education feel out of reach. We didn’t always have the resources or guidance that many others had, so even understanding how to apply for college or navigate financial aid was a major learning curve. Despite these challenges, I pushed forward, knowing that obtaining a college degree could be life-changing—not only for me but for my family and future generations. This path means breaking generational barriers, rewriting expectations, and showing my younger relatives that they, too, can chase their dreams, no matter how big they seem. I’m proud to carry this responsibility, and while it hasn’t always been easy, it’s helped shape me into someone who is determined, compassionate, and fiercely driven. The younger ones in my family are going down a darker path. Some of them are getting into fights, failing classes, and just overall not doing great. I am trying my best to support and encourage them. While the older ones in my family are criticizing them and saying they will never achieve anything, I am telling them that they can own up to their mistakes. That they can go on a better path, and be the person I believe they can be, even if they think It's impossible. After struggling during my freshman year as a zoology and pre-vet major, I realized I was on the wrong path. I wasn’t failing because I wasn’t smart—I was failing because I was forcing myself into a mold that didn’t fit me. Through time, reflection, and healing, I discovered my true passion: marketing and event management. I made the decision to change my major to marketing with a minor in event management, and I haven’t looked back since. What I love most about this field is how it blends creativity, planning, and human connection. I’ve always been someone who finds joy in organizing events, creating meaningful experiences, and seeing others light up when things come together. Whether I’m helping plan a club gathering or brainstorming ideas for a friend’s business, I feel fulfilled knowing I’m making an impact. My long-term goal is to own my own event planning business. I want to focus on company and community events, as well as weddings and graduation celebrations—especially for individuals and families from under-resourced backgrounds. I know what it’s like to grow up without much, and I want to create joyful, inclusive spaces where people can celebrate milestones they’ve worked hard to reach. Education has given me the tools to not only dream but also act. And with everything I’ve learned and experienced, I plan to give back, uplift others, and leave behind a legacy of kindness, creativity, and celebration.

Education has always meant more to me than grades or a diploma—it represents possibility, empowerment, and the chance to create a future different from the one I was born into. As a first-generation college student, I’ve experienced firsthand how difficult it is to navigate higher education without a roadmap. My parents both attended college but never graduated, and growing up, our family faced significant financial challenges. We didn’t always have the resources or support systems that others seemed to take for granted. For me, getting into college wasn’t just a milestone—it was a breakthrough. Education is important to me because it opened the door to self-discovery. I came into college as a zoology major on the pre-vet track, convinced that I wanted to become a veterinarian. But during my freshman year, I hit a wall. I was failing most of my classes and battling severe depression. I shut down, withdrew from my classes, and felt like I was spiraling. Eventually, with support, therapy, and the right medication, I was able to begin healing. In that process, I realized that I had been chasing a dream that didn’t truly reflect who I was or what I was passionate about. Switching my major to marketing with a minor in event management changed everything. I found myself thriving in spaces that encouraged creativity, collaboration, and human connection. I discovered a deep passion for planning, organizing, and making others feel seen and celebrated. I also found strength in my lived experiences—both the highs and the lows—which shaped my values and gave me a greater sense of empathy and purpose. Now, education is not just about my personal success; it’s about helping others. I want to take what I’ve learned and use it to create opportunities for people who’ve felt overlooked or underserved. My ultimate goal is to own an event planning business that specializes in company events, community gatherings, and milestone celebrations like weddings and graduations—especially for individuals and families from low-income or first-generation backgrounds. I know how meaningful it is to be celebrated, and I want to give that joy to others who may not otherwise have the chance. The legacy I hope to leave is one of inclusion, compassion, and joy. I want to show that success doesn’t have to follow a traditional path, and that failure is not the opposite of growth—it’s a part of it. I want to be someone who didn’t just survive their circumstances but turned them into something beautiful and impactful. Whether it’s through helping a family plan an unforgettable graduation party or mentoring another first-generation student trying to find their way, I hope to leave behind a legacy rooted in empowerment and love. In the end, education gave me the tools to rebuild myself and dream bigger. It gave me the confidence to believe that I could shape my own future—and maybe, just maybe, help others shape theirs too.

From Setback to Purpose: How My Greatest Failure Led Me to My True Calling My most significant failure happened during my freshman year of college. At the time, I was majoring in zoology and pursuing a pre-vet track, a path I had chosen out of admiration for animals and the idea of helping them. However, reality hit hard. I struggled immensely with the STEM-heavy coursework—no matter how hard I tried, my brain just couldn’t keep up. On top of that, I was battling clinical depression, which intensified the pressure I felt and left me feeling completely defeated. As the semester went on, I began shutting down. I stopped attending classes and lost interest in everything I once enjoyed. I was a shell of who I used to be, and for a while, I felt hopeless. Eventually, I got the help I needed—therapy, support from loved ones, and the right medications. Slowly but surely, I began to feel like myself again. During this healing process, I realized that my struggle wasn’t just about failing classes—it was about being in the wrong place. I was trying to force myself into a path that didn’t align with my strengths or passions. That realization led me to explore different fields, and I found myself drawn to marketing and event management. I loved the creativity, strategy, and people-centered nature of both areas. Planning, organizing, and helping others create memorable experiences brought me joy in a way science courses never had. Changing my major was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Not only did my academic performance improve, but I also found a purpose that felt true to who I am. That failure—painful as it was—sparked a chain reaction of growth, self-discovery, and determination. It taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of aligning my goals with my authentic self. Now, as a marketing major with a minor in event management, I’m passionate about helping others—especially those from under-resourced backgrounds like my own—celebrate their milestones and create moments of happiness. My ultimate goal is to own an event planning business that makes celebrations accessible and meaningful for everyone, regardless of their financial situation. That freshman-year failure was not the end of my story—it was the beginning of the right one.

Choosing a career in event management has become a personal mission for me, especially as a first-generation college student. Growing up, I watched many families, including my own, struggle financially, and I realized how hard it can be to celebrate life's important milestones, whether it’s a birthday, wedding, or graduation. These milestones should be celebrated, but for many, the cost of organizing such events can be a significant barrier. That’s why I want to pursue a career in event management — to help people, especially those with limited financial resources, celebrate these significant life moments. My goal is to make event planning accessible and affordable for individuals and families who may not have the funds to hire event planners. I want to help people plan memorable events, both for higher education and high school, ensuring they can still celebrate their achievements without financial stress. I believe that everyone deserves the chance to commemorate significant moments in their lives, and I want to make that possible by providing affordable options. As a first-generation college student, I understand the challenges of pursuing higher education, especially when financial resources are limited. That’s why helping people celebrate milestones, such as graduations, holds particular significance for me. I want to be there for families and individuals who are overcoming financial struggles to achieve their goals, and help them mark those achievements with a celebration they deserve. Whether it’s for a first-generation college graduate or a high school senior, I want to make their graduation day as special as it can be. In pursuing a degree in event management, I’m not just aiming to start a career; I want to make a difference in the lives of others. My experiences and the challenges I’ve faced as a first-generation college student have shaped my determination to help others in similar situations. By offering affordable event planning services, I hope to create meaningful celebrations for those who might otherwise feel excluded from professional event planning because of financial constraints. This career path allows me to combine my passion for creativity, organization, and helping others, all while giving people the opportunity to celebrate life’s milestones in a way that feels both personal and significant. I’m excited to continue my education and work towards building a business that serves not just as an event planning company, but as a resource for those who want to celebrate life’s achievements.

My passion for event planning and marketing has always been rooted in my love for creating meaningful experiences and bringing people together. Growing up, I enjoyed organizing everything from small birthday parties to family gatherings, and over time, this evolved into a career aspiration. I recognized the power of events in shaping unforgettable memories, and realized that event planning was the right path for me. Along the way, I discovered my interest in marketing, which added another dimension to my goals. Event planning excites me because it allows me to help people celebrate milestones in their lives. Whether it’s a corporate event, wedding, or community gathering, events should be memorable and meaningful. I’ve come to realize that the beauty of an event isn’t just in its execution, but in the lasting impact it has on people. When someone attends an event, they should walk away feeling like they were part of something special. This is what motivates me to become an event planner. I want to create those moments of joy and connection that people will cherish. While event planning is my focus, my interest in marketing complements this passion. I first became interested in marketing when I helped one of my online friends with social media marketing for his streaming channels and business plans. I saw how marketing could engage an audience, build excitement, and ensure an event reaches its target audience. This sparked my desire to understand how marketing strategies can amplify an event’s success. Combining event planning with marketing seemed like the perfect blend of creativity and strategic thinking. Getting a degree in event planning and marketing will significantly impact my life by equipping me with the skills needed to plan and execute successful events. The degree will provide me with a deeper understanding of logistics, budgeting, vendor coordination, and scheduling. I’ll also learn the financial and organizational aspects of the industry, essential for running a business. With expertise in both event planning and marketing, I’ll be able to offer creative solutions to clients and ensure their events are memorable and successful. This degree will also help me achieve my ultimate goal of starting my own event planning business. I want to create a business that makes event planning affordable and accessible, especially for people with smaller budgets. Many people dream of having a beautiful, well-organized event, but are discouraged by the cost. I want to offer affordable, customized services that make it possible for anyone to host their dream event. Whether it’s a corporate retreat, wedding, or community gathering, I want to help people create unforgettable experiences within their means. Additionally, this degree will provide the confidence and tools to start my business. I’ll learn how to market my services, build client relationships, and navigate challenges in the industry. Networking with professors, professionals, and peers will be invaluable, allowing me to collaborate and gain insights into industry trends. Ultimately, obtaining a degree in event planning and marketing will help me turn my dream of owning an event planning business into reality. This education will empower me to create affordable, memorable events that bring people together, foster connections, and leave lasting impressions. By combining my passion for event planning with marketing skills, I hope to make a positive impact on my community, helping others achieve their dream events without the financial burden.

Mental health is incredibly important to me as a student because I have personally experienced the struggles that come with it. I was diagnosed with clinical depression, and it drastically affected my ability to function in daily life, particularly in school. Before receiving my diagnosis and starting medication, I found it incredibly difficult to get through even the simplest tasks. I was failing classes, not wanting to go to work or school, and often struggled to even get out of bed to clean or care for myself. It felt like I was in a constant fog, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break through it. This took a heavy toll on my relationships, especially with my roommate, who I could tell was affected by my inability to engage or communicate. Eventually, I had to make the tough decision to change my major and retake several classes. I felt like I had reached a point where I just wanted to give up, and it seemed like no matter how hard I worked, I wasn’t going to make it. At that time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me or why I was feeling the way I was. After receiving my diagnosis and starting medication, things slowly began to improve. I noticed an increase in my productivity and a willingness to engage in activities I had once enjoyed. I used to love painting, reading, and playing games, but when my depression worsened, I lost interest in these activities. It was like a part of me had shut off. Once I started my treatment, I felt like I was rediscovering the things I loved, and my passion for life started to return. This was a turning point for me, and I finally understood the importance of mental health diagnoses. Many people go years or even their entire lives without understanding or getting the help they need, and I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. Having a diagnosis meant that I could finally understand what was going on, and that alone gave me hope. I began to advocate for mental health more actively, using my experience to help others who might be feeling the same way I once did. I joined online forums and support groups, where I could listen to people, share my story, and offer advice. I also started reposting mental health awareness posts on social media to raise awareness and reduce the stigma surrounding mental health struggles. In my community, I make it my mission to listen to others and offer support whenever I can. I know what it feels like to struggle in silence, and I don’t want anyone to feel like they are alone in their experiences. Whether it’s a friend, family member, or even a stranger online, I try to provide a safe space for people to share their feelings without judgment. I understand how important it is to feel heard and validated, and I strive to offer advice, encouragement, or simply a listening ear. Being an advocate for mental health is not just about sharing resources or talking about the importance of seeking help—it’s about being present for others. I know that even the smallest act of support can make a huge difference in someone’s life, and I want to continue doing everything I can to help others feel understood and supported. Mental health matters, and I believe that by sharing our stories and supporting each other, we can make a positive impact in our communities.

During my sophomore year of college, I decided to take a sculpting class just for fun. It was my first formal art class, and I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was always a creative person at heart. I was immediately captivated by the process of shaping clay, making molds with plaster, and experimenting with different materials. Although I didn’t have a clear direction at first, the class set me on a creative path that I wanted to explore more deeply. I quickly realized that sculpting was a wonderful outlet for expressing my creativity. As the class progressed, I began experimenting with different mediums. I started with beads and wire, making small animals. While I enjoyed this, I quickly realized that it was very time-consuming. I wanted something more challenging, so I began working with cardboard and papier-mâché. The idea of transforming everyday materials into intricate sculptures fascinated me, and I realized how much potential these materials had for creating something dynamic and visually interesting. The process of shaping and building depth in my pieces became an captivating, and I found myself increasingly passionate about working with these materials. One of my favorite projects during this time was inspired by the marine ecosystem. I created a turtle out of cardboard and papier-mâché, but what made it unique was the ecosystem I built on its back. I added marine plants, fake moss, and other elements to create a miniature world that seemed to belong to the turtle. This project was one of my first experiences building layers and thinking about art as something that goes beyond the visual to represent a deeper meaning. The idea of creating life through these layers sparked a deeper passion for sculpting, and I loved the challenge of using simple materials to create something detailed. The sculpting class became such an important part of my college experience that I decided to take it again the following semester. By this time, I had grown more comfortable with the techniques I was using, so I focused more on creating animal sculptures for my final project. I wanted to push my creative boundaries and reflect my love for marine life. I created three hanging whales, each in a different position, suspended in midair. I wanted to capture their power and grace while adding a sense of movement. Each whale was crafted using leftover beads from my first semester, which created a sense of uniformity and connected the two projects. To complete the full circle of my sculpting journey, I decided to include the turtle from my first semester alongside the whales in my final project. Placing the turtle with the whales symbolized my growth as an artist. The project came to represent how far I had come since that first sculpting class, and how my approach to materials, texture, and form had evolved. The process of working on the whales and the turtle allowed me to push my creativity and technical skills. The beads added texture, while the cardboard and papier-mâché gave the sculptures structure and life. The final piece felt like a culmination of my entire artistic journey during college. Even though I’m not pursuing art as a career, these sculpting projects helped me discover a side of myself that I hadn’t fully explored before. The class gave me the opportunity to experiment with new techniques and mediums and inspired me to continue creating independently. My love for crafting and sculpting remains a personal outlet that I continue to nurture. It’s a creative expression that I will always hold dear and continue to explore.

From the books I’ve read, I’ve learned many valuable lessons, but perhaps the most important are the concepts of love and respect. These themes have shaped my personal growth and influenced my goals. Whether it’s self-love, platonic love, or romantic love that transcends societal norms and barriers, these books have highlighted how love shapes identity, growth, and relationships. Alongside love, I’ve learned that while respect is something everyone deserves, it must also be earned through action, character, and the way we treat others. One book that stands out is The Poppy War series. The story doesn’t focus on traditional romance, but instead explores a character fighting for what she believes is right, only to realize everything she thought was true is flawed. This character undergoes a painful transformation, ultimately learning to love herself and her country again. This theme of evolving beliefs and finding respect for oneself has shaped my understanding of personal growth. The struggle of reconciling internal conflict with the larger world is something I aim to explore in my own life, particularly in my future career. I want to help others see that growth and change are possible, even after realizing that what we once held dear may need to be redefined. Another impactful book is They Both Die at the End, which tells the story of two strangers fated to die on the same day. The characters form a bond that blooms into an LGBTQ+ relationship, transcending societal norms and laws. Their love story taught me the power of human connection, even in heartbreaking circumstances. It showed me how love has the ability to break down barriers. This has influenced my goal of pursuing a career where I can create inclusive spaces where love and relationships are celebrated without judgment. In Fourth Wing, the protagonist, Violet, embarks on a journey of self-discovery and empowerment. She transcends the expectations placed on her, proving to herself and the world that she is capable of far more than anyone imagined. As Violet learns to love herself and embrace her strength, she also learns to form a bond with someone she initially sees as an enemy, sharing a powerful connection through their dragons. This theme of overcoming doubt and embracing personal growth has motivated me to challenge limiting beliefs and pursue my dreams with confidence. It reminds me that the road to success is rarely straightforward, but through self-love, respect for others, and open-mindedness, we can achieve what we set out to do. All these books, in different ways, have shaped how I view the world and how I plan to approach my future. They’ve taught me that true strength comes from learning to love and respect myself, accepting change, and forming genuine connections. I want to take these lessons into my future career and personal life, whether helping people plan significant life events or leading teams to success. Just as the characters in these stories grow and transform, I hope to create opportunities for others to grow through the work I do, fostering environments where love, respect, and inclusivity are at the forefront.

