She sat there, not knowing what to write in the blank box in front of her. "who's your biggest hero?" it questioned. She had no idea what to write in that space on the first day of Fifth-grade math class, when she hadn't yet realized how much the one person in her life deserved this title. The girl never realized everything that her mother had done for her until she was older; her mom had just been that good at hiding the struggle she had gone through. The girl that I write of is myself, years and years ago, before my life changed more than I thought possible. For years, my mother had worked to keep our small family afloat, harder than anyone should be allowed to work. When I begged her to play three different sports in the same year, she paid the fees and signed me up for all of them with no hesitation. When I needed to go from place to place for these three sports, she picked me up and took me every time. She was always there, just appearing when needed like a genie, and she granted all those wishes every single time. My mother worked two jobs to send me to school, take me on vacations, spoil me with gifts, and pay for sports, and this incredibly amazing woman impacted my life the most, and I will always cherish that. I was 10 when my dad up and ran out on us, but my mom never ran; for some reason, she's so good at walking through life with me instead. My mom has taught me so many things in my life, like how to make a bed, cook scrambled eggs, and read a chapter book, but she has taught me so much more than just simple life skills. My mom had taught me ambition; she never settled for what she could get from the bare minimum. She worked hours upon hours of overtime, just to afford those few extra Christmas gifts over the holidays. She gifted me that drive, the drive to go above the rest, and do the best I could. Thanks to her, I've never settled for the bare minimum. Another thing that my mother gave me was persistence. I've heard too many horror stories of women in her position who have given up in all ways possible. My mom never gave up, and I could never figure out how. She showed me that you can get what you want if you keep going and don't give in to the darkness. My mother has always had her own light, and she kept that flame burning, even while she shared that radiance with a light-hungry world that only wanted to steal from her. My mother also taught me how to treat others; she does so much, yet doesn't force others to see everything she's done or appreciate it. In that way, she has raised humble and kind children who treat others with equal respect. I thoroughly believe that she is warmth in a universe of cold; she is truly an incredible woman. Looking at her and knowing the woman she truly is, I could never sit back and think badly of her. I strive to be the woman she is, even i can truly be everything that she is, I have always lived like her. The girl looks down at her paper and slowly writes in a pink glitter pen, "I don't know", because she was so fortunate that she never even had to realize everything that her mom had done for her.

Selective mutism is like a fire alarm blaring endlessly in your head, warning of a danger that isn't really there. Since elementary school, I've rehearsed conversations before they even began, convinced that people would mock me in private or talk to me only out of pity. This constant cycle of second-guessing has kept me from forming many friendships. When someone started a conversation, I often gave them a quick smile or a brief reply, assuming their words were motivated by obligation rather than genuine interest. This fear didn't just stay in my head; it affected my everyday life. At school, I often chose to sit alone at lunch rather than risk rejection by asking to join someone I knew. Whenever I heard laughter in the hallway, I assumed it was aimed at the way I walked or the way I dressed that day. It felt like living in a self-built reality, one where I picked apart every flaw and convinced myself that everyone else saw the mistakes. What began as a small childhood insecurity grew into a barrier that kept me on the outside of friendships and opportunities. I'm 17 now, and I can't say that I've completely silenced my selective mutism, but instead I've learned to recognize those thoughts for what they really are- fears instead of facts. My voice has value, and sometimes vulnerability is worth it for a connection. Progress for me hasn't been eliminating selective mutism, but rather not letting it control every step I take. For me, college is a big step into growing. I have never thought about even getting into college. When I take this big step, all of the nerves will try to get to me, but I will not let them. I will live my dream to be a pilot, I will be the first in my family to go to college, I will do it for me, my family, and my life ahead. I know I won't leave selective mutism behind when I go into college, but I will be aware of the lessons it has given me and take those small steps even when I'm afraid- because even a single sentence- like a compliment on someone's outfit can brighten their entire day. I will take those risks and join clubs, go out more, and build connections I once held back from. The fire alarm in my head hasn't gone silent, but it no longer stops me from moving forward.

