To me, nursing is more than a profession—it’s a promise. A promise to show up not just under hospital lights, but in the hushed, sacred spaces where fear lives. In quiet moments—when someone is hurting, overlooked, or unheard—nursing is the hand that doesn’t flinch, the voice that doesn’t rush, the presence that says, “You’re not alone.” Nursing called to me; I just knew. Growing up in a Black, working-class community, I watched loved ones face a healthcare system that didn’t love them back. I remember my neighbor turned away from a clinic for being fifteen minutes late. My cousin gasped through an asthma attack, his family choosing between an inhaler and groceries. In my household, pills were stretched, appointments skipped, hoping nothing serious happened. These weren’t rare tragedies—they were routine. This ignited a fire in me that still burns: care should never be a luxury. Nurses are advocates, witnesses, protectors of dignity. That belief took root volunteering at a high school food pantry. Simple beginnings, but it became deeper. I saw grandmothers raising babies, parents going without meals, elders reminding me of my own family. I wasn’t just handing out food—I was handing out humanity: a smile, a moment, a pause in a hard day. I came back week after week because it mattered. That’s when I learned the first truth of nursing: to care is to consistently, intentionally, show up. That same year, I volunteered at a local nursing home. I met Sasha, an elder who spent most days alone, without visitors. Every time we painted or stretched, her face lit up. I wasn’t a nurse—just a teenager with patience—but I was there. Enough to remind her she wasn’t forgotten. That’s what nursing is. It’s not just treatment plans. It’s remembering. It’s presence. It’s love that moves without needing credit. Two years later, I still show up. Every visit reminds me: this is not a hobby. This is a calling. As a first-generation college student, I’ve carried more than books—financial stress, imposter syndrome, the weight of wondering if my dreams were too big for where I come from. I’ve fought through self-doubt, sleepless nights wondering how I’ll afford textbooks or tuition. But still—I persist. My purpose is louder than my fear. I don’t just want to be a nurse. I want to redefine care. One who brings cultural competence to every interaction. I’m particularly drawn to labor and delivery, believing deeply in ushering in the next generation, especially within historically underserved communities. I want to be the nurse who holds space for Black maternal health, for every voice, for patients whose stories deserve to be heard as clearly as their symptoms. I want to make someone feel they matter—because they do. This scholarship wouldn’t just ease a financial burden—it would amplify the work I’ve already begun. I’m not asking for help to start caring; I’ve consistently, intentionally, given everything. I’m asking for help so I can keep going. Because the girl who stocked food pantry shelves at 16, assisted senior residents at 18, is pursuing her BSN to graduate at 21. She’s still showing up. And with your support, she’ll keep showing up—for every patient, elder, and community who’s ever been told they don’t matter. To me, nursing is radical, everyday love in motion. It is fierce, soft strength. It is devotion without applause. And it is exactly what I am here to do.

My name is Athea Williams, and I am a first-generation college student determined to rewrite the narrative for myself and my family. I come from a household built on hustle and heart—where everyone pitched in, whether it was closing up our small family store late at night or helping take care of my younger siblings after school. There were no handouts, no shortcuts—just grit, sacrifice, and a quiet belief that I could be the one to carry us forward. I graduated high school with a 3.8 GPA while balancing a full schedule of extracurriculars and family responsibilities. I was a member of the National Honor Society, Student Council, Art Club, and Journalism, and I wrote for our school newspaper. My days were packed, but I learned early how to manage my time, work under pressure, and still show up with purpose and passion. I didn’t do it for recognition—I did it because I knew that education was my bridge to something bigger. Now, I’m a nursing major at Howard University with a clear vision: I want to specialize in labor and delivery or pediatrics. There is something powerful about helping bring life into the world, and equally powerful about protecting and nurturing that life once it’s here. I want to be the kind of nurse that young mothers and scared families remember—not just for what I did, but for how I made them feel seen, safe, and supported. My drive to pursue nursing comes from both personal experience and purpose. I’ve watched Black families—mine included—be dismissed, misdiagnosed, or misunderstood by the healthcare system. I want to be part of the change. I want to be the face in the room that says, “I see you. I’ve been you. And I’m here to help.” College hasn’t been easy, but I’ve met the challenge head-on. I’ve pushed through long nights, difficult labs, and the self-doubt that sometimes creeps in when you’re forging a new path without a blueprint. I’ve learned to ask for help when I need it, to celebrate small wins, and to take care of myself—mentally, emotionally, and physically—so I can keep showing up for others. Receiving this scholarship would not just help lighten the financial load—it would be a vote of confidence in a future nurse who is already doing the work, who has already proven she can rise. I’m not just here to earn a degree. I’m here to make an impact. Thank you for considering my application and for investing in students like me—students with purpose, with heart, and with a vision for a better, more compassionate future in healthcare.