Hospitality, to me, is far more than just providing a service — it’s about forming authentic, meaningful connections with people. Whether it's hosting an event, planning a wedding, or organizing a community gathering, creating genuine relationships is what makes the experience special. When we focus on the human aspect of hospitality and view each person as more than just a “customer” or “guest,” we create experiences that are not only memorable but impactful. Too often, especially in the service and event industries, people are treated as transactions. The focus can sometimes be on deadlines, budgets, or checklists, but I believe the true value of hospitality lies in the connections we build. When people feel valued and understood, rather than just another item on a to-do list, the entire experience shifts. They become part of something meaningful. The goal is to create a space where people feel seen, heard, and appreciated. This is the most important part of working in hospitality. For example, during events I’ve been involved in — whether it’s a small dinner with friends or a large gathering — I’ve learned that the small personal touches truly make a difference. The way you greet someone, the care you put into planning their experience, or the attention you give to their needs can have a profound impact. By taking the time to connect with people and understand what makes them happy, we can transform an event from a simple gathering into a memorable experience. This connection is especially crucial in events like weddings or community gatherings. These are milestones in people’s lives, not just parties or celebrations. I see these events as opportunities to bring people closer together, creating bonds and fostering a sense of belonging. The connections formed at these events — whether between family members, colleagues, or community members — are often more valuable than the event itself. When people leave feeling like they’ve been part of something real, they remember that experience fondly and cherish the relationships that were nurtured. In my future as an event planner and business owner, my aim is to focus on creating those connections. I don’t want clients or guests to feel like they are just part of a transaction, where their needs are “met.” Instead, I want them to feel like they are part of something bigger — something that touches their hearts and makes them feel important. I want to ensure that every person at every event walks away feeling like they matter and their presence was valued. This human connection is what makes hospitality powerful and transformative. I believe that when we stop thinking of people as transactions, we create spaces where people feel comfortable and cared for. This has the potential to leave a lasting impact on individuals and the community. It’s about creating an environment where people feel they belong, and that’s the kind of hospitality I aim to bring into the world.

From a young age, I've always had a deep love for planning — especially when it comes to making others happy. Whether it was organizing birthday parties for friends and family, coordinating small gatherings, or hosting themed parties with my friends, I’ve always found joy in the process of creating experiences that bring people together. I remember the excitement I felt when I successfully pulled off a surprise birthday party, or the pride I took in picking out just the right theme and decorations to make everything feel special. Seeing the smiles on people's faces when everything came together was incredibly fulfilling and cemented my love for planning events. As I grew older, my passion for event planning only deepened. I took on larger projects, like coordinating events for clubs I was a part of and helping organize social gatherings. It was in those moments, whether planning a small intimate dinner or a bigger campus event, that I realized just how much I love bringing people together to create memories. Each event taught me something new — about organizing, problem-solving, and adapting when things didn’t go as planned. I loved that feeling of everything falling into place, knowing I had played a part in making someone's day or experience memorable. For me, event planning is more than just a job — it’s about making people feel special, heard, and valued. I truly believe that a well-planned event can leave a lasting impact, whether it’s a wedding, a corporate event, or a community gathering. It’s about creating spaces where people can connect, celebrate, and feel a sense of belonging. That’s why my dream is to one day open my own event planning business. I want to focus on company and community events, as well as weddings. I want to help organizations come together to build meaningful connections, whether it’s a retreat for a team or a fundraising event for a cause. I also want to help couples celebrate their love, turning their dreams into reality by creating weddings that reflect their unique stories. Weddings, especially, are such powerful events — they mark a life-changing moment, and I want to be part of that experience, helping couples feel seen and celebrated in every way possible. I know the road to owning my own business will come with challenges, but I’m excited to take on the journey. It’s not just about executing a perfect event, but about creating moments that people will cherish for years to come. Through every event I’ve planned, I’ve learned that it’s not just about the decorations or the logistics, but about the emotion and connection that comes with it. The work I do as an event planner will always be rooted in helping people experience happiness and joy. I’m eager to keep growing in this field, learning from those who have come before me, and sharing my love for planning with others. Whether it's a corporate retreat or a wedding, I want to create experiences that leave people feeling inspired, connected, and happy. My hope is that, one day, my event planning business will be known not only for its creativity and attention to detail but also for the meaningful connections it fosters and the lasting memories it helps create.

As a Black, neurodivergent, and bisexual woman, I often joke that I should “pick a struggle,” but the reality is that my identity and circumstances have shaped my educational journey in profound ways. Coming from a family where higher education was not the norm, I was frequently told that college wasn’t necessary. “Just find a nice office job,” they said, or “Get a job that pays well straight out of high school.” These sentiments weren’t born out of a lack of ambition but rather financial constraints. My family simply didn’t have the funds to support a college education, so the idea of taking on debt seemed reckless. Despite this, I chose to go anyway. I knew that higher education would open doors that otherwise remained closed. However, the road has been anything but easy. Financial insecurity has been a constant challenge—finding scholarships, minimizing loans, and securing basic necessities like food have all been ongoing struggles. At times, I’ve worried about whether I could afford to stay in school. My father, a 100% disabled veteran, has been a crucial source of support, and qualifying for EBT has helped me ensure I have enough to eat. But the stress of financial instability still lingers, affecting my ability to focus solely on academics. Even with these challenges, I remain committed to my education because I know what’s at stake. My goal is to graduate and secure a job in event planning, with a focus on marketing. I want to build a career that allows me to combine creativity, organization, and strategy—skills that I’ve honed despite the obstacles I’ve faced. Eventually, I dream of opening my own event planning business, specializing in weddings. This goal is more than just a career aspiration; it represents financial independence, stability, and the ability to create a life that wasn’t always an option for my family. Attending college is not just about earning a degree—it’s about breaking cycles. It’s about proving to myself and my family that education is a pathway to opportunities we never imagined. It’s about showing that despite the systemic and personal barriers I’ve faced, I am capable of achieving success on my own terms. This scholarship would help alleviate some of the financial burdens that have made my journey so difficult, allowing me to focus on my studies and future career without the constant worry of how I will afford to stay in school. I am committed to moving forward, not only for myself but also for the younger members of my family who need to see that success through education is possible. College is my stepping stone to a future where I am in control of my own success, and I will not let financial hardship keep me, or younger generations from reaching their goals.

I am a rising senior pursuing a degree in Marketing and Event Management, and as I approach the final stretch of my undergraduate journey, I reflect on the challenges and aspirations that have shaped me. Coming from a low-income background, financial hurdles have been a constant part of my academic experience. This scholarship would be life-changing for me, as it would ease the burden of my last year, allowing me to focus on my studies and take the final step toward achieving my dreams. From a young age, I have been drawn to the world of events and marketing. There is something special about creating memorable experiences and bringing people together through thoughtful planning and strategy. My long-term goal is to work at an event company where I can contribute both my marketing expertise and event planning skills. Eventually, I aspire to open my own event business, a dream that has fueled my passion and determination throughout college. However, I understand that life does not always go according to plan. If my current career aspirations do not unfold as expected, I am open to exploring other paths. No matter where life takes me, I never want to give up on my ambitions. My college journey has not only been about academics and career preparation—it has also been about personal growth. One of the most defining moments in my emotional development occurred during my freshman year. It was December, and by that time, my roommate and I had grown close. Despite our friendship, I have always been someone who struggles with expressing negative emotions in front of others. That changed when I received a heartbreaking phone call from my sister. She told me that my pet parakeet, Milky, had passed away. Milky had been a part of my life for years, and losing him while being away at college made the pain even harder to bear. I was devastated but did not allow myself to fully process my emotions. I had responsibilities, assignments, and obligations, and I convinced myself that breaking down could wait. I buried my grief, forcing myself to carry on with my day. But when my roommate returned to our dorm, she immediately sensed that something was wrong. She asked if I was okay, and in that moment, all the emotions I had been suppressing came rushing to the surface. I broke down and cried in front of her, something I rarely did with anyone. Instead of judgment, she offered comfort and support, showing me that it was okay to be vulnerable. That experience changed my perspective on emotional strength. I had always believed that showing emotions, especially sadness, was a sign of weakness. However, I learned that expressing my feelings does not make me weak—it makes me human. Since that moment, I have allowed myself to be more open with my emotions, understanding that vulnerability is a part of growth. That lesson has helped me navigate other challenges in my academic and personal life, reminding me that seeking support is not a failure but a strength. This scholarship would not only provide financial relief but also affirm that my hard work and perseverance are paying off. As I prepare to enter my final year, I want to continue striving toward my goals, learning from my experiences, and growing into a professional who can make a meaningful impact in the event industry. I hope to one day create experiences that bring joy to others, just as moments of kindness and understanding have brought comfort to me.

My family was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska. I always heard stories of how hard it was for them growing up, because they were colored people in a predominately white state. I was born and raised in Washington, but I know that my family misses their home, even if it was hard for them. They would tell stories about their high schools, about all their family that lived on the same street, how the hey would have adventures with their neighbors, and how everything seemed so much simpler to them because they were seeing the world through the eyes of their younger selves. They came to Washington to have a better life. Only one woman in my closet family circle has graduated college. My Aunt. She graduated college at 53. My mom went to college, but she had to stop because she was pregnant with my eldest brother. My other aunts did not go to college at all, and neither did their mom. The women in my family had to face hardships and adversity, and even without a college background, they managed to become successful. They tried their hardest to preach and advocate to myself, my siblings, and my cousins, about how important it is to get a college education now, and how privileged we are to be able to get the opportunity to go to college in the first place. They are my biggest reason why I haven’t given up in my education. Higher education has always been hard to achieve for women of color historically because of their skin color, the stigmatism that they are dumb, that they have a lot of kids, and that they cannot accomplish the same things as a white woman. Now, college is a lot more accessible and favorable to people of color, and there are so many organizations and groups who advocate for the importance of education in people of color. I am grateful that I was born and raised in a generation that advocates and fights for our rights. I’m glad I was born into a family who only wants what’s best, who try their hardest to get us to achieve our goals even if it is expensive, and who has a village to back them up. Without my family, I would not be the person I am today, and I am forever grateful for them. Since I grew up in a family to very heavily advocates for higher education, I do the same. With all the new people I meet, the friends I make, and even my younger family members who do not care about school at all, I try my best to preach to them. Education shouldn’t be taken lightly. It is great that these current generations, and even my generation (Gen Z) have the ability to get money to go to school like scholarships, grants and loans. These resources make higher education so much possible, and I am grateful for those who taught me that. They have help me never give up even when I really wanted to, and I can now help others at my college as well.

Someone once told me that life will never always go my way, but I can pave my way through the critics and the ones who are pitted against me, to create my own road that will help me in the future. I did not understand what the meant until I got to college. In elementary school, I was honestly not that smart. I was not one of the kids in the advanced classes, and it seemed like I took longer than my other peers to finish any type of assignment or quiz. This discouraged me, but I did not give up. In middle school, I was a bit better. I excelled in most of my classes, but I was still behind in the eyes of my peers, and the education system. In my first year of high school, I got a 4.0 GPA. I was ecstatic. This is what I wanted my whole life, and I finally achieved it, that should be enough right? Reality check: it wasn’t. I just kept getting reminded by my family to keep doing better, keep getting all A’s, become unstoppable so you can get into a good college and land a good job. My term GPA kept going down after that year. I was burnt out, discouraged, and I felt like a disappointment to everyone who expected nothing but greatness from me. I was suffocating, I was drowning under the weight of eyes who expected me to never fail ever again, and the more I did, the heavier they got. I graduated high school with a 3.6 GPA. Even though this was high, I still felt like a failure. When I got into college, I was happy but I was also discouraged. Would college mean more people for me to disappoint? More classes for me to do bad in, and ruin my chances of getting a good career? All these thoughts were going through my head, even when I finished my first ever semester of University. I started off as a zoology/pre-vet major, but I quickly decided this was not for me. I switched to marketing, and I could not be any happier. Even though I have had to retake two math classes, and two other courses, I am still happy. I am going in to a field where I can be happy with myself, and where even if I do not impress others up to their standards, my standards will be met. My current GPA is definitely not as high as I would like, but I enjoy seeing it slowly going up because it is a reminder of how far I have come, and how much farther I will go. Education taught me that not everything has to be settled by numbers. You do not have to be put in a box to be able to achieve greatness, and it’s okay if you are not going the same pace as everyone else. I learned to fall in love with my education, to go down the path that I want, and not the path I think I should go down to make others happy. I learned to appreciate my education, and I try my best to advocate that to my younger family members and friends as well, so they do not feel pressured to go into a field or degree that they do not enjoy. Education should be something to look forward to, it shouldn’t feel like a chore, and it should only make you more excited to see how it will make you grow into the person you will become.

Librarians have always been people I have looked up to. When I was little, I didnt just see them as people working in a library, I saw them as magicians. Magicians who can recommend you books that take you into other worlds, and magicians that seem to have all possible knowledge. They were the ones I looked up to because I thought if I could become a librarian, would I be able to have these magical powers too? This was the start of my book obsession. My aunt would take my cousins and I to our local library at least once a week, and I would check out a stack of books. All these books were recommendations from the magicians who knew what type of word I wanted to venture in to, and which ones I would enjoy. I went on adventures with the Box Car Children, the Doll House People, and even the orphans in A Series Of Unfortunate Events. These books expanded my horizons, and let me experience things in my minds, that I couldn’t have thought possible in the real world. I soaked up the stories and adventures from these books like a newly opened sponge soaks up water. I held them in my mind, and when they dripped or got squeezed out, I would soak them right back up but with new additions as well. My mind was and still is a never ending sponge that soaks up stories, adventures, and knowledge, and I would not ask for anything else. The main thing I got out of books when I was a child, was how to go on adventures; how to use your imagination, your resources, and how to develop friendships with people and animals. I guess they helped me want to become a kinder person when I was little. To try new things in school, to join clubs, and to make new friends. Now that I am older, books have helped me do the same things, but in a more intense setting. Books have taught me not to give up even when it seems like my world is ending, how to create lasting relationships after all the ones so far have not worked out, and how to keep reaching for your goals even if they seem like a galaxy away. Even though the characters in my book stop aging at some point when their book or series end, I felt like they grew up along side me. They helped me grow into the person I am today, and they were they with me during my hardest times when barely anyone else was. I got to escape into their worlds, and even when they were having hardships on their own, we got to learn and get through them together. To me, books are my hero, but I always give credit to the magical librarians that started me out. Even though I did not grow up to be a librarian, I did grow up to work in a library. I am currently in my third year of college, and I have been working on the campus library for about almost two semesters already. With this job, I have learned how to appreciate books even more than I did when I was a child, and how to recommend books to others as well. Even though I do not have all the magic that librarians do, I still get to spread my knowledge, and give patrons a chance to experience books through my mind with my own recommendations; I think that is its own special power in itself.

Minecraft doesn’t just offer limitless possibilities, it offers a way to connect, or even reconnect with people. I have about more than 3000 hours on Minecraft. Most of my time on Minecraft has been spent making memories with friends or my cousins. If you were to ask me what my favorite game of all time is, I would reply with Minecraft. My favorite aspect of this game is multiplayer. This is because without people to play with, I would honestly find the game boring. While Minecraft can be played as a solo game, it is much more fun with others. Be it if we are just starting the game and killing each other just for kicks, if we are in the mines for hours trying to find diamonds, or if we go 5-10’s of thousands of blocks just to find the most perfect place to start our base. Minecraft not only evokes creativity, but it sparks passion and joy, and creates lasting memories and relationships with those you wat to be close with. My earliest memory of Minecraft is playing the Xbox edition. My cousins and I did not have online multiplayer yet, so we would play split screen. I remember us playing the tutorial world, building very terrible pirate ships, and even discovering secretes in the tutorial worlds and having our minds be absolutely blown. My cousins and I would always play these two specific tutorial worlds. One of them had the giant castle, and the other one had this really nice pre built like neighborhood village with the houses connected to each other. Even after all these years, we still have those worlds saved, and sometimes we will go on them for a few days just to remake memories. My most recent memory of Minecraft that has become one of my favorites was from two summers ago. I have a group of about 10 online friends, and we started playing Java edition together. We spent hundreds of hours over the summer on this word. Even when we would run out of Ram on the server, we would pay money to transfer it to a bigger server host just so we can keep it alive. Even when we were all from different time zones, we would all stay up for hours building, exploring, or even just painting in Minecraft and having the most random and deep conversations. I think this is my most favorite memory that will forever be stored in my brain chemistry just because of how fun everyone was having. We tried recreating it again this most recent summer, but everyone got really busy. This really pains me because since we were all so busy, we grew apart a little bit. We still talk from time to time and try to play games with one another, and some don’t even talk to us anymore. I guess this specific memory resonates with me so deeply because it takes me back to when we weren’t worrying about school, work, money, or any of the problems going on in the world because we had our own little world. We would get on, get in a call together, go on random adventures, and even plan surprise birthday parties with decorations and presents and everything. To me, Minecraft isn’t just a game. It’s a portal that transports you to a realm of happiness, a game that strengthens connections, creates lasting memories, and leaves you with so much happiness, and even melancholic sorrow when you have to leave it all behind. Its okay to be sad, because you still carry the memories.