She sat there, not knowing what to write in the blank box in front of her. "who's your biggest hero?" it questioned. She had no idea what to write in that space on the first day of Fifth-grade math class, when she hadn't yet realized how much the one person in her life deserved this title. The girl never realized everything that her mother had done for her until she was older; her mom had just been that good at hiding the struggle. The girl that I write of is myself, years and years ago, before my life changed more than I thought possible. For years, my mother had worked to keep our small family afloat, harder than anyone should be allowed. When I begged her to play three different sports in the same year, she paid the fees and signed me up for all of them. When I needed to go from place to place for these sports, she picked me up and took me every time. She was always there, just appearing when needed like a genie, and she granted all those wishes. My mother worked two jobs to send me to school, take me on vacations, and pay for sports, and this incredibly amazing woman impacted my life the most. I was 10 when my dad ran out on us, but my mom never ran; for some reason, she's so good at walking through life with me instead. My mom has taught me so many things in my life, like how to make a bed, cook scrambled eggs, and read a chapter book, but she has taught me so much more than just simple life skills. My mom had taught me ambition; she never settled for what she could get from the bare minimum. She worked hours upon hours of overtime, just to afford those few extra Christmas gifts over the holidays. She gifted me that drive, the drive to go above the rest, and do the best I could. Thanks to her, I've never settled for the bare minimum. Another thing that my mother gave me was persistence. I've heard too many horror stories of women in her position who have given up in all ways possible. My mom never gave up, and I could never figure out how. She showed me that you can get what you want if you keep going and don't give in to the darkness. My mother has always had her own light, and she kept that flame burning, even while she shared that radiance with a light-hungry world that only wanted to steal from her. My mother also taught me how to treat others; she does so much, yet doesn't force others to see everything that she has done or appreciate it. In that way, she has raised humble and kind children who treat others with equal respect. I thoroughly believe that she is warmth in a universe of cold; she is truly an incredible woman. The girl looks down at her paper and slowly writes in a pink glitter pen, "I don't know", because she was so fortunate that she never even had to realize everything that her mom had done for her.

The bags under my mother’s eyes are a symbol of her strength and dedication. These subtle but profound marks, etched beneath her eyes, reveal a story of unwavering perseverance and commitment that has left an undeniable mark on my life. My mother, a parent at 17, has navigated life’s challenges with a grace and determination that have and will always inspire me. Those bags under her eyes are a testament to the life struggles she experienced. They are a reflection of the selfless sacrifices she made, choosing mine and my brother's well-being and safety as a child over her struggles. My mother’s strength shone through in her resilience during tough times. Life threw its share of curveballs her way. She was raised by people who thought drugs were better than their own two children, getting put into the system, then getting adopted by their aunt and uncle. The curveball continues when her husband began to do the same thing her parents did, choosing drugs. He left her with no choice but to raise two young kids by herself. The life she knew was drugs; she had two options: become what she knew or change and be better than the people who were supposed to show her love and life. That never stopped my mom; she was a survivor, determined to live, and those bags under her eyes became a visual representation of her tenacity in the face of many challenges. As I reflect on the symbolism of the bags under my mother’s eyes, I am reminded of the values she instilled in me. These values have not only shaped my character but have also fueled my own pursuit of excellence. I have learned that success often comes with sacrifice, that dedication is the cornerstone of achievement, and that the strength to endure hardships is a testament to one’s character. I wish to become half the person my mother is. After all, the bags under my mother’s eyes are not a mere physical feature but a powerful symbol of her strength and dedication. They are a silent narrative of a life lived with purpose and love. I am grateful for the lessons they have taught me and inspired by the example she continues to set. As I embark on my life’s journey, I know I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps, but I’m blessed to want to follow in my mom’s. I know life will carve those bags under my eyes, but they will be bags of hard work and a determination to create a life that my mother will be proud of, and one I will be proud of myself in. No matter how hurt I have been in my life because of my dad, I will always think of how my mom has felt, while making me feel so much better through it all. Getting into college will be the biggest accomplishment, seeing as I'm the first in my family to go. My mom will always be my reason. I have got to do everything in life with love, compassion, hard working and courage.