Throughout high school, I never really made many friends. Finding someone to sit at lunch, someone to work with, or someone to share experiences with became the most terrifying experience that I've ever dealt with in my life. I never want someone to go through what I experienced... There was this kid that I remembered seeing during my senior year, and this was in my physics class. Everyone in the class knew each other, practically the whole class was friends. But, I specifically remember that he sat at this one table all to himself. Immediately I started seeing him as though it were me. Seeing him sitting alone really reminded me of how I was him throughout my years in high school-lonely. It hit a soft spot in me. I couldn't see him sitting alone, while other people in my class treated him as though he was invisible. It made me cry on the inside. So I approached him. I asked him his name and well... Seeing the pain that someone goes through, feels as though I'm witnessing the pain that my past self went through. It is something that I can't watch, as it cuts deep. My experiences are reminders to me that other people are mirrors of my past. Where those experiences force me to resort to wanting to comfort them and love them as that is what my past self would've wanted, and likely what someone in pain would want too.

I always loved my parents. They always did everything they could to make sure my life was comfortable and that is something that I'll never forget... With my parents, I always felt that the love that they provided was the type of love that can't be replicated nor replaced. A parent's love to me is rather unique as it is a special type of bond between them and their children. The way my mother described it to me is that when you're able to create life it feels entirely different as the life that you created essentially contains an aspect of you. I never really wanted to ask for much from my parents, as it didn't feel right. What made me happy the most is just being loved and it's that type of love that I feel will someday eventually be lost forever. Love that I feel was unconditional. Whenever I misbehaved or caused them grief, my parents never stopped loving me and I don't think that type of love can ever be found in a stranger. Truly it's the love that I feel is bound by blood... It's the love that I will cherish in my heart, as I understand that there will be a day where that love won't be there forever. My parent's love for me is what makes me happy the most. As it is the love that is unique and can never be replicated by anyone else but the two people who gave me the gift of life.

I wondered to myself, is it me? The true me? Looking at people on social media having fun with their friends and living that "high school experience" always made me feel as though there were something wrong with me. I didn't feel as though I were the "average teen" that most people would expect-care free and living in the moment. For the most part, I was a rather shy and introverted teen. I tried my best to change myself. I tried being more outgoing, more of a social butterfly, and more bubbly. But, deep down inside I knew it felt wrong. I was just playing a character. It felt as though I was punishing myself for being me, repressing the true me, the me who knew myself better than anyone. I wasn't a social butterfly, I wasn't outgoing, and I wasn't bubbly. I knew this, and I knew that it is something that I can't change no matter how hard I try. I had to learn to embrace who I am, not treated as though it were an illness. Who cares about whether people are more social than me? If I'm not that type of person then what's the good in forcing myself to be someone I'm not? So what if I'm introverted and shy? That's my identity, that is who I am. I can't change that. If I were to change myself to fit people's expectations then they are not going to value my actual true self. My honesty for myself comes from how I value myself. Trends, people, and expectations only give you value because you have adorned yourself with short-term pleasures just to feel like you belong. I value myself by being numb to such influences, only I can place value on myself.

I thought to myself What am I going to do? How did it get this bad? I was thrilled at the fact that my school was going to shift over to online learning as a result of the pandemic. I didn't need to deal with waking up early or any obnoxious classmates. It seemed as though it was something that was too good to pass... As the new school year rolled around I was getting adjusted to the new online learning program, it was fairly straight forward get all the work done before the deadline and you'll be fine. Although, there was just one small issue with this... The program's assignments had all the answers available online, which left the door open for people to not actually learn but to rush the assignments just so that all the school work could be done. Knowing this, the temptation of freedom from my work felt as though it was one Google search away and I took full advantage of it. Reality set in and I realized that I did not learn a single thing during the whole semester and all I learned during that time was how to use the copy and paste keys on my laptop. I thought to myself What am I going to do? How did it get this bad? I had to take responsibility, I needed to relearn everything in the semester in order to compensate for the damage that I've caused. Which meant that I had to sacrifice my summer. I studied till my fingers were bones and spent hours studying into the night to ensure that I understood all the material. But through that agony, it paid off, as in the following school year I was able to achieve straight A's and a solid 3.9 GPA.

During the year 2014, my family received news that my two cousins in the UK who were at the time in their teens were both facing issues regarding their mental health. More precisely they were dealing with paranoid schizophrenia and what didn't help was that their parents and their relatives didn't know how to deal with it. It was more of a taboo to talk about mental illness as their parents were immigrants and generally had limited knowledge regarding how to handle mental health. The resulting repercussions of ill knowledge of mental illness caused my two cousins condition to spiral out of control, where to this day they had to be kept in mental institutions or are on government assistance as it has gotten so severe to the point where there were instances where my cousins weren’t safe to be around people or alone. Which at the time was oblivious to me, because I was a child back then and my parents, rightfully so, refused to share information about them as it was mainly an adult matter. However, during these oncoming years, I slowly found out the situation that had occurred among my two cousins. I was rather saddened to have found out that most of what they went through and what they had to deal with was all preventable. If my aunt, who was the mother of them had adequate information and had gotten rid of that stigma of mental illness, all of what my cousins had suffered would’ve just been nonexistent. I always wondered how many other people are dealing with the same thing, unable to get help due to the cost or family stigmas and cultural norms preventing them from speaking up about it. The United States in general has a rather bad reputation when it comes to dealing with mental health, and it isn’t surprising as our healthcare system is privatized and broken. Which causes issues of people being unable to afford care for their mental health and even if they can afford it, there aren’t that many resources that are put towards mental health. Now, why is that? The simple reason is the fact that mental health isn’t profitable. Hospitals and medical care facilities are businesses in the US and like any business, they want to make money. This means that they won’t fund or focus on anything that they can’t earn a profit on. Which, in this case, is mental health. I sympathize with those with mental illness as it’s hit me personally in my family. Looking at the statistics and reports that mental illness is worsening in this country. I started to sympathize with those that are experiencing mental illness, as the failure of my aunt to resolve my cousins' illnesses made me rather sad. I want to ensure that those in my life with mental illness get the love and support that they need from family, as there's no one they can turn to. I mean, to be honest when my cousins started to develop schizophrenia my grandparents and aunt just ignored and turned a blind eye towards them. Which is honestly sad. However, I understand the attitude towards mental health due to the lack of education and awareness surrounding it. People who are mentally ill need support, patience, understanding, empathy, and rehabilitation. Medication isn’t the solution, as they are only short-term fixes that yield low returns. Mental health needs to be treated in stages, people who suffer from mental health must have adequate resources. Employing trained professionals in mental health fields can yield many efficient results as they can provide community outreach to those facing challenges in regards to their mental wellbeing. Throwing mental health patients into hospitals is not suitable as this solution creates a cycle where they constantly need to go to a hospital due to ill facilities that specialize in mental health. There is no guarantee that mental health will be resolved or taken seriously in the US, but raising awareness will at least bring some hope.