We all know and love #BookTok. From Jaw-dropping spicy books, to soft fluffy books, and then to insane and intricate fantasy worlds, we get a large variety of books to choose from. Like many others, I enjoy reading jaw dropping spicy books to stimulate certain emotions, but I also love to dabble in fantasy books where I can escape. #BookTok has introduced many fine men and women characters, many of them who everyone loves and wants to be real. From Aaron and Juliette, to Cardan and Jude, or even to Rhysand and Feyre. These characters have all their readers in a chock hold, and that’s definitely a thing book readers love. Even though I immensely adore these series, I like to focus on the less popular books, but ones that are still trending. My most recent obsession from #BookTok is the Poppy war Trilogy. This Trilogy barely has any romance in it, but the story and the world building and the rise and fall of characters gives as much stimulation and mind boggling scenarios as much as the most popular books, maybe even more. R. F Kuang did the impossible, and got me into this series with no romance, so many new definitions and names to learn, and a whole entirely different setting than I am used to. She gives us war, friendship, complicated relationships, fury, hatred, and love all in the same pages, smooshed together from cover to back. These three bundles of books are honestly the most captivating, mind blowing, and anxiety inducing books I have ever read, and I enjoy that immensely. The main character Rin, is a hard working, goal orientated gal (at least until things get bad). We get to follow her journey, see her experience new things, meet new friends and foes, and fight multiple wars with trying to keep her insanity intact to not burn the whole entire world down. We learn along with her, how to suppress urges, how to manipulate them and utilize them when the time comes, and when to pick and choose your battles. We grow along with her and everyone else. As much as I would love to go on and on about this trilogy, we have more books to talk about, and oh will they be worth your while. We have the Shatter me series, the Folk of the Air series, the ACOTAR series, the Haunting Adeline Series, and the Crescent City series. All of these series are already on my shelf, and boy oh boy do I love them immensely. Finding #BookTok has been a blessing and a curse; from my mental health, to my bank account, but I am definitely enjoying this (Maybe not so much my wallet though…). Besides book series, we have standalone books as well. The Seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo, The Night Circus, The Song of Achilles, Archer’s Voice, A Thousand Boy Kisses, and even throwing some horror in here: The Silent Patient. I have noticed that #BookTok mainly gives spicy recommendations, fantasy, or even dark romance. But we can all agree that enemies to lovers is the best trope out there, and you can fight me on that, but you will lose. #BookTok is probably the best gem for readers, and eve bikers who want to do their research to find themselves a #BookTok girly, or guy, whichever they prefer. Even though #BookTok gets into a lot of disagreements, they also agree on things more often than not. It’s a blessing and a curse, but it’s our blessing and curse, and we wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

“Get an office job, and just be content” is what my family would always tell me. “Art doesn’t pay the bills, you wont get anywhere in life with that”. :”Science is too hard, you wont be able to make it out alive in that field”. These sentences stick in my head, even now that I am sitting at my school job, applying to scholarships to help fund the rest of my college education. I attended college to get away from these sentences, and prove that I am more than measly words. Growing up, everyone tells you to stay away from drugs, from bad people, to stay in school and get a Highschool degree so you can get a nice office job for the rest of your life. What they never tell you though, is how hard it is growing up with a family that does not support your career or education decisions, and who try to get you to change your mind every chance they get. Both of my parents went to college, but they never graduated. They only went for a year or less, and then decided no more. Besides my parents, most of my family members never even went to college. Even now, my brother and I are the only ones who decided to take a leap of faith and just do it. I always knew that I wanted to go to college. Even though I was put against it by my family, the cost, and just the fear of not having anyone to be able to help me through the process of applying to schools, or even figuring out what I want to pursue made me hesitate more and more everyday. I was terrified, because how do I accomplish a goal I have in my mind, when I don’t have anyone, not even myself to help me through it? My main goal in life right now, is to get through college and finish with my bachelors, and then get into a field that helps promote and market sustainable resources and practices to save our planet. I am majoring in marketing, but I do also have a lot of background knowledge in sciences and the planet. I do not want a traditional office job, and I want to be able to travel to different countries to be able to spread awareness in person and online. Getting through college has been incredibly hard. I am in my third year right now, and I still cannot believe I made it this far. Without the emotional and financial support of my family, I had to rely on finding my own resources. I found friends and colleagues, as well as campus programs like TRIO, the library, and tutoring services to help make my journey a whole lot easier. I learned that you do not have to deal with everything alone, and there are always resources available to help and support you, even if you are afraid to take that first leap and talk to them first. My classes and peers helped me understand that there is more to life than a traditional office job. More to life than unsupportive family members, and a world that seems to want to stab you in the back every chance it gets. Even though my family did not support me, I want to believe they are warming up to the idea little by little the further I get into my education and career. I am glad there’s people and resources like scholarships and organizations that can help others like me and be the support they need.

Growing up, I was usually sad because I did not get to spend a lot of time with my mother. I lived with my mom and my two siblings, and the oldest was about to leave the house, leaving my mom with my sister and I. My mom worked a lot growing up, so ever since I could remember I had to go to my aunts house every single day with my siblings and cousins. I was always confused because I wanted to stay at home with my mom, but we would always have to wake up early to drive to my aunts house. Because of this, I resented my mom a lot growing up. It felt like she was abandoning me, and didn't want to spend anytime with me. I did not realize this was not the case until around Highschool. When I started getting more busy myself, I finally realized how tired my mom was. Even though all throughout elementary and most of middle school she couldn’t spend every day with me, she still made it to all my graduations, my track meets, and my violin concerts. I realized that even though she wasn’t there for me all the time, she was still there for me for the most important moments of my life. Looking back at spending all the time at my aunts house, I realized my mom had a village backing her up and giving her support. I take these memories of my mom, and the understanding of what she had to do as a single parent, and I use them to get through my college education; because if my mommy can hold the world on her shoulders, I can get through school to be able to support her too when she finally needs it.

I have been inspired by many different companies that are trying to better the world. The top company I am always following along with is "The Ocean Cleanup". They are targeting the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and are trying to reduce it by 90% hopefully by 2040. This has encouraged me to find ways to reduce my plastic consumption and to help others find ways to reduce it as well. Currently, I am only doing small things, but I believe if everyone starts somewhere, it will matter in the end because it will be a big collective process. Some examples of ways I am trying to reduce my plastic and waste consumption: I am using reusable bags for every store I go to, and if I do acquire plastic bags, I reuse those as well so I make sure I am not constantly throwing them away. I rarely use single-use bottles or containers, and if I do, I try to find the best way to recycle them, or I find a way to reuse them. In the future, I want to be able to invest in growing my own foods, making my own compost, and being an advocator for healthier living styles, and healthier consumption ways. I want to be able to help people figure out where they can start. Most people don't start because they think "Oh, I am just one person, me doing something is not going to change anything". The point is, if we all work collectively as a large group, we can make a difference. Change happens in numbers. Change happens when people get together to target the roots of the problem and try to find a solution. I am currently studying International Business, and I want to use that to be able to not only advocate in the United States but in other countries as well. I want to use my degree to be able to research other countries in a timely and informative manner, how efficient or not efficient they are in recycling and having healthy waste management, and how to find ways to improve it. This will be an incredibly long journey and a hard journey at that, but I am confident in my abilities, and I will network to find people with power who are also willing to support the better of waste in our world and reduce the pollution us humans cause on a daily basis.

One technology that always sticks out to me is the technology created by "The Ocean Clean Up". They have taken things into their own hands, and they are trying to get rid of trash in the ocean. They are the largest organization targeting the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and it is inspiring. Humans create so much waste daily and it all ends up in the ocean one way or another. not only is it ugly to look at, but it is harming the natural ecosystem of the ocean and other bodies of water. It is destroying the homes of all of the marine life and is creating more pollution for us as well. This project and company are so important to me because it is inspiring. It is heartwarming to know that people care about our oceans, and they are trying to target the problem at the source, and the roots. Not only does it encourage me to advocate for managing our waste and how we get rid of it, but also try to find ways I can reduce the waste in my daily life. How their technology works, it picks up plastic pieces that range from incredibly small, to very large pieces. This is important because it can get even the little niddy griddy pieces that are hard to get otherwise, making the cleanup more efficient. Their technology is also ever-growing, and it is expandable. They use the current of the Garbage Patch, and their own predictions to be able to be more efficient and target the hotspots of the patch, which I think is amazing. This project is expected to clear 90% of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch by 2040, and it is amazing. That is just in 17 years, significantly less time than it's been taking us as a community worldwide to deal with the pollution we are causing. This project is so incredibly important. People see it as just picking up garbage, but I see it as life-saving. They are protecting our world from further harm, as well as removing the harm that we accumulated over hundreds of years. As said earlier, this has inspired me to do better. To advocate for others to do better, to make the world a less polluted and a more clean place. People always say "But me doing something isn't going to help". What matters is large numbers of people.

I have not always been in tune with my mental health, and I am sure others can agree with this as well. When we grow up, we are either put in families who support and care about mental health, or in families that do not believe in it. I had the short end of the stick: Getting put in a family that not only disregarded mental health but was also emotionally unavailable. Fun, right? All everyone wishes for is to have a happy, healthy, and supportive family. When you have children, you are supposed to love them unconditionally no matter what, but why is this sometimes always never the case? There are a lot of families out there who discriminate against their children. Against their children's beliefs, sexuality, gender, mental health, education, career choices, etc. Why have children if you are just going to disapprove of every single thing they do? Children deserve to be loved. Teens deserve to be loved. Young adults deserve to be loved. Everyone deserves to be loved. If this is the case, why do we treat mental health like the plague? Why do we treat it as something that needs to be ignored, something that needs to be disregarded, something we should just push into a box in the back of our minds and never speak of again? Why does society push these unreasonable and inhumane ideals down our throats? Why can't we just let people live? Let them love, let them enjoy, and let them exist without the fear of being treated differently. I remember playing a card game with my friends. It was a game designed to get to know one another better on a deeper level. A level deeper than the surface. Out of all the questions asked, one question always stuck out to me. "What is your earliest recollection of being happy?". My friends had an easy time answering this. They remember things from their childhood, friends they used to hang out with, loveable memories from their families, or just these random moments of being a child when they first discovered happiness. I also remember my friends laughing at my answer. My answer was "2015 when I was playing Roblox with 2 of my best friends". Here everyone was, reminiscing from when they were 5 years old or younger, and my earliest happiest memory was when I was 12. Even though I had such a fun time making memories at 12 and lifelong friends, I always get sad when I cannot remember other parts of my childhood. This has affected my relationship with my family because I do not feel as close to them as my friends. My mental health struggles and journey have impacted my career aspirations. Ever since I was young, I have always wanted to work with animals. I went into college expecting to get a degree in Zoology and Pre-vet so I could go to med school to become an aquatic veterinarian. I ended up switching to International Business and Marketing because my mental health got so bad I could not keep up with the requirements of a STEM major anymore. When it got bad, not only did it affect my school work, but also my work life. I called out of work almost every shift, I would not get out of bed. I wouldn't even want to hang out with my roommate who lived in the same room as me. I felt lost, hopeless and like I failed. I had all these dreams and aspirations but they were swept down the drain in an instant. I feel like I gave up too easily. Took the easy way out and used my bad mental health as an excuse, but I know that was not the problem. It was something deeper. I had no motivation, no will to live, nothing. I was just an empty shell going through the motions, going day by day hoping that time went faster. Hoping that I would get out of the slump I was forever stuck in. I do not remember how I got out of it, but I did. I got out of it too late, and I failed almost all of my classes because I was so behind in assignments and lectures. When people think of mental health, all they think about is "How can this person be so lazy and stay inside all the time? It can't be that bad, right?" They have this set mentality that people with mental health troubles are faking it for attention, but we're not. We are honestly struggling so much. I struggle to get through the day, counting the time not even by minutes but by seconds because that's how slow it feels. It is not fun, but it does get better. I have to keep believing that it gets better so I can continue to be a better version of myself.

I have learned that single parents do not have it easy. I have also learned that some single parents just do the bare minimum for their children. I have thankfully not experienced the loss of a parent yet physically, but I have experienced the emotional connection loss of a parent. I barely have any memories with my mother who is a single parent, because my sister and I were always sent to my aunt's house to stay there every day until my mom got off of work. Most people can say that their mother is their biggest supporter, but I cannot say the same. Even though I love my mother deeply, she is not there emotionally toward me when I need her, and I have accepted that. It is hard for me to write this because I don't want it to seem like I am bashing on my mother. She has helped in many other ways, but I owe all the support to my best friend. My best friend has been my biggest supporter for almost 6 years now, ever since I met him. My mother taught me not to talk to people online, and I did it anyway. All of my online friends are my biggest supporters, they are my rock, my found family, and the ones who have my back when no one else will. Back to the friend in question, he has always been there for me. Not only emotionally, but also educationally. When I felt like giving up and dropping out of school, he was there to pull me out of my slump. He was there to talk me out of it, to talk me into finding s different path that I was more interested in, and to talk me into keeping on going. I guess in a way, I also helped him in his educational path. He is a few years older than me, and he dropped out of school a few years ago, but I convinced him to retry again just like he convinced me. We helped each other apply to colleges, helped with our essay questions, with research on what majors would suit us best, and helped each other stay on track. He graduated a year before me, but we are both keeping each other accountable. If it wasn't for him, I honestly do not think I would be on the path now. I wouldn't have known that pre-vet wasn't the right track for me and I did a hundred times better in international business. I wouldn't have had the courage to form new connections with people on my campus, and I wouldn't have been able to keep myself productive and manage my time well if it wasn't for him. He is my business partner, my best friend, my rock, my support, and my lifeline. He is more than just a "supporter" he is everything he needs to be and more. I am glad that I have him in my life, even if we have rocky patches. He pushed me out of my comfort zone and in turn I did the same for him. I like to think that I have done as much for him as he has done for me, and I wouldn't ask for anything more. Thank you best friend, for being there for me when no one else would.

Response in the form of poetry: "Hello? Can you hear me...? Hello? Helloooo? Its time to wake up, time to start a new day again, yet another" The voice in my head every time I wake up The voice in my head that never turns off That is constantly playing like an alarm clock that won't turn off The conversations with doctors who refuse to listen Who refuses to give help even though I'm begging The drowning feeling of being refused and ignored The stinging behind my eyes no longer returns because I can no longer shed tears I need help, I think something wrong Oh, I don't think anything is wrong you just need to get some more rest I can't sleep Oh, just take some melatonin you'll be fine Its affecting my school and work life Oh, try some chamomille tea I need help I really think something wrong Oh I don't think anything is wrong just stop overthinking My brain won't shut up it keeps getting louder Oh, just try listening to music to drown it out I can't breathe I feel like I'm drowning Oh, just take deep breaths and practice breathing exercises The drowning makes me panic The conversations branded into my mind like an unwanted burn from my family I think I need help You don't need help you're just overreacting I think I have depression You're too young to know what depression is I don't want to go to church I don't feel happy God will fix that in no time, you don't have a choice I feel like I can't breathe You're being dramatic go back to your room Why are you sleeping all the time? Stop being lazy Why is your room always so messy? Get up and clean it Why are you ignoring me?!? Learn to respect your elders The conversations with my online friends whom I found solace in I think I have depression I think I do too, do you want to talk about it? I don't know whats wrong everything feels fuzzy Take deep breathes and we can talk about it when you're ready I feel like I am constantly drowning I'll be there to save you so you don't go under The events I had to go through alone because my family wasn't emotionally there I had the worst breakup of my life I can't get over him Its been 3 years Am I broken? I was assaulted It keeps happening I cant stop it Its been 6 years. I cant eat I don't like my image anymore I do not deserve to be here I don't want to be here. The relief I found after 8 years when I went to the doctors again Hey I'm just hear for a checkup I see your mental health scores are a bit high do you want to talk about it? Yeah I just feel like I can't breathe I am not getting enough sleep I'm not happy anymore Oh, I'm so sorry that sounds awful It seems like you might have clinical depression What...? Oh, I said it sounds like you might have clinical depression Do you actually think something wrong? That I'm just not overreacting? Oh, of course, I don't think you're overreacting, I actually go through the same thing Would you like some advice? ....yes, please.... Mental illness is real. Being ignored is real. Bad doctors are real. Emotionally unavailable parents are real. Help is real. Medicine is real. Friends are real. Support is real. I am real and I deserve to be seen.

