Endurance Through Creation and Representation My ever-present connection to writing has always been beyond my control. When first introduced to the creative outlet, I felt complete; like a piece was falling into place. A piece that I didn't know was missing. When writing, I could pour my fervent mind and wild imagination into the work, and it was all mine. I was no longer burdened by fear of judgement because I could create something tangible that satisfied my need to be heard without anyone ever having to read it. It became liberating to write something to help myself work through complicated feelings and then figuratively or literally throw it away. I could escape into worlds of grandeur and places I had never explored before. Discovering and facing my identity as a queer woman has been extremely isolating. I was left with a multitude of feelings, good and bad, with no one to tell. I seemingly had nowhere to put the simultaneous sensations of shame, guilt, liberation, fear, confusion, frustration, and elation. However, I did what I have always done. The only action that has been the constant in my life when nothing was clear. I wrote, for it was all I had. When my scrambled emotions only became more tangled, I could write and start to embrace them. Trying to live the life I love in a small conservative town has been grueling, to say the least. Just last week I couldn’t help but be brought to tears by an insufferable conversation I overheard, and I can't stop thinking about it. For them it was a simple conversation, something to fill the time. But the only thing I believe it filled was the pure hate that lives in their hearts and the hearts of many around me. The topic of discussion included trans and gay rights, frankly it was why they believe we shouldn’t possess rights. It’s exhausting for my communities’ livelihood to be reduced to casual conversation, like the weather. I used to get angry at this harmful rhetoric, but now I have become drained and desensitized. I only hope to see a day where I can love unbothered and unabashed. Not to be naive, but I believe university might give me that. My focal goal in writing is simple, to make people feel seen and represented. I remember the first time I read a book with a lesbian story as the central plot. It wasn’t too long ago because I was never given access to tangible copies of openly queer books. It’s funny to think about now because I was so nervous when I bought the book. But, the feeling of representation reading it gave me was unforgettable. It was weirdly such a big step in accepting myself that I couldn’t resist crying, but not like before. I used to find myself sobbing because I was so lost and didn’t understand why this was happening to me. This time, I was so grateful and relieved to be able to relate to something. All I want is to give that gift to someone else. Even if I am able to help one person, I will be utterly fulfilled.