Response in the form of Poetry: Stand back so we can do our thing A message we wish to send to the Millenials and older, From yours truly, Gen Z. Stop telling us how to act How to behave Whether or not we need to shave Stop telling us to stand back Keep our mouths closed and look the other way, Keep control of your body so others don't turn away ashamed Stop telling us who to love Who to respect When and who we are needed to protect Stop telling us what we should do with our bodies We should be in control Not the ones who are ruining the economy Stop telling us to stay quiet and let the adults handle this If you were able to handle this we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place We may be polite but our words carry venom The venom of angry teenagers and adults who are tired of being treated like nothing The venom of mentally exhausted human beings who are tired of being punching bags Tired of being the ones having to fix the mess you created Tired of being the ones to get blamed for trying to fix a mess and getting the response: "It didn't need to be fixed in the first place" So we are taking a stand We are done sitting back and waiting for change to happen We will be the change And we will not apologize for trying to better the world for our future generations Our own blood couldn't even protect us from the dangers of the world So now it is our turn to stand up and protect the ones we love The ones we adopted and accepted The ones who became our found families when our blood wasn't enough They say that blood is thicker than water, but the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water in the womb We are told to stray away from strangers on the internet Keep our heads down and keep walking Connect with the real world and put down our phones The real world is burning The real world is the reason we are in this mess We are creating bonds Creating families on the internet Creating unbreakable bonds that are more fortified than the water of the womb We are speaking up Screaming out to the world To the internet To anyone who will listen We are using our resources Using what we have been giving Creating things we were never given And trying to make anew We are shouting to the rooftops Shouting out Screaming out Begging for our voices to be heard You see chaos We see beauty You see destruction We see innovations You see death and life, right and wrong We see two sides suffering from the mistakes of their governments You only see the negative The black and white The right or wrong We see the good and bad The colors that can be made The right and wrong but also the middle ground You see "lazy teens and young adults" sitting and wasting their lives away on the internet We see connections being formed Trade secrets and advice being handed out Worldwide news being shared Information being acquired New trends tricks and hacks are being found out on the daily We are connecting in our own way Connecting in ways we were not taught Connecting in ways that make us happy With the people who support and understand us You call us the lazy generation, yet the ones before us were the most lazy of them all You call us destructive but we are not the ones starting wars over stupid disputes that can be solved with communication You call ghetto and delinquents but we see mentally ill teens in need of help because we have been ignored for way too long You say we are coming up with new and dumb terms or labels We see that we are being more inclusive Being more open More positive More inviting We are a generation of lovers Fighters Survivors Screamers Winners We are a generation who seeks to change the world for the better Seek to give happiness to others that our own blood couldn't Seek to be the ears to listen when we have never been listened to Seek to be the path others can follow and be proud of We are Gen Z We will not back down and stay silent We may be polite but it is far from that Our words are filled with poison and dagger And we will not apologize Stand back so we can do our thing A message we wish to send to the Millenials and older, From yours truly, Gen Z.

I never really remembered anything from my childhood, but for some reason, this memory stuck with me. When I was little, about 9 or so, my sister and I went on a vacation to Disneyland with our Dad and his girlfriend and her family. We had such a fun time, and my sister and I wanted to go off and explore the park. We accidentally got separated from our family. My sister is only 15 months younger than me, and everyone mistakes us for twins. Even though we do not have such a big age difference, she was more scared and anxious than I was. My family always taught me that when we get lost, we should look around and try to find another family who has a small child so we know that we are safe. Even though I knew this was an option, I was also told not to trust strangers. While we were trying to find them, my sister got lost from me. Even though in the previous situation I wasn't anxious or worried, now I was. I am incredibly close to my sister, and when I lost her it was just a big hit to my heart and I started panicking. Panicking in this type of situation is normal because I was only 9 years old, and I just lost my baby sister. All that was running through my head was "Where did she go?" "When did she let go of my hand?". Questions were running through my mind while I was frantically searching for my sister. My vision was blurry with tears and I was scared. Even at a young age, I knew that panicking wasn't going to get me anywhere so I tried to calm down a retrace my steps. Now, retracing your steps as a 9-year-old is not as easy as it sounds. There were a bunch of blinding lights, sounds, and so many people around it was hard to focus. I decided to take the initiative and listen to my family's earlier advice of finding a big family and asking them to help me find my sister and/or my group. I found one despite being super nervous to talk to strangers, but they were happy to help me. I led the way to where I last saw my sister, and they walked around with me pointing out kids to see if I recognized any of them. We finally found my sister, and she was sitting at a bench crying in front of the Luigi leaning tower of tires or whatever the ride was called. I was so glad to find her and the family also helped us find our group again. My dad was so scared that we were gone I remember him also frantically searching for us, and the look of relief he got when he saw us was something I would never forget. A lesson I learned from this is that even if I am scared to do something completely new to me, or scared to take the initiative to talk to strangers even though it might not go in my favor, it is important to do what I can to be able to achieve a goal, which in this case was to find my sister and our family again. If I had not stepped up into that leadership role at such a young age, would I have been able to find my sister? Would we both be here today? I learned that leadership is important because if no one steps us, who would help in the first place?

Growing up, I lived with a big family who were emotionally unavailable. This made me grow up alone, alone with my trauma, alone with my problems, and with my thoughts. I ended up becoming depressed and suicidal thinking that I would end up dying at my own hands without a support system to back me up. I found a support system online. A group of friends I met over the internet saved my life, and I want to do the same. I decided that even if I do not know the person, or even if I dislike them, I would try my best to be a good person to them despite what my brain thinks. I want to help. I might not do big community actions like planting trees, volunteering at soup kitchens or advocating on social media, but I do small things to bring joy and happiness to people's lives. Some examples of me helping people in need are when I take the time to sit down and listen to people's stories when they seem like they're losing hope and want to give up. I've learned that a lot of people prefer to talk to others when they do not know them. It's a lot easier to talk to strangers without the anxiety of worrying that you're ruining your friendship with them. A lot of people open up easily when someone just offers to listen to them and take the time to be there. Being a strong believer that everyone deserves to be happy and loved, I take the time to listen when someone needs a shoulder to lean on. Over the past 7 years, I have talked to hundreds of people that I met in real life or over the internet and I have listened to so many different stories that I still remember. Sometimes listening helps, and sometimes you just cannot save everybody. I have lost a lot of people to suicide because they believed they did not deserve to live. I have listened to so many stories of bad childhoods, bad school experiences, or just wars with themselves that they could not win. Even though it is an extremely tough pill to swallow, not everyone is going to have an ending. I learned that even though I can make a big impact, it won't be enough to convince someone to stay and enjoy the rest of their life. Because of these experiences, I made it my mission to try and be there as much as I can. To try and help as much as I can, love as much as I can, and just listen as much as I can. The world is filled with too much pain already, and losing more precious souls is the last thing that we need. Since experiencing the loss of life, I learned that there is so much hatred in the world than there seems. So much discrimination and spitefulness. Not enough love even when we try our hardest to change that. Even though I do not have a big global impact, I like to believe that I changed a lot of people's lives of the ones I convinced to stay. And even for the ones I couldn't convince, I like to believe that I gave them happiness even though it was not enough. I take the time to repost stories on social media to spread awareness. Different groups of people are in need because the world refuses to change. I want to make an impact, even if it is just as small as reposting and listening to others.

Growing up, I did not have a good emotional support system. I had to deal with trauma and problems all by myself because neither my parents nor my other family members were emotionally available to help me through things I was struggling with. Because of this, I did not learn how to be emotionally available to others until about 6th grade when I found people who I cared about enough to be better for. One negative thing I would change about my environment, and others, would be breaking the stigma around mental health, and bettering the mental and emotional wellness support systems. Having good mental health is important. Having bad mental health but with a positive support system is equally as important. When people grow up with emotionally unavalible parents, or when we grow up in a society that invalidates and ignores others' struggles with mental health, it tears us down. The thing we can start with is targeting the root problem: The environment we are raised in. I did not realize that I had a bad environment growing up until people pointed out how good my family dynamic was. I was confused anytime someone brought that up because sure, we hung out all the time, we had family gatherings, and we lived close to each other, but I wasn't happy. My cousins were not happy, my siblings were not happy. The older generations of my family built this facade to the outside world and tried to get us to believe it as well. My family is full of hypocrites, emotionally unavailable people, and those who do not understand that they are harming us emotionally because they grew up in a society that deemed their ways of handling things acceptable. Finding outlets and support systems is super important, especially early on in life. If you grow up without that kind of thing in your life, you are either set up to have a destructive life, or you find ways to get through that and teach and guide others through it as well. I am proud of my generation (GenZ) because we are actively trying to destroy the incredibly stupid and destructive stigmas that old society has placed in this world, and we are trying to create a healthier and more inclusive world to live and be happy in. I want to be able to do that for my family and others as well Finding the courage to speak up is hard to find, but once you find people to back you up, it makes things a whole lot easier. I want to be able to tell my family things without the worry of them disregarding or invalidating my trauma and feelings. I want other children and people to be able to speak freely about their struggles as well. I think the best way to target this is to just keep on advocating for others, keep spreading awareness of the destruction that society is causing by not supporting different communities, and destroy the stigmas of things that are stupid to be scared of. We are human beings. We are going to be emotional, we are going to have problems, and we are going to want to fix things. We are not monsters just because we have problems different than other people. We deserve to be loved. I deserve to be loved. Everyone deserves to live in an accepting society no matter their identity or origin without the fear of speaking up and being themselves. We need to change. I am willing to change.

My family is black, but we were born and raised in America. We only celebrate White American traditions and holidays, and I feel robbed because I don't know how deep my origins go, and I do not have a unique culture that I can celebrate with my family. When studying history, we are taught only White American culture but we are never taught how many different cultures reside in the US, and how important it is that we see how every culture differs from one another. The only time we get shown other cultures in school is during culture assemblies, or when we are in a diverse friend group. Being well-versed and informative about other cultures is important to starting new relationships, and respecting other people in a deeper sense in our everyday lives. When I think about culture, I think of how different people celebrate things. How there are so many different holidays, traditions, foods and dances that are practiced all around the world. Culture does not just define a nation, it defines the individual. When we take the time to learn about other people's cultures; be it friends, family, or neighbors, our eyes are opened to how our culture is different from theirs, no matter how big or small. Personally, when I learned about other cultures for the first time, I felt dumb. I did not know that there were so many different traditions and holidays, and I was just used to all the mainstream ones that were seen in movies or the ones we took days off from school for. I felt uneducated, and slow because I was not taught that there were other cultures different from my own and that not everyone celebrated the same thing. This is what made me want to study abroad because I wanted to become more educated. When I came to college for the first time, I had a roommate from Hawaii and a white friend who would come over all the time and ask questions about her culture and life in Hawaii. As I watched their interactions, I noticed my roommate was relieved to know that people cared about her culture, and how her life differed from ours. She was excited to tell us about the dances, food and events they have over there, and how different it is from the other States in the US. She told us the sad and happy history, and how she wished fewer tourists would visit Hawaii because of all the damage they are causing to the environment, the housing market, and their overall quality of life. Before these experiences with my roommate and our friend, I never actively took the time to ask questions about someone's culture, but now I know to do that. Since the US is home to many different ethnicities and cultures, I believe that it is important for people who only know and who are only used to white American traditions to learn about other cultures, try new foods, learn about how cultural appropriation is harmful, and just overall be more informed and considerate to the other cultures that are living in the US. Global exploration brings the value of knowledge, respect, and crucial information to better the lives of everyone living in the US. The majority of the US culture is centered around white people, especially in politics and schools, and it is harmful to the lives of all the other races that live or try to come to the US because the US is not trying to change themselves to benefit other cultures other than their own.

I do not remember when it was, but at some point, I stopped remembering things about my childhood that I so clearly could picture in my head. I used to sit and daydream every day, thinking back and seeing my memories in my head from my past, and reliving those days like I was just there again. I do not remember anything from before 5th grade, not unless I look at a picture and the memories come flooding back. I look at these pictures, and I do not believe that this happy smiling ball of sunshine was me. I am far gone from that former self, and now I feel I am constantly trapped in a dark empty room, shrouded by a blanket of loneliness. I figured out a while ago that I have Aphantasia. It is a condition where I am not able to picture any images in my head, and the only thing I see is darkness when everyone else around me can see anything they want. My sister describes it as her watching a movie in her head, while I only see nothing. This adds to my never-ending plate of loneliness; when I try to go into my head for comfort, I am met with the reality that even in my head I am alone. I do not recall when it was that I was not able to see things in my head. Maybe it was when I stopped approaching people, when I stopped trying to make friends, or when I decided that crying or feeling any emotion is a waste of time, and I should just feel nothing at all. With this mindset stuck in my head, I have been hit with the reality that if I do not change this about myself, then I won't be able to be truly happy. I won't be able to enjoy my life to the fullest, and I won't be able to achieve my dreams when I am constantly becoming my own obstacle. My personal life, school life, and work life are becoming affected because I am not happy. I am not happy with myself or with my situation. I put on this mask to fool others, and even myself, so I can make everyone believe that I am okay; that I have everything under control, and that I am not in a constant state of hyper-awareness. I am spending all my energy fooling everyone in my life, including myself, when I could be spending this energy on bettering myself and making my life worth living. My dream since I was little was to always become a veterinarian or a marine biologist. Once I got to senior year I just said yolo and decided that I would try my best to become an aquatic veterinarian. I have two passions so why not intertwine them? When I finally got to college, I was so excited to start taking my science classes. I was always good at biology, but chemistry was always my weak link. Even with this in mind, I went in telling myself that I would do what it took to reach my goal, even if it meant getting a tutor and studying my butt off until I did the best I could. Spoiler alert: I changed my major because I gave up on my original dream, and chose something that I thought would fit my current mindset better. I gave up because I did not have the energy to keep up with classes or make myself have the motivation to keep my previous dream afloat. This same mindset I strengthened when I gave up on my aquatic veterinarian dream is the same mindset I have when it comes to meeting new people or getting faced with a difficult situation. I am incredibly unphased by everything now, and even when I am faced with a dangerous situation, physically, and or mentally, my mind shuts down and I drown out the negative emotions, and I just become nonchalant and indifferent about everything. I tell myself "Everyone will just leave like the ones in the past did; there's no need to waste your time and energy meeting new people when they will just disappoint you later on." "Even if you retake your science classes and try again, you will just have the constant mindset of failure that you won't be able to make it". "Even though you care so much about your current relationships, they are all ignoring you. They dont care about you as much as you care about them. You can just let them go and pretend that it doesn't hurt even though it will". All these messages are constantly replaying in my head. There is a loud voice in there constantly telling me that I am not good enough to be loved, to be a good student, to be worthy of following my dreams, all because I do not believe I deserve it. All these things and more, have negatively shaped my view of the world, and more importantly of myself. Even though I know that I am capable enough to do what I put my mind to, my mind is so shrouded in negativity that I will not let myself be happy, and I will not let myself feel emotions until the silence and darkness get too much that I crack, little by little until I am nothing but a million pieces of my broken and former self. The self that knows I can do more than I let myself believe, and the self that is screaming at me, begging me to pick up the pieces and slowly put myself back together again, even if it will take a lot of time and effort. Even as I am writing this essay, these words never leave me alone, and I am hoping that sometime soon I will be able to break free from my internal torment, and become the self that I deserve and need to be.

Aphantasia: a phenomenon in which people are unable to visualize imagery. ADHD: A chronic condition including attention difficulty, hyperactivity, and impulsiveness. Anxiety: a feeling of fear, dread, and uneasiness. Depression: a common medical illness that negatively affects how you feel, the way you think and how you act. Google definitions, labels, and a tag above my head saying "Woo! You have mental issues, have fun getting through your life". Besides all of these difficulties, I still try to get through life and achieve my dreams, no matter how tough my brain is trying to make things for me. I do not remember if I have always been unable to visualize images, or if it was caused later in life by trauma. The one thing I do remember is the shock and feeling of dread when I found out that not being able to visually imagine things were not "normal". I went about asking people if they were able to imagine things, and they could. They could see them either very clearly like a memory playing like a movie, or feel and see themselves at a certain location like a beach. When I tell people that I cannot imagine things visually, they are shocked. they don't believe me or they call me weird because "everyone is supposed to imagine things". It was bad enough that not being able to visualize things made it hard for my studies and remember details of people, but when people treated me differently or said that knowing this information made them mad, especially the ones closest to me, it hurt. When I was young I dreamed of becoming so many different things. An artist, a veterinarian, a marine biologist, or an architect. When I got to my junior year of high school, I decided I wanted to become a veterinarian. I spent weeks researching colleges with good veterinarian programs, animal-related majors, and other majors in case I needed something else to fall back on if I changed my mind. I have always been in love with science and animals, but I realized it is not something that I want to spend my life doing. When I got to my second semester of college, I realized that I was not happy. I could not memorize anything in my biology or chemistry classes because I could not recall what they looked like in my head, my insomnia was making it hard to wake up for my early morning classes, and being away from my friends and family made me very lonely. Even though I was contemplating giving up on school, I decided to find something else that interested me. I have always wanted to travel abroad, mainly to Germany or New Zealand. I also wanted to learn German. When I looked into other majors once I figured out being a veterinarian wasn't for me, I found a major called international business. I looked at the requirements, and surprise surprise, it requires people to study abroad and take language classes. It took days of making a pros and cons list, and I found my new major. I am happier now, and even though I have struggled up until this point, I strive to do my best to see this through and figure out my plans for after graduation the closer I get to it. I hope that people who are facing their own physical or mental adversities can find a way to keep going even if they feel like giving up. There are always options, and we just have to choose which ones will make us happy.

This may sound dumb, but when I was in middle school, around 2015-2016, my sister and I would play Roblox all the time. We would play this one game called Roblox High School and we had a blast. There were these 10 statues in the middle of the woods in the game, and my sister had the idea to write a story about them. I am 15 months older than my sister, but we have always been close since we were little. She has always had more of an active imagination than I do, and it is probably because I have aphantasia, something that does not allow me to imagine or see things in my head. Every time I think of writing something, my sister comes to mind. She has been my biggest influence when it comes to getting the motivation to write anything. She is the reason why writing is important to me. Since I went away to college, my sister and I have not talked that much. We're not as close as we used to be, and that makes me a bit sad. People have told me that I am a good writer and that I should publish my work or keep writing more. I never had the motivation to write a lot or to pursue my bigger projects, but when I think back on how my sister would, and still does write as much as she could, even if its something small, it gives me more hope and drive to be able to write as much as she does. I honestly wish my sister would share what she writes because it is truly amazing. Her brain is constantly moving at a billion miles per hour, with so much creativity and imagination. Writing is important to me because it makes me feel a closer connection to my little sister, especially when we are far apart from each other. I am not as close to any of my other family members besides my sister, and two of our cousins, and being able to have this connection with her makes me feel better about everything. My sister is always getting in trouble for reading books during class and writing instead of doing her schoolwork, but I think that is hilarious. She is so smart and creative but she is getting in trouble for not doing things that do not interest her. She does not know what she wants to do in the future, but I hope she pursues writing and makes a career out of it. Our family is so hard on her because she prefers to read and write more than anything else, but I think that's what makes her so special. Writing not only helps me connect with my sister, but it helps me give her the courage and the support she needs to keep pushing for what she wants to do, and not what others want her to do. When I pick up a pen, or when I open up a word document, I am writing for my sister. Writing to give her the motivation and hope to continue writing, writing for her to read over my writing and help me with things I did wrong, and writing to have a stronger connection with her because I love her so much. I do not express my love to my sister as much as I should, and I honestly wish I am nicer to her at times. She is my biggest influence when it comes to writing and I hope one day she realizes how much I care.

Realistically speaking, universities and colleges are expensive. You go from having fun in high school with a set schedule to paying thousands of dollars to go to school again for another 4+ years. In-state tuition is expensive, but if you want to go out of state, you might have to take out some loans or apply for scholarships. It's good to start managing your finances starting in high school, especially if you have a part-time job. it will limit the number of loans you need to take out and limit the number of scholarships you might need to apply for. As someone who has needed many part-time jobs not just because of poor self budgeting, but because I grew up in a family who was always struggling with money, I wish I learned how to manage my money better when I was working multiple jobs. I started working when I was a sophomore in high school, and when I got to senior year I was working two jobs at the same time while trying to graduate. Since I grew up not getting things I asked for, even if it was a small item when I got a job I went on multiple spending sprees, buying things I have always wanted because it made me happy. Even though this was a poor decision on my part, it also opened my eyes to why my parents never just bought everything my siblings and I wanted. They were saving up money to be able to provide us with a roof over our heads and food to feed us. Managing finances starting during high school not only ensures that you will have better habits when you go off to start adulting on your own, but it will also ensure more money you will have. It will give you skills in saving money, and budgeting, and if you ever want a business career, it's good for finance and accounting. Once you learn to start saving money, you will start knowing the difference between an essential and a want. There is a big gap between the two, and that will help save money so you're not spending things on wants instead of needs. Making good financial choices will set you up for the long run. When we learn to budget wisely, we will know how to save up for things like future tuition, living accommodations, and a car if needed. Saving from a young age may also reduce the chance for people to get a part-time job while focusing on their studies. Getting higher education can be stressful, and having to get a job on top of that can heighten those stress levels. Honestly, I am still struggling with managing my finances. I am working a part-time job to help with necessities and tuition, but I am also still buying things I want for entertainment purposes and to keep me happy. Even though I am still going to a University in State, I am 5 hours away from my family, and my friends. This has put a bunch of stress on me because I am in an unfamiliar place and trying to keep up with all my assignments so I can make a future for myself. For this reason, I am buying things that bring me comfort, and remind me of those back home. I am slowly learning to make better financial choices, and I am also double majoring in International Business and Marketing, so it is helping me learn more about the basics of business, including finance. Everyone can learn to budget, and everyone should.

The World's population is increasing every day. There are constantly more farms, buildings, and roads that need to be built every year. The everyday choices we can determine how much of a carbon footprint everyone leaves on the planet. Using your car for short distances instead of walking, leaving the water running, not recycling things correctly, and using heat and electricity when it is not needed. Many people are skeptical because they do not believe that changing daily habits can make a difference, but it can. We can all choose to be more sustainable, even if it is just a small change. Some people do not have the resources or options to live sustainably and healthily, but that is perfectly okay. Those who do have the option should try to live more sustainably. As individuals or families, there are many ways we can change our daily habits to live more planet friendly. We can grow our own herbs and food, use less water, and turn off lights when we are not using them. Families with more money can choose to buy from local farms and companies, instead of supporting big cooperations that do not care about the environment. We can limit our plastic waste by bringing reusable bags to go shopping and using reusable water bottles instead of single-use ones. Large companies produce way more pollution and toxic waste than individual human beings. They create many factories that are polluting the skies, and they care more about mass production instead of the health of the planet. By boycotting large companies, and supporting small businesses that make clothes, furniture, and art, we can limit toxic waste and help better the planet. Some can argue that small businesses are not worth it because they charge more than large companies, but there are reasons for that. The reason large companies can mass produce is because of supply and demand. The more people need or demand a product that is easy to produce the more they produce it. If they price things too high, the demand will lower, if they price them lower, more people other than those demanding it will buy them. Small business price their products higher because they are using more sustainable and biodegradable items to make their products. It is dumb, but these resources are more expensive to get since people do not use them often because they are harder to turn into products. it takes a lot of trial and error to make something planet friendly. As an individual, I may not do as much as I can to live more sustainably, but I am trying my best. I plant herbs and flowers, I own many multiple-use containers and items, and I thrift most of my clothes instead of buying them every time I need something. I am trying to use less water when brushing my teeth and taking showers, and I use reusable bags when I go grocery shopping. most of the people I know still use plastic bags when we go shopping together, so I am always carrying around a few of them in my bags so we can limit our plastic use. We can make the world a better place if we take it one step at a time.

Not only do I identify as a first-generation black student, but I am also someone who is part of the LGBTQ+ community. Finding supportive people outside of these communities is incredibly hard. Inside the communities, are some of the most supportive people you will find because they know and understand what you are going through. As someone who has grown up without support from my family for identifying as bisexual and wanting to get a better education in what I want to pursue, it was hard being myself around them. In my community and communities online that I am part of, I am actively advocating for the LGBTQ community and advising those who are struggling. When I figured out that I like not only men but women as well, I thankfully could talk to some close friends who were also a part of the LGBTQ community. They helped me stop myself from thinking that I was weird, or different from other people. My family was a different story. My cousins my age were supportive but skeptical at first, and the older ones in my family still do not want to believe I like women even though it has been years. When people come to me asking for advice, I try the best I can because I know what it is like being in their position. While advocating and standing up to others in public, on social media platforms like Discord and Instagram, and by supporting artists who identify as either LGBTQ+, POC, or both, I do the best I can to be someone others can look up and come to if they ever need anything. I encourage others to be kind and not judge others, because they would not want to be judged either. Speaking up is better than watching from the sidelines. I am currently double majoring in International Business and Marketing. Before I switched my major, I was majoring in Zoology and Pre-vet. No matter which path I chose, my family has a way to complain. "Just work an office job like me", "Stay and live with your whole family like me", "Don't go overseas and just stay here". I want to be myself and make my own decisions. I am studying at a predominately white school, and sometimes I do not feel safe because I feel like others are judging me and sizing me up. I want to be able to graduate and work in a business field where I can travel abroad for the company, and help with overseas branches. Many countries are still very anti-LGBTQ and it is hard to figure out if you will be safe when you go to the country or not. This causes many people to hide their identity, and be someone they are not. Not only is it hard on others psychologically, but it can make you lose yourself. I want to be able to advocate not only locally, but internationally as well. I would love to join a company that is actively trying to advocate for many minority and underrepresented groups and want to be a part of that. I want to be able to help those in other countries feel safe in their own homes and change the world for a better future. Life is too short to be actively hating people who are different from us just because one might find it weird. Everyone has the right to love whoever studies whatever they want and live their life the way they want.

Fighting against poetry for your love Separation is a painful thing that no one ever wants to think about. You say what a torment separation is, yet you decide to continue on and leave me. Abandoning me, yet you love me? What a funny joke. You say we are the same, yet you leave. You are scared to stay because you cannot learn how to love someone, That by this separation I may give you time to learn how to love me, but why can't you do it While we are still together and in love? Youth that possess both of us, yet you want me to waste mine yearning for you. You say youth is a precious thing but why are you asking this of me? Separation is something I do not want, yet you want to make sure you not praise yourself? Is separation the only solution? Is yet not our love for one another enough? You say absence is a torment wouldst thou prove, if it is a torment why leave? You decide to go, to sit and write about what our love once was and not try to piece it Back together, so both of us should be happy. You decide to think of only what benefits you, and not what benefits the two of us. Relationships are not just about one side, it is about a pair. You rely more on your writing than you do me, and yet I still love you. You use your excuses to create fuel for your writing, To create ammo to make me react badly just so you can have an excuse to write what you want. Your love and ignorance is a blessing and a shame all at once. My absence benefits you, but your absence destroys me.

Climate change is something that has been an increasing problem since the late 1950s. Since then, scientists and researchers have been trying their best to combat ways to slow down the effects of climate change and try to make the world a better place for humans and animals to live on. Even though humanity has been warned of the growing concerns and damage that climate change has caused, many people do not believe that climate change is something to worry about. I believe the best way to fight climate change is to be more sustainable in our daily lives even if it is a small change. If everyone becomes more sustainable, the world will become a more healthy place. Reduce, reuse, recycle. This is a common phrase that people have been saying to try to get people to be more sustainable in their daily lives. Reduce consumption of electricity, water usage, fuel usage, and other things that raise large cooperations in creating more factories and creating even more pollution. Reusing plastic or glass containers for storage instead of throwing them away, and recycling paper and glass correctly to ensure that they can be reused and refurbished into other items that are sustainable and biodegradable. Small things like turning off the water while brushing your teeth and growing your herbs and produce at home can be things that have a big impact. Spreading native flower seeds on the grounds, taking time to volunteer and plant trees or picking up trash along parks and beaches can make an immense impact as well. Some people do not have the privilege or resources to cut back on their consumption of things that harm the environment and that is perfectly okay. Finding even the tiniest things to change in your daily life can make an impact if everyone tries. Supporting charities and foundations that fund research and volunteer work is a big help in getting new sustainable technology developed. Some way I strive to fight climate change is every time I order or buy food, I save the containers they come in. I then use those containers for plants and herbs that I grow inside and outside my house, so I do not have to buy more plastic containers from big brand cooperations. I make sure to compost any leftover food to also help the growth of my plants, so I do not have to buy compost or fertilizer from the stores. I support buying clothes secondhand so I do not have to spend my money on the consumption and manufacturing of mass-produced clothes. I sadly have not done a lot of volunteer work, but I speak to community members, family members and friends about the importance of being more sustainable. I strive to put more time in during my vacations from school to volunteer at animal shelters, or volunteer to help plant more trees. Many things are speeding up the deterioration of the planet, and it needs to be addressed. We need to come together as a collective and make more sustainable choices in life. Climate change is not something to be taken likely, and the faster people figure out that our planet needs serious help, the faster we can slow down the ticking clock on our planet.

Fighting against poetry for your love Separation is a painful thing that no one ever wants to think about. You say what a torment separation is, yet you decide to continue on and leave me. Abandoning me, yet you love me? What a funny joke. You say we are the same, yet you leave. You are scared to stay because you cannot learn how to love someone, That by this separation I may give you time to learn how to love me, but why can't you do it While we are still together and in love? Youth that possess both of us, yet you want me to waste mine yearning for you. You say youth is a precious thing but why are you asking this of me? Separation is something I do not want, yet you want to make sure you not praise yourself? Is separation the only solution? Is yet not our love for one another enough? You say absence is a torment wouldst thou prove, if it is a torment why leave? You decide to go, to sit and write about what our love once was and not try to piece it Back together, so both of us should be happy. You decide to think of only what benefits you, and not what benefits the two of us. Relationships are not just about one side, it is about a pair. You rely more on your writing than you do me, and yet I still love you. You use your excuses to create fuel for your writing, To create ammo to make me react badly just so you can have an excuse to write what you want. Your love and ignorance is a blessing and a shame all at once. My absence benefits you, but your absence destroys me.

Scientific discovers are essential to how we can know more about not only life on earth, but the worlds and systems past our atmospheres. Being an undergraduate STEM student, any discoveries that bring us closer to learning more about what's around us makes me happy. Even though there have been many crucial discoveries, there have also been cute ones! Currently, one of my favorites has been finding out that the Jorunna parva, or otherwise known as the Sea Bunny, is a living thing! Even though the sea bunny was discovered 66 years before I was born, I did not find out about its existence until 2017, when it first became a widely known adorable sea critter over social media. Being a child who loved marine life, and now being an adult who wants to become a veterinarian to take care of that said marine life, Sea Bunnies have been one of my biggest motivations contributing towards my goals. Knowing that such a cute sea animal exists, and that there could be many more adorable creatures undiscovered, motivates me immensely. There are many interesting things about sea bunnies that caught my attention, I could list them all, but I would run out of space. My favorite fact about sea bunnies, is that they are extremely toxic to anything that ingests them, which does not make them susceptible to predators. Even though they do not have many predators, they have a short life spam of less than a year. They use their time reproducing and being cute, which is sad, but fascinating. The 'ears' that we see on the sea bunnies are actually rhinophores, and it helps them find mates to be able to reproduce. It makes me sad that they are not actual miniature bunnies, but they are interesting nonetheless.

My mind feels like chaos every hour of the day. Swarming and swirling, constantly grinding its gears and never letting up. My mind feels like waves during a storm. Harsh and unpredictable; terrifying and powerful. My mind is more than enough to drown someone. I wonder who is unlucky enough to find themselves wandering into my mind. Who would be the one to get swept up under my terrifying waves, under my uncontrollable and unpredictable ocean of emotions and feelings, thoughts and fears; then I wonder who the unlucky ones are that live in my mind. Every ecosystem has things living in it. Be it if they are happy, in constant fear, or just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mourn for the ones who live in my head. Mourn for the ones who wander in. Mourn for the ones who did not have a choice. I think the only one who lives in my deadly ocean is myself. When I think of an ocean during a storm, I think of the marine animals, the fish, and every living organism. Are they terrified of the waves like I? Do they find a place to hide from the harsh conditions a storm brings to their home? Are they just made to endure it, made to survive every time it happens? I was always terrified of the ocean until I was not. I work at a seafood restaurant in the marina; funny, right? Big open windows with captivating views stare right at me every time I work there. Big powerful, angry waves hit the tall rocks that protect the boats during storms. Big angry waves wash away everything that dares to get in its way. An old guy named Kimo comes to the restaurant two to three times a day. He sits in the same spot and orders the same thing every time. I watch him, and he stares at the ocean like it is his lifeline. He stares at it as if it was to disappear someday, and so would he. Later on, I learned that he is a marine biologist. I asked him why he loves a terrifyingly powerful force of nature. Why does he seem so drawn to it? All he said was that he learned to stop being scared. Sometimes when I talked to him, he would tell me facts and stories about when he was a marine biologist. He explains things to me that do not make sense, but they are fascinating nonetheless. He is such a weird phenomenon. Talking to him makes me want to love the ocean. It makes me want to understand what's happening beneath the harsh waves, and it makes me want to appreciate its good and bad sides. I want to be able to become a marine biologist as well. I want others and myself who have their oceans to understand that even though it is scary, so many beautiful things come out of it. I want to understand what happens to the animals, and I want to be able to help them. Going into a field working with the ocean is now a long-term goal, and I would not have it any other way. I want to positively impact the ocean world, and the people who are terrified of it. I want them to learn that things that seem harsh and terrifying, are beautiful, inside and out. There is beauty in its chaos, and we should appreciate that. I am still trying to overcome my ocean, but I want to love it all.

Being a black woman who works two jobs, I am looked down on because people believe that I am struggling so much, and I need the money. I am working not only because I love it, but because I want to be able to keep supporting myself enough financially, and to have more than enough money throughout the years. Saving money is one of the most important and smart things you can do financially. One piece of advice that my brother gave me when I started working was to put most of my paycheck into my savings account, and only use my money for necessities like gas and school fees. Being taught how to save my money in a smart way that does not affect me negatively has really helped me. It gives me more hope for college, knowing that I will have little debt when I graduate. I have learned to be smart with my money, and it has taught me valuable life lessons as well. Being able to make smart choices, especially when it comes to money, is an amazing trait to have, because it proves you are not only responsible, but that you care about your future, and you have a reason to save money. If I ever need extra money, I will always take it out of my savings, but I would put it back in with extra when I get my next paycheck. Even if I take something out of my savings, I always pay it back to myself so that I am not worried about running my savings out. I am glad that I was taught how to be financially smart because it has saved me countless times if I am in a pickle or if I have surprise bills and fees to pay.

Mental health is something that a lot of older generations overlook. They were taught to treat it as something that is a curse, rather than something that can easily be fixed with the right tools and help. Having this engraved bad feeling about mental health causing the newer generation to hide things from their family. From personal experience, my family does not care about mental health. They overlook it and just brush it off as me being lazy, and not listening to me when I say something is very wrong. I believe that a practical and easy solution to helping more people who struggle with mental help is to educate people on all aspects of mental health so they can see the signs. I believe that it is important for people to be educated on mental health so they can encourage the person to speak up and get help without being judged by everyone. Teachers should be taught about mental health so they can see when their students is really struggling and they can adapt their teaching to what their students need. School is one of the main causes of stress and it is a breeding ground for mental health because of the work overload and the mental strain parent and teachers puts on the students. Police officers and anyone else who works to serve the public should also be educated on mental health. There has been way too many instances where someone who has a disability or someone who has mental illnesses has been wrongly accused or killed because the police officer does not understand what is going on with them. Knowing the importance of mental health and how to identify it is crucial to saving people from being judged or killed because people do not understand.

School seems pretty straight forward and easy through elementary school, and then it gets more stressful the closer you get graduating from high school. I have always found school to be easy; that was until I went into my second year of high school. Completing Freshman year with a 4.0 GPA, I was pestered by my mother to continue to keep the same grades all throughout the next three years. As you can guess, this put a lot of mental stress on me. It made me feel like I had to do everything perfect, get perfect grades, study, do all my homework, and graduate with a perfect GPA. I felt like if I did not do this, then I would disappoint my family. Everyone has such high expectations of me, and I cannot fulfill them. Trauma is a real and stressful thing. Even the smallest thing someone does can make you traumatized without you, or them, even realizing it. My family constantly breathing down my neck about my grades has caused me to hate school. It makes me belittle myself and shame my brain when I do not pass a test, or when I do not get the perfect grade. I have not gotten a 4.0 since I was a freshman. Maybe it was because I thought about it too much, maybe I am too traumatized, or maybe my brain stopped working. Parents think that they are pushing you past your limits for the best, but in reality it is tearing me down day, after day, after day. Wearing me out and making me feel like I am not worthy of graduating, not worthy of the grades I get, not worthy of the recognition or praise. In reality, I feel like a fraud. I put on a mask to pretend that I'm not burnt-out, to pretend that everything is fine and that I'm trying my best. Everyone believes I am still trying. Still aiming to be perfect, aiming to please everyone even if I do not know them. The truth is, I gave up a long time ago. Does giving up mean that I do not want to try anymore? No. It means that I do not want to be shackled by my trauma, I do not want to be tethered to people who expect things that I cannot accomplish. I want to be free, be free to peruse what I want to do, to go to the university I want to go to, to have the life that I want for myself, not the life that others want for me. I am tired of being the center of attention, tired of being the family member that everyone else gets compared to because in reality, I am nothing special. I am a burnt-out teenager who just wants to live her life and become a veterinarian. I am a teenager who wants to escape from the emotional damage that my family and society has created for me. I am a teenager who is relying on hope and my own willpower to make it through this labyrinth of trauma, and to become someone that I am proud of. Do I know a version of me I want to be proud of? No, I do not. I want tot figure it out. I want to be able to look back and think to myself that I made it. I became the person I wanted to be, the person younger me would look up to and think "I want to be like her when I grow up". Trauma will never define me. Getting a college education is important to me. Being a black, first generation women in my family is a big deal to me. It makes me proud of what I have accomplished, and what it took to get here. Even if I have trauma from my family about school and everything else, I am going to college for me. Not for them. I want to prove to myself that it's okay if I make mistakes, it's okay to ask questions and to be tired of school for a few days. As long as I accomplish my goal and get there by helping myself, and others, while not stepping over anyone, everything will be okay. I am not going to let my trauma stop me from accomplishing my goals, and I hope no one else lets theirs stop them either. I want to get a college education, not only for myself, but for others who feel trapped by their trauma. I want to help them realize what they want to accomplish and what they need to get there. Education should be available to everyone without the excruciating mental and physical stress that it puts on everyone. Education should have a positive meaning for everyone, no matter their circumstances or where they come from. I am a very crafty person. I love keeping myself busy and distracting myself from my thoughts. I have a lot of art hobbies including: crocheting, painting, drawing, and playing instruments. Outside of school, I am usually working. I have two jobs. One of my jobs I work at during the weekdays and the other I work on the weekends. Working two jobs is really tiring, but I am saving up money for college because I do not want to have debt after I graduate. My cousins and are always play games after school or after my older cousin and I get off of work at night. We play a lot of games that require us to work together, and it is perfect for creating a stronger bond. A typical day after school would be go home, get ready for work, or if I do not have work, then eat a snack, say hello to my parakeets, and then play video games and study. Studying is often the last thing of my day that I do, so I am more concentrated and not getting the urge to play games. High school is not a fun experience for me, so I am not really curious about anything during school. Outside of school, I love constantly exploring new hobbies or new ways to enhance my current hobbies. When I am curious about something, I spend my time researching it, and watching a lot of videos on it until I get encouraged enough to try and peruse that hobby. I learn a lot of new things every time I am working. I work at a restaurant and at a vaccination clinic for pets, so I am constantly increasing my information on things. At both my jobs, I love learning about all the different positions and what they do and how they all fit in with each other. Curiosity is like a puzzle, and I love trying to fit all the pieces together until it all makes sense. Even though I am constantly being busy, I still find time to do all the things I enjoy, and I applaud myself for being able to do what I never thought I would be able to do. Free myself from the shackles of everything that was holding me back. I am on my way to happiness.

Being a skinny person, people think that I am healthy because of the size of my body. Others think the opposite and tell me that I need to eat more. I personally think that I am a decently healthy person. I exercise, go to the gym, play sports, and I am always moving around. On the other hand, I eat a lot of junk food on a daily basis, and sometimes I do not eat at all. I think living a healthy life should not be defined by nutrition or the size of your body. It should be defined by mental health, how you handle experiences in your life, and the people you chose to be around. Health is not defined by just one thing, but by many things. Mental health is important because not only can it affect your mental health, but it can also affect your physical health by destroying you from the inside out. Stressful situations can also cause a lot of damage to the way you live your life; it can overwork you, make your body deteriorate faster, and cause you to burn out. We look at the oldest people alive right now, or people who have lived the longest, and some of their daily habits are...questionable. Some only ate a specific food every day or did a certain exercise; but that is not what defines a long, healthy life. I believe that taking care of yourself mentally and physically, not over working yourself, and eating healthy occasionally is what makes someone healthy. Being happy and surrounding yourself with people who will encourage you to do better. Being around people and things you love is what makes a life healthy and happy. Love can do wonders to people and keep them alive for longer.

Minorities are greatly underappreciated. We are mistreated, killed, underrepresented, and looked down upon just because we look different from white people. Minorities have always been seen as inferior to the whites because of how history was made. I want to challenge all of that, and make the world a safer place for current and future generations of minorities. Being a black woman, I do not feel safe when I go to certain states or certain towns because they are mostly dominated by white people who still have racist ideals and who are not caught up with the 2022 program, that everyone deserves to be treated fairly and with respect. Minorities are being depleted of career opportunities, education resources, and fair living wages. We get classified as lower class because we get paid significantly less than a white male who could have the same skill set or less than someone of color. I am lucky to have opportunities that are not available to others because of how I grew up. I want to use my opportunities to pave a way for others to live a better life. Currently, I have been accepted to many colleges and Universities with different scholarships, but ironically I chose the one that gave me the least amount of money, and the one that has mainly white students. I chose it because not only does it have one of the best veterinarian programs, but because I want to challenge myself and see how well I will do. I want to become a veterinarian, even thought they're different, along the way I want to work with minority groups, and come up with ideas of how to make the world a safer place for minorities and to teach them how to go after the experiences they want and deserve.

Passion and drive are two things that I believe are needed to acquire ones goals. Be it personal, professional, or career goals. I believe that having these two things will bring you closer to reaching goals people have worked hard for. I have many goals for the future, but my biggest one is becoming a veterinarian. Some might think that I am only becoming a veterinarian because I love animals; that is a big chunk of why, but not my main reason. Even though m love for animals is strong, I want to become a veterinarian because I strongly believe there needs to be more black representation in the STEM fields. Being a young black woman, people often discourage me to find an easier career path because they do not believe that black people (especially black women) do not possess the same skill sets as a white male going into the STEM field. Reading all these articles of how many black people are in STEM fields in saddening because there is not a lot, nor is there an abundance of black representation in the media. My goal is to be someone for current and future black generations to look up to. I want them to have someone they can relate to, someone they can take advice from, and someone who can aspire them to push all the social expectations of black people. We are more than a darker skin color, we are people who deserve the same opportunities and education as any other person on this planet. People are so scared of being outsmarted by someone society portrays as inferior, that they try to belittle us. They try to make us believe that we are not capable of something anyone else can do, and I am tired of it.

Passion is a universal language. Millions of people could have the same passion and live on complete opposite sides of the world. There are many apps and threads where you can talk to and connect with people who have the same passions and ideas. Even though they may be far away or close, connections can be made through those little, unforgettable moments. One thing I am passionate about is making the world a happier place for everyone. I believe that my life mission is to make others happy, so I do it on a daily basis. I love seeing people smile and hearing them talk about things they love. Being in love with the small moments people have when they get super excited, I am in love with peoples smiles, and their contagious laughs. Being a very optimistic person, I always try to make others smile when I sense that they are sad, I also love giving random little gifts to people, be it one of my old plushies, or a little origami crane I decided to make out of the blue. I do not expect anything in return besides seeing their eyes light up. I want people to be happy; to have good days even when things in their life are not going the way they want them to. I believe that doing the smallest thing like giving a compliment about someone appearance, laughing at someone's joke, or just encouraging them to do something can make someone's day 10 times better. During these pandemic times, everyone especially deserves a break from all the stress and negativity on the media about everything that has been happening. Happiness is infectious and spreading it is something that should happen on a daily basis because everyone deserves to be happy.

I personally have a love hate relationship with sports. I did gymnastics for a few years, and I have done track since kindergarten. I have always had bad asthma as a kid, so doing sports was hard for me, but I wanted to be like my cousins and do the things they did. All my family has done at least one sport in their lifetime, and they always encourage my siblings, my cousins and I that we should follow in their footsteps. Everyone except my sister plays sports (She is lazy). Even though I have limitations and things that make people wonder why I do track, I still enjoy doing it because it keeps me busy. One thing that has inspired me my whole life has been my older brother Trei. He is 30 years old, he worked as a server at a restaurant for more than 10 years, and now he works at Lexus. My brother is the definition of a workaholic, and he inspires me to be one too. Sometimes he gets on my nerves because if I am having a huge problem between myself, he has different ideals than me, and it makes me upset when he is not able to help. My brother is my biggest inspiration in my life right now, and I am thankful for him. My brother has always been a sports person. He loves watching sports, doing fantasy football, and playing soccer and basketball. He has helped me train for track, apply for colleges and scholarships, get a job, and help me with all my dumb math homework (Math is the root of all evil). Trei is always encouraging me to do more than I think I am capable of, push past my limits and go above and beyond and challenge everyone's expectations and standards. A little about myself; I have a bunch of hobbies including crocheting, playing the violin, and gaming. I am a very optimistic person and I love helping people. I am currently working two jobs, one of them at the restaurant he worked at, and he encouraged me to do an interview even though I was completely terrified to. I work almost every day, this shows how I take after my brother (I am becoming a workaholic). The second job I work at is Petco, I help vaccinate animals and I love it because I want t become a veterinarian. Juggling school and work is already hard enough, but I love staying busy. I am a sprinter because it is hard for me to run long distances. The events I do are the 100 m, 200 m, and the 100 m hurdles for varsity at my high school. Asthma definitely makes things harder for me, and it makes me think that I am not as good as all the other people because of the limits I have. My brother has helped me keep faith, and he has helped me understand that I am as amazing as everyone else on my team. When track season starts this year at my high school, I am going to be very stressed trying to juggle everything, but I decided that do not want to miss out on track my last year of high school. I have been doing track since kindergarten and I feel that, if I did not do it this year, I will regret it. My brother has encouraged me to keep pushing even if I feel like I won't be able to do everything, but I know that he will be here for me when I need help.

I consider myself to be a gift giver. Be it gifts for birthdays, holidays, or random occasions. I love giving people gifts not because I expect something in return, but because I love seeing their faces light up when I hand it to them. I especially love when I randomly give someone something when I see that they are sad, and then they cheer up; this makes me really happy because I love making people's day. Not only is giving gifts important to me, but other forms of giving things to people like: helping homeless people, giving a helping hand when someone needs to carry something, giving compliments and words of affirmations, and giving thanks to people you are thankful for. I believe that all these forms of giving are significant because it shows how one little act can make a person's whole day better. You never know if someone is going through a rough time, or if they hit rock bottom, or if they are just having an awful day. Just complimenting someone or asking if they are okay is enough to brighten someone's day and make them think happy thoughts even when their mind is clouded with sad ones. I never expect people to give me things in return because I do not gift for that, and I do not expect people to compliment me for something else in return either. I do not mind if I do not get anything from people; as long as I can make someone happy, that is all that matters to me.

  A lot of small things make me happy; animals, letters, stickers, plants, people saying hi to me, complimenting me, seeing videos of cats, I get happy very easily. Being a very optimistic person can be a blessing and a curse. Even if I am very optimistic, I am incredibly pessimistic at the same time because of trauma. I always try to stay positive so the people around me have better days.    My friends describe me as a puppy, the sun, and a cinnamon roll. It makes me happy that they think I am a ball of sunshine and happiness because even if I am not happy all the time, I still try my best to be there for my friends and to be their light in their dark days.     I have a lot of hobbies, and even if I learn them and then not pick them back up for months, those small actions were fun. I learned how to crochet, how to paint and make sculptures out of clay, I learned how to make blankets and I learned how to sew. Furthermore, I love using my hobbies to make gifts for people. Making gifts is something that I enjoy doing; even if it is not a holiday or a birthday, I love seeing peoples faces light up when I hand them a homemade present.     Hearing people talk about their dreams, something they are excited about, and just seeing them be happy over things, is something small that makes me incredibly happy. Seeing people laugh at their own jokes to the point where they can barely finish it, getting really hyper and giggly when they think of a fun memory, and just being them is encouraging. I believe that happiness is infectious, so even small things can make anyone's day brighter. 

   My close friends describe me as a good listener; my family says I do not listen enough. I have selective listening, so I actively listen to people who do not judge or criticize me, I listen to people who need advice, who need to rant, or who just need someone to talk to.  Listening to others means a lot to me because I want others to feel like they have someone to talk to because I never really did.      Growing up and even now, my family has bad communication and listening skills. They do not believe or understand mental health so when I was struggling, they would never listen to me even when I desperately required help. This made me develop a habit of not asking people for help because I was afraid they would ignore me like my family did. My past trauma makes me more empathetic to those around me, and it makes me want to help them. This is a good and bad things because I get to help them, but I ignore my own needs in the process.      To me, actively listening to people means that you care, you want to help them and be there for them even if they think their problems are too big or too small. Even though listening might be such a small trivial to some people, it can make a huge impact on someone's life; making them want to live longer, encouraging them, inspiring them, and making them overall more happy. That is the impact I want to make when I listen to people. I do not expect anything in return, I just want them to be happy and live a better life, even when they do not believe they should. 

Hi, my name is Adri! If I had to choose between two animals that I relate to I would say a goldfish and sea otter. My memory is somewhat bad, or maybe I just have selective memory because I forget things really easily so I would say a goldfish because they forget things. I am very energetic and ironically, I suck at swimming but I love playing with rocks and shells like an otter, and I am very curious and willing to learn a lot of new things. I would say I am very active and lazy at the same time because I am a workaholic, but I love procrastinating.

Even though this has been around for a while, one old and still advancing technology that inspires me are prosthetics. There are different types of prosthetics that all help immensely in various ways. Prosthetics inspire me because they are helping people who lost a part of themselves try to feel complete again and try to feel normal. People who use prosthetics might have lost a limb, may have been in bad accidents, war, or just needed an amputation due to health reasons. All of these people had lifestyles that might have suited them, but their dreams were ruined because bad things happen. Prosthetics help the person rehabilitate, and they help them feel back to normal, since they might hate that things have changed with them. It warms my heart that there is technology out there that help people get back to their routines; like if they lost a leg and required a prosthetic; the prosthetic can help them feel like their normal selves again because they can relearn to do the things they love, even if it is a difficult and long process. I have read articles of people with prosthetics doing everyday things like running a marathon, and riding a bike. I am glad that they are still able to do the things they did before because sometimes disabilities take the things we love away from us. Learning about prosthetics is intriguing and enlightening because not only do they help humans, but they help animals as well. For example: I have seen on social media and movies, elephants and dolphins that are fitted with prosthetics to help them after they lost a leg or a tail. Growing up, I would always watch “Dolphin Tale”, which is a movie about a dolphin who needs a prosthetic fin. That movie always made me cry, and it still does. Sadly, the dolphin who was named Winter died in November 2021. Seeing representation of prosthetics in movies and social media make me have hop for humanity, and it makes me excited to see how this technology can advance more throughout the years.

Education drastically needs a better system to be able to help current and future generations in schools. Children and teens are struggling with having too much homework, little to no sleep, mental health issues, and being discriminated and excluded during school even though it is 2022. I believe mental health is one of the biggest issues we need to focus on because if we pinpoint that, we can target all the other issues and work to solve everything. One change I believe that would make education better for not only future generations but as well as current generations, are having therapists in schools that are qualified and trained to deal with mental health. Public schools are in desperate need of someone who can understand and help children through hard times who believe that they can not talk to their parents; if there are trained people in the schools that specialize in mental health, the students will not have to worry about the expensive costs of therapy and just rely on the person in the school. Some will argue that a therapist in schools will be a waste of money because the school district would have to pay them; if we pinpoint and better students mental health, then their grades and moods will become better because they do not have a giant storm cloud suffocating their brain. Not only could they help the students, but they can help teachers as well. Teachers struggle with understanding kids and trying to keep them in check because they do not understand why they are acting the way they do. Communication and middle ground is incredibly important, especially when two sides are trying to understand one another. Being a senior in high school, I can see firsthand how much everyone is struggling on a daily basis. Our schools are trying to encourage us to learn respect and kindness, and they say that they care about our mental health, but they really do not. They go and hand out a bunch of homework when we have 8 classes to deal with all school year, and then get upset when we try to ask for an extension. Students not only have to worry about grades, they also could be struggling at home; many students have to take care of their siblings because their parents work a lot. Not only that, but a lot of students who are juniors and seniors have jobs, and they play sports at the same time. This causes a lot of teens to develop insomnia and high stress because they are struggling to juggle everything at once. Currently, counselors at schools are unqualified to deal with mental health. They do not fully understand what is going through our minds. They think we are being disobedient and overeating when in reality we are struggling every day not being to switch out of classes, getting too much work, and no sleep. I believe having qualified people working in schools will be a game changer.

Starting this off, I personally hate writing essays because even if I think I write a good essay, it might not look good in someone else's eyes; as long as I understand and believe in what I am typing, why should I worry about what someone else thinks of my essay? I believe that it some essays are awful especially if they pinpoint inhumane activities and thoughts, but if someone has a good idea on what should make the world a better place, idea on how to help, or thoughts on how plans are going to help with those investments of making the world a better place, their opinion matters. I am not writing to meet a certain writing style, to please someone else with the way I type, I am writing to try to inform others, to encourage them that we can make the world a better place and to help them understand why it is important that we do that.    STEM has always been a passion of mine. Any career I have been interested in, relates to STEM; be it veterinary sciences, marine biology, architecture, or engineering (which does not make sense because I am bad with math). STEM not only inspires people, but it encourages them to do greater things. To go above and beyond to make the world a better place, to invent or enhance creations to keep evolution of technology and medicine flowing.    Art is another one of my passions, but also a hobby. There are many forms of art; including dance, singing, preforming, painting, drawing, sculpting and architecture. Art is not only its own form, but it is also a part of STEM. Many forms of art are used in STEM to better help with creativity and new designs.    I personally believe that STEM and Art are two major education and career paths. They both require a lot of thinking, creativity and imagination. With both of these categories, there are many infinitely possible inventions and creations that people can discover and create to better the world and the lives of everyone.     I believe that STEM and art could make the world a better place because with how much our society is advancing in number of births, number of houses being built and the more food we need, we need to keep coming up with new and innovative ways to make life more livable and sustainable for everyone.      Science and technology are one of the most advancing parts of stem that are being used to make sure we have a better life for ourselves and future generations. Medicine is advancing at an extreme rate, bringing new safe experiments (hopefully), new cures to diseases, new discoveries of diseases and illnesses, and new vaccinations against viruses that are affecting our everyday life. There has always been a high demand for doctors and scientists, and we have not been disappointed with the amount of people wanting to go to medical school to peruse an education and career in science and medicine because they want to help. There are still a lot of jobs that are in high demand like nurse's, data scientists, veterinarians, physician assistants, and many more; this high demand in jobs is being met with more generations being inspired by STEM and wanting to go into those fields of studies and careers.      STEM and Art are closely linked together, so Art falls into the STEM category. Without STEM, there would not be advances in technology at all.  Everything would be bland and gross. Art helps stem be more innovative and creative. Take engineering, for example. Engineers can use designs they created through art to engineer a device that's new, or a device that can be upgraded to look better. Engineers can also work with architects to help design buildings through blueprints and design plans to make sure that the building they want will be able to withstand weather and all forces of mother nature and be livable in.         A little about myself; I am a pretty weird person in a way. People say my personality is peculiar, and they cannot figure me out a lot of times. I am very closed off with my emotions, but I love listening to other people and trying to help them. I have quite a lot of friends, but I am close with all of them because I love getting to know people instead of just having to encounter them a few times a month. I am a workaholic; I love working; I have two jobs, and I am on track to graduate high school. I have a lot of hobbies that include: Gaming, painting, gardening, playing instruments, and crocheting. I own three parakeets named Ori, Ocean, and Milky, and they are the most adorable things ever.     I love animals. My favorite animal is the sea otter. I am always watching videos on sea otters and I have a lot of plushies. I want to peruse a college education because I want to achieve my dream of becoming a veterinarian. Both my parents went to college, but I know my mom did not get to finish it, I am not sure about my dad. College to me seems like a good way to escape from all the stress my family puts on my, and it makes me excited to actually peruse something that I am interested in and something that I want to do; not something someone else wants me to do.      College is not available to everyone, so I am glad to be able to have the opportunity to pursue a higher education, and I will not take it for granted. I want to pursue a higher education because I want to change the world, I want to challenge social economical standards and encourage other black women and younger generations to pursue a career in STEM. I believe that racial representation is important in daily life, especially for younger generations.

Being a black women wanting to pursue a D.V.M., I am passionate about STEM because I want to be able to show society that black people are way more than the color of their skin. We are smart emotionally and intellectually, we can do whatever a white person can do, and we should be able to get the same education and opportunities as white people. Just because the color of our skin is different, does not mean that it is okay to treat us any differently. Becoming a vet has made me realize that it is going to be a hard thing to accomplish. A lot of eyes are going to be on me when I go to university, and when I finally achieve my goal. So much pressure comes with being a minority, especially a black female, who wants to enter STEM fields. People are going to try to belittle me, tell me I should give up, that I will not make it, but I believe in myself. I am passionate about my dreams and goals, I am passionate that I can make a difference and encourage more black representation. Representation is not the only thing I am passionate about in STEM. I am passionate about becoming a veterinarian because I want to be able to offer things that the vets in my city do not offer. When I had a pet hamster over a year ago, none of the veterinarians in my area would allow care on animals unless it was the emergency vet clinic, which was expensive. Not having a way to get there was a struggle as well. I want to be able to provide a community for people and their pets to come to. I want to be able to have people come to me in emergencies or not, no matter what time of day, so they have less of a chance of losing their beloved pet. With black workers making up only 9% of the STEM fields, I want to encourage incoming and younger generations belonging to Black and Hispanic communities that they can be whoever they want to be, even if someone does not believe in them. I want to be a role model and encourage others to be one as well. I want communities to come together and work with one another to make the STEM community a better place, to make their communities a better place. Furthermore, I do not want people to be afraid about what they are passionate about. People should rely on each other and encourage one another to challenge and question social norms; to challenge economical pay standards and to push for higher pay grades for Blacks and Hispanics. It is not fair that we are getting paid less than Asians or White people just because of the color of our skin and the assumptions that follow us wherever we go. Why should we be forced to get paid less than anyone else even though we are doing the same exact job? Why should we have to deal with the scraps when we are capable enough to get the full meal. Pursuing a career in the veterinary field is incredibly important to me, so I can not only help animals, but help their owners as well. I want to create a trusting and reliable community; encourage people to be able to count on me and others even if they are scared, even if I am their first or last resort at saving their beloved animals. I want to be able to bring communities together no matter what.

Hobbies have always been a way for me to escape reality. For me to ignore my emotions and my problems, but now they have become a coping mechanism for when things get too overwhelming. Over the past few years, I have been interested in many hobbies and my family praises me for wanting to expand my horizons, but they just see it as that and nothing more. Hobbies are not only something to do to pass the time, they are an art that helps you recognize yourself more, help you be more in tune with your emotions and what you want. One of my favorite hobbies is crocheting. When I was little, my mom taught me how to finger crochet, and I would always make a bunch of headbands to give to people as gifts. I would sit on the ground for hours, concentrating and passing the time. Years later, my mom taught me how to crochet blankets. I started my own project and tried making a blanket for myself. It did not turn out very well, but I learned a lot from it along the way, I learned what I did wrong, how to fix my mistakes, and how to improve. The next blanket I tried making was a present for one of my dearest friends. It turned out well, and she loved it so much. I was proud of myself for learning from my mistakes and accomplishing what I was working on. Crocheting has been something that I do to pass the time. I learned how to do amigurumi which is making animals with a magic circle start. I learned how to make bumblebees, whales, and snakes. Making bees is something I have been obsessed with since I learned how. I would sit for hours at a time, making multiple bees, just so I would not have to deal with my problems. Even though I enjoyed doing this, it did not make me feel whole. It made me feel more empty because I was ignoring everything with a hobby instead of finding an actual solution. While going on a process of learning to process my emotions instead of ignoring it, I would crochet bees to help me cope along the way, so I did not feel like I was drowning myself. Crocheting became a way for me to deal with my emotions i n a way that is comfortable for me, a way that does not make me feel suffocated to the point where I feel like I cannot breathe. This is why I enjoy crocheting; because it helped me through tough times even if no one else was there. It helped me be comfortable in my own skin, comfortable processing my emotions without having a breakdown.

Friendships can come to you in unexpected ways, whether you are looking for one or not. Most people see friendships as a stranger you meet and become close with, but to me, I see friendships as something special, sacred and something to cherish. I have always preferred having a few close friends over having a lot of friends. Even though I know a lot of people, I see them more than acquaintances than friends. I have had a few close friends since middle school, and they are basically family to me. I spend a lot of time with them making memories, going through thick and thin. Friendship is not only a label, it is people who will stick with you no matter what, people who give their all to keep you in their life even if everything is going bad. People say that family is only people you are related to. I think of family as people who I trust completely, friendships mean family to me. Friendships make me feel safe, being with my friends makes me feel at home. Home is not only four walls and a roof, it is people who give you reasons to stay no matter what happens. Anything can happen in friendships, you can grow distant and have arguments, but what defines a friendship is if the people are still willing to try and make everything work because they do not want to lose each other. I define my friendships based on if the person backs their words up with actions. If we are going through a tough time in the friendship, I will try my best to fix everything but if they do not show the same energy back, did they really appreciate my friendship the whole time?

There are quite a few things about me that I like and dislike. I am very creative, a good listener, a hard worker, but I procrastinate, I have selective hearing, and I have quite a few bad habits. Honestly, not a lot of things motivate me besides my friends. My close friends motivate me to be a better version of myself and to chase after my dreams and ambitions. They help me realize that I can do whatever I put my mind too if I am passionate about it. Currently, I aspire to become a veterinarian, and I plan on doing that for my whole life. But if I did not have the option of becoming one, I would imagine myself wanting to travel the world as a photographer. Traveling has always been something I have longed to do, I want to try new foods, explore new cultures, view the beauties and bad sides of the world. Personally, traveling along with someone or a group of people is more of a longing I have than traveling by myself. I have always preferred to do things with others because being alone does not make be happy. Photographing my adventures not only for memories, but to share with others to make them feel like they were along with me. I want my photos to be able to come to life, to speak unspoken words through images and liveliness, to show people how amazing the world is inside and out, even if everything has been going downhill recently. Being able to bring fresh new ideas, ideas, and diversity to the STEM community makes me excited about working in it and studying in science. Working with animals has always been a passion of mine, and I am excited to bring new ideas and ways of running a clinic into light. I want to run a clinic where there is a diversity of species, not just common house pets. Being a black woman, I have a lot more eyes on me than someone who is a white male going into STEM fields. I want to be able to bring diversity and inclusion of more women and minorities into the STEM community to encourage young children of color that they are capable of being who they aspire to be. 9% of STEM workers are black, and 27% are women. With these low percentages, it makes you wonder what the percentage of black women in the STEM fields are. I believe that if I go after my dream of being a veterinarian, I can challenge the social economical racial exclusiveness and pay standards of the STEM force, and encourage others to challenge the system as well to enlighten more minorities and women to stand up for what they believe in, to be role models for children who look up to them. I want to be able to exceed societies expectations, and bring more women and minorities into the field without them being scared of being belittled and trampled on just because they look different from white men. Since the global pandemic, the world has been in chaos. Many state and nationwide quarantines, people getting sick, deaths, and school closings. Our schools told us we would only be put for 3 weeks, which turned into moths, and a whole entire school year. I have not faced a challenge as hard as when we had to do remote learning. Being a visual and hands on learner, I need to touch things and get demonstrations in person to be able top fully grasp the information I am being taught. Being stuck with remote learning my junior year of high school, it was harder for me to pay attention and understand what the teacher was talking about. In my freshman and sophomore year, I got excellent grades, and I was confident in my learning abilities. I felt dumb and mentally restricted when we had to do remote learning. I paid less attention in class, it took me longer to do my assignments and I always turned them in late, I failed a quarter of my English class, but even if I was doing bad, I managed to overcome it. In March, I got a job, my brother told me that I needed to keep my grades up if I wanted to keep my job. I managed to start focusing more, and even though I hated it, I managed to pull through with only one mishap. Now in my senior year of high school. I am still struggling trying to focus even though we are back to in person school. I enjoy school but have a love hate relationship with how everyone is doing when we got back from remote learning, the teachers are struggling trying to keep kids engaged, and getting people to get their work done. Furthermore, I personally do not enjoy high school now after everything that happened, but I am excited to continue my career when I go off to university.

 I come from a black family who grew up in Alaska. I have not been to Alaska, but my family would always tell stories about how fun it was where they grew up because our big family lived in the same neighborhood. When I grew up, my family and I all lived in proximity with each other. I grew up with a lot of cousins and even now, we see each other almost every day and I play games with some of them all day every day. People would describe me as a reserved but fun, chaotic person. I would describe myself as someone who cares a lot about people, who is a good listener who has selective hearing, and someone who works hard but procrastinates a lot. I may have a lot of flaws, but the good things overweight the bad.   Striving to become a veterinarian in the future, I am planning to attend Washington State University in fall of 2022 to study biology/pre-vet. Not only that, but I am going to get a bachelors degree in biology, and then go to a veterinary school to get my D.V.M. I am going to go to school for about 8 more years after I graduate high school, and I am somewhat ecstatic about it, but also not really. I am confident that I will be able to succeed in school, even though a lot of people do not have faith in me.     An obstacle that I have faced was when I was going through a depressive episode and no one was there to help me through it. My family is amazing, but they do not believe that mental health issues exist, so when I tell them I am struggling mentally, they just tell me I am too young to have any real problems. The biggest depressive episode I went through was during 2019, and it lasted for a few months. It was when I broke up with someone who I loved very dearly, and I did not know what to do with my life or myself after that. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, I talked to people less, and I only came out of my room to go to school, and to use the bathroom. I was struggling trying to keep myself happy and when I tried going to my family for help, but no one would listen.     End the end, I developed a bad habit of not talking about my emotions to anyone unless I could not handle it anymore. There was only one person who helped me through my episode, and it was my friend Thaoy. He did not just teach me how to be more open and to trust certain people, he taught me that even if no one but a few people stand by me, as long as I believe and love in myself that is all that matters. I learned that I am capable of dealing with tough situations by myself, and it is okay if I need help once in a while, but I should really and trust in myself more. Learning this has helped me be more confident, more blunt and assertive with what I want and need, and it has helped me deal with situations in a less chaotic manner than I did when I went into my depressive episode. I still have a lot to learn about myself, but I believe that everything takes time, and I am willing to wait for the time to come. 

I consider myself to be a very open-minded and chaotic person, in a good way, that is. My mind is always in chaos, thinking about multiple things at once or nothing at all. I have many bad habits, and I tend to be too nice to people, which is something I need to work on. I have many hobbies including crocheting, painting, playing video games, gardening, and pottery. Not only that, but I sometimes consider myself a good listener, but I have select hearing based on who is talking to me. I do not have a lot of inspiration besides my brother and my older friend Thaoy. My both has always been someone who has supported me throughout my life, even when my family would try to belittle me and put me down. My brother helped me pull through the trauma my family put me through by not believing about me and by not caring about my feelings when I needed them the most. He is my main inspiration for me to strive to be a better person. Ever since I was little, he would help me if I was struggling in school, and he would help me if I had any kind of problems. He would always be there for me and stand up for me. Even though he is busy now with a fancy job selling cars, he still tries to make time for me and to make sure I have the resources that I need to be successful in everyday life. '' I have known my friend Thaoy for about three years now. We met over discord in the summer of 2018, and he has since then become one of my closest friends. Without him, I would not be able to take care of myself or handle the situations that I have been through without going crazy. He has helped me through school work, relationship drama, self-hatred and helping me find self-love, and he has helped me immensely with planning everything out in a way that helps me understand things. I do not intend to create any type of technology, but I do plan to impact the veterinary world. I want to become a veterinarian for multiple areas of expertise like working with cats and dogs, birds, reptiles, etc. Furthermore, I want to create an environment in my clinic that I will eventually open up after I finish school and gain experience, to help not only animals, but their owners establish a sense of connection and trust with me. I want them to be able to rely on me and thank me, even if things do not go the way they hope it would go. I want to make an impact on the world by bringing more diversity to the STEM community. Not only that, but I am a black woman who is very determined to achieve my goals. There is a big struggle with black people trying to get jobs in STEM fields because it is a white dominated path. Eventually, when we do make it in, black people make significantly less money than white people who do the same job as them, and I want to get rid of those social economical standards and create ones that are fair to everyone, no matter what color of skin you have because in the end, people are not getting the same education and have the same knowledge and jobs just to get paid different wages.

 I have always struggled with loving myself and accepting myself for who I am because of how I grew up. I grew up in a judgmental and hypocritical family who believes that they are always right because they are the grownups. My cousins and I had, and still have to, deal with our family comparing us to one another and putting us down because some of us get bad grades and some do not. Meeting friends and new people have helped me learn to start ignoring what my family says, and they have encouraged me to listen to what I want to do, not what others want for me. The characteristic I value most about myself is that I am strong emotionally and physically and I am able to handle tough situations.      I have a few close friends, and knowing them for years has helped me get to know them, and me, better. Before I met my friends that I have now, I would always be scared about what my family and other people thought about me. My family would always tell me that I need to get good grades and I need to do this, or do that, and if I did not do what they told me to do, I would fail in life. These situations have made me develop an unhealthy habit of pushing myself way past my limits to the point where I stop taking care of myself because I am stressed, and I am focusing on getting everything done. One of my friends in particular have helped me listen to what my body needs physically and mentally, and they have helped me plan things out, so I am not doing everything all at once.      I am still learning how to take care of myself more, and I am still learning how to cope with stressful situations, but sometimes I get very overwhelmed.  Have learned how to manage my time better because the tough times my family put me through taught me how to get things done before doing things that I want to do. I guess this is what people mean when trauma makes you stronger, but it did not make me stronger, my friends made me stronger. The trauma I went through up until now made me more traumatized, but my friends helped me cope, and they helped me get over my trauma enough to where I am not thinking about it all the time.      I feel like having the strength that I have now will help me in the long run because I am wanting to go into a white dominated field as a black woman. I want to become a veterinarian not only to prove to my family that I can do things I put my mind to, but also to encourage and inspire young black kids that they are worthy, and they are able to do things even if society thinks lowly of them. I want to break social standards and social economic pay that gives black people less pay than white people. Not only that, but I want to be able to do what I want to do, and become what I want to be, without someone stopping me because they feel I am not capable enough. Having this characteristic has made me strong mentally, and it has given me more courage and self-love to do the things that I am really passionate about.

Looking through Instagram and Pinterest, I always see these amazing pieces of art. I myself love painting, but I do not have as much of a passion for it as do the people I see make their art. My favorite artist is Qing Han (@qinniart). I personally did not know them, but their art spoke to me in ways that words are not able to comprehend. My favorite piece of art from Qing Han is untitled, but it was drawn based on her Fibrosis Sarcoma cancer. This piece of art has made me very emotional, and it helped me see how someone else was coping and relaying their struggles through art and not words. Qinni's art has made me want to become a better artist. She has made me want to learn how to express my emotions through my art because I struggle intensely at expressing my emotions in person. Even if I am close with someone, it takes me years to be able to talk about my emotions to them because I feel like a burden. Through art, I can put my emotions in hidden or deeper meanings than what words would not be able to say. The piece of art is a girl with bandages being consumed. Qing Han interpreted this has her struggling with her cancer, and it feels like she is getting consumed more by it every day. I relate to this on a lesser level by me feeling like I am being consumed by stress, depression, anxiety, and pressure. This inspires me because it makes me realize that even though Qing Han was being consumed by her cancer, she would still make art. She would do the things she loved up until death. She inspires me to keep pushing even though it's hard.

Reading books has always been something I have loved doing. I am able to read for hours at a time, and I can complete a 500 paged book in a day if I tried hard enough. Books have always been my way to escape reality and to drown everything else out. I bury my nose in all the books I read, and they are all inspiring to me in one way or another. I have multiple favorite books but the one that has inspired me the most is Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Furthermore, I read this book during my sophomore year of high school. I found it in my school's library while looking for poem books. I heard about the book before because it was recommended to me by a friend, but I forgot about it until I saw it again. This book has become one of my most read books, and every time I reread it, I learn something new. This book starts off with two guys who meet each other at a swimming pool, one of them who can swim well and one who cannot. The story progresses as them becoming friends, and questioning their sexuality, to them figuring out their emotions but being scared, and then finally accepting it and going in. This story has inspired me to stop being scared of myself, my emotions and my sexuality, and it helped me learn that it is okay if I don't fit societies social standards, as long as I am happy with myself and my decisions. The book encouraged me to take risks, go on adventures, find love and happiness, and just jump in to things that excite me and to stop being scared of the unknown because everything has its own journey.

   I am part of a club called PRISM. It used to be called GSA before the club got a new advisor and president. I am the VP and our goals are currently to remodel and beautify a garden that was made in memorial of the previous GSA president who committed suicide. Her name was Raven. The members of the previous GSA club created the garden, but it was forgotten. Our club goal is to bring together not only people who are part of the LGBTQ+ community, but people who want to make an impact on our schools' community as well. We want to make our school a safer place for people to feel like they can be themselves without being judged or watched.      Our club has plans to restore the garden and create a place where people who are not only part of PRISM, but also people who feel like they need an escape to somewhere safe. We want the garden to be a beautiful place with a central tree, flowers and herbs, stone pathways and benches where people can sit and chill at during lunch and passing times. We want to be able to show Raven that we still remember her and that our school is trying its best to keep her legacy alive.          The president of the club and I are trying our best to complete it before we go off to college in a few months. We want to be able to leave the club with someone who has a passion for it and someone who really cares for it. We really want to make our school a  safer and better place for all the students. Furthermore, we plan on starting fundraisers and selling things approved by our school to be able to make money to succeed.

   Animals have always been something I am passionate about. I have chosen to become a veterinarian because my love for animals outgrows my fears of failing to save them, or failing to not be able to make it to veterinarian school. I strive to become a veterinarian because I want to be able to help people and their animals. Two years ago, I owned a pet hamster. My hamster got sick, and I was devastated because no clinics around me were able to treat hamsters. The nearest one was 30 minutes away, and my mom did not want to drive that far. I want to become a veterinarian because I want to be able to help people keep their animals in their lives for a long as possible. I strive for people to be able to rely on me in the future to save their animals. Furthermore, I want to be a vet who helps no matter what time of day it is and no matter what type of animal it is.      I desire to become a veterinarian who not only focuses on one type of animals, one who has expertise and diversity in treating multiple types of animals. I want to be able to treat cats and dogs, rodents, birds, and reptiles. I want people to be able to have faith in me that I can take care of their pets, who are basically their family members but with more hair on their bodies. Not only do I want to have diversity with animals, but I want to have diversity with the clients and my staff. Being a black woman wanting to become a veterinarian, it is challenging because the medical field does not have a lot of black people in it because it is mainly dominated by white people. I want to be able to create an environment where my staff and clients can relate to me and trust me because I understand what they are feeling. I want to challenge the social and economical standards and I want to make a pay that I deserve, not a pay that someone else thinks I deserve just because of my skin color.      Realistically speaking, I wish I did not have to find ways to pay for college. I have been applying to many scholarships. I did my FAFSA, and I plan on taking on student loans and grants if I do not earn enough money through scholarships. I am aware that my family is not willing to help me pay for college because they have other expenses to worry about. Throughout my life, my mom has kept telling me to not peruse a career that will take years of going to school because of how expensive it will be. I plan to use this scholarship to help me accomplish that dream.    In 10 years, I aspire to be able to graduate University with a bachelors degree, and then apply to Veterinary school to obtain my D.V.M. I will start off helping at animal hospitals and clinics throughout my years of school, and a few years after I graduate medical school before I plan on opening my own clinic. I will have a lot of things to learn in 10 years, and even more after that. I aspire to become a role model for black children and other minorities who struggle getting the encouragement and recognition they deserve for succeeding and trying to succeed in a white dominated field of study. I want them to be able to know that they are strong, and they can accomplish great things.  

Adversity can be a challenging thing to go through, no matter how big or small it is/was. When I was little, I did not understand the meaning of poverty or how much a person could struggle. I came from a family who struggled growing up, so they raised me and my cousins by giving us as much as they could. A time I overcame adversity was when I was still in elementary school, and my mom had the summer off.    Looking back on that summer, I was very happy. Being the small naïve kid that I was, I did not understand why my mom had the summer off, but I was happy because I got to spend time with her. From the start of my life up until I started middle school, my mom would bring me and my little sister to our aunts house during the weekdays, so she could go to work. My family has always been pretty close, we have about 20 family members who we spend time with every week and all holidays. After school, my cousins and I would walk back to our aunts house, and we would play outside until my mom came back.   During the summers, our parents would drop us off back at our aunts house, and we called it Camp Auntie Carm. We would do small dumb stuff including making mud cakes, have rock fights, build trains out of toy cars, we would go to libraries and on walks (supervised of course). The one summer that my mom had off, was personally the best and worse summer that I had.    Even though I did not really care about anything else but my mom hanging out with me, I also cared about how my mom was feeling. I could tell that she was very stressed, even though she tried to make everything fun and enjoyable for us. My mom would start buying less, and she would stop taking us to places that cost money. I was sad about not being able to go to the places I want to go, and looking back on it, I was a very spoiled child. I did not understand that my mom was going through a hard time, and I did not choose to understand until I got older.   Learning how my mom felt during those times has helped me understand more about my family. During that summer, we moved into an apartment. We lived there for about two years and I started middle school. After the first year, my mom found another job. We started getting free meals during school, and extra help outside it. Even though my struggles are not as big as others, it taught me that bad things can happen even if everything has worked out your whole life. Your world can change in an instant, and that helped me start appreciating the opportunities I have gained for myself and the opportunities my mom has struggled to provide me with.

Being a black teenager and wanting to go into white male-dominated fields, can be nerve-racking. When people think of STEM careers and education, they mainly think of math or engineering. People think of those things and they instantly think of white males. For centuries, people have stuck with STEM being mainly white men, but back then and even now, black people are getting more confident to join the STEM fields. I am passionate about STEM because there is not enough black representation, and I want to be someone that black kids and other minorities look up to. Since I was a kid, I have always wanted to become a veterinarian. The first-ever black representation of veterinarians I came across was Doc McStuffins. Granted, this is a fictional kid show about a black girl who treats her stuffed toys; I was so happy to see someone who looked like me and be extremely passionate about what they wanted to do. This Disney Channel kids show was the first thing that encouraged me to pursue a career in veterinary sciences. I believe that having a lot of black representation in kids' shows is very important because it lets them feel connected to the character and helps them relate to them more. You will see many videos on social media of black kids reacting to seeing another black character in their favorite show for example Spiderman: Into The Spider-Verse; The kids are ecstatic because they finally have a character that they can connect to because they share the same skin color. I am passionate about STEM because I want to be able to show society that black people are way more than the color of their skin. We are smart emotionally and intellectually, we can do whatever a white person can do, and we should be able to get the same education and opportunities as white people. Just because the color of our skin is different, does not mean that it is okay to treat us any differently. Becoming a vet has made me realize that it is going to be a hard thing to accomplish. A lot of eyes are going to be on me when I go to university when I try and hopefully get accepted into Vet school, and then when I finally achieve my goal. So much pressure comes with being a black person, especially a black female who wants to enter STEM fields. People are going to try to belittle me, tell me I should give up, that I will not make it, but I believe in myself. I am passionate about my dreams and goals, I am passionate that I can make a difference and encourage more black representation. Representation is not the only thing I am passionate about in STEM. I am passionate about becoming a veterinarian because I want to be able to offer things that the vets in my city do not offer. When I had a pet hamster over a year ago, none of the veterinarians in my area would allow care on animals unless it was the emergency vet clinic which was super expensive. Not having a way to get there was a struggle as well. I want to be able to provide people not only care for cats and dogs, but care for small animals, exotic animals, and birds. I want to be able to have people come to me in emergencies or not, no matter what time of day so they have less of a chance of losing their beloved pet.

Many people have started to stand up for not only having more women in STEM careers but also more black people. Diversity is very important in everyday society, but it is also important in major fields of work and study, where people of any age or race should be able to express their love and interests for what they are passionate about. I believe that it is incredibly important to have diverse representation in STEM because not only does it encourage young black children to stand up for what they want to do, but it helps them believe that society is trying to be better for the newer generations and encourage people to do the careers what they want, even if others stand in their way. STEM careers have been dominated by white men for centuries. Society has made people believe that women who are black are not intellectually capable to be successful in STEM careers and education. Being a black woman who wants to go to college to become a veterinarian, I have felt a lot of pressure and eyes on me because I want to go into a white-dominated field. This has put a lot of stress and pressure on me because I feel like society will try to make me fail. Growing up, I have always felt underrepresented and looked down on because people believed that I wouldn't be able to meet the same expectations as a white child. When I got to high school, I started focusing more on my education, and I made sure that I got good grades every semester and every year. I went into hard classes to further my intelligence and now being a senior in high school, I have exceeded the expectations of not only the people who have doubted me but also the expectations of my family. Black people make up about 2.1 % percent of veterinarians. this is an incredibly low number especially for such a popular field of study and careers. Veterinarians have been in high demand for years, and it is sad to hear that only 2.1% of veterinarians are black people. Even if a field is in high demand, society wants it to be in high demand for white people. Even the pay wages are focused on helping out white people more than black people. The big gap between wages is explained in the requirements section of this scholarship, this shows how much society favors white people over black people because they do not like change. If a black person is doing the same job as a white person, same quality or better, they should be getting paid the same wages, but they are not and that sucks. This belittles black people because it sets them up for failure to peruse something they are incredibly passionate about. I believe that having more black people in STEM fields is important because people deserve to have role models to look up to and to encourage them that they can do anything they set their mind to, even if society is trying to beat them down every step they take. It is incredibly important to me as a black person that we talk about and encourage more black people to peruse STEM careers if they are passionate about it. We need to show that we will not let people walk over us any longer, and we will exceed their low expectations by a landslide. Black people make up 9% of stem workers, and that low number saddens me because we are amazing and deserve to be recognized.