When we moved to Lansford, Pennsylvania, I didn’t fully understand why. I was eleven, and my sister had just passed away in the hospital. My parents didn’t talk about it much, but everything around me changed. The house felt heavier. The air was quieter. Brooklyn and Atlanta—places full of movement and family—were behind us. Lansford was still. Rural. Isolating. But that silence was where I started to grow up. We came to Pennsylvania for a fresh start, but starting over didn’t mean things got easier. We struggled to keep housing. We moved often. I remember watching my parents split bills on paper at the kitchen table, stretching every dollar with no room for mistakes. We had no family nearby, no backup plan—only each other. I carried that with me into school. There wasn’t space for excuses. I had to show up, focus, and keep moving, even when everything around me felt uncertain. That mindset still shapes me today. I’m a first-generation college student and Nursing major at Howard. I didn’t get here by luck—I got here by being intentional. I stay up late reviewing material because I know how hard my parents worked just for me to have this chance. I chose nursing because it demands patience, compassion, and real responsibility—qualities I’ve had to grow into from a young age. Losing my sister showed me what it feels like to be pushed to the margins in a place that’s supposed to provide care, especially for families like mine. No one explained anything. We were just expected to figure it out. I want to be the kind of nurse who doesn’t assume, who talks to patients like their life matters, because it does. Outside the classroom, I’ve committed myself to growing in every direction I can. As a campus reporter for The Hilltop, I write about the issues students actually talk about—what affects them on and off campus. It’s taught me how to ask the right questions, manage tight deadlines, and take real responsibility for every sentence I publish. In Volunteer et Veritas, I serve through outreach, often working with communities that are underserved medically or economically. That’s where the textbooks come to life. I see the gaps in our system up close—and that keeps me grounded in my goals. I also meet weekly with peers in the Writers Guild, where we share, edit, and reflect on our own narratives. That space helps me keep my voice strong, even when everything else feels overwhelming. And through the College Medical Mentoring Program, I get guidance from doctors and healthcare professionals who look like me and understand what it means to push through systems that weren’t designed for us. None of these commitments are just for résumé-building. They’re how I hold myself accountable. I’ve seen what it looks like to struggle in silence, and I’m building a life where I don’t just escape that reality—I help others out of it, too. This scholarship would do more than ease a financial burden. I’ve already taken the steps toward building the life I want. I’m asking for support not out of weakness, but because I know what I’m capable of with the right resources behind me. Everything I’ve done—every class, every story, every act of service—has been an effort to turn difficult beginnings into meaningful impact. I didn’t choose my circumstances, but I’m choosing what I do with them. That choice, every single day, is why I’m here.

Growing up as the oldest daughter in a family of eight, I learned early on the importance of responsibility, resilience, and working hard for what you want. My world was rocked when I lost my youngest sister at the age of eleven, and our family faced a period of homelessness. These events sparked a desire in me to make a difference in the lives of others, especially those who face challenges beyond their control. In the midst of this adversity, I decided to pursue nursing, a profession where I could provide both medical care and emotional support to those in need, just as I wished my family had received during our most difficult moments. Throughout high school, I excelled academically, despite attending a predominantly white school where I often felt like an outsider. I worked relentlessly to earn my place in the National Honor Society and to be a role model for my younger siblings, hoping to inspire them to overcome whatever obstacles they might face. This drive for excellence continues today as a freshman at Howard University, an institution known for its rigorous academics and its "hustle culture." This scholarship would significantly ease the financial burden of my education, allowing me to focus more on my studies and clinical training. As a first-generation college student, the financial challenges have been a constant source of stress. Receiving this scholarship would relieve some of that pressure and enable me to dedicate more time to developing my nursing skills and preparing for a successful career in healthcare. My career goal is to become a nurse. I am committed to advocating for better healthcare access, particularly in underserved communities. As a nurse, I will have the opportunity to inspire others in my community to follow in my footsteps. In addition, I have contributed to my community in several ways. For the past two years, I have volunteered at my local elementary school’s food pantry, where I’ve earned recognition for my dedication and ambition. I also assist elementary teachers who lack the support of teacher assistants. One of my most rewarding experiences was presenting at a science fair, where I taught students about cholesterol using a blood demonstration. Additionally, I’ve spent months volunteering at a local nursing home, providing companionship to residents and assisting staff. These experiences have reinforced my desire to pursue nursing, as I’ve witnessed firsthand the impact a compassionate caregiver can have on a person's life. A major lesson I’ve learned is that time management is an area where I must continue to grow. I often feel there’s not enough time to accomplish everything I want to, and as someone with perfectionist tendencies, I’ve struggled when I can’t meet deadlines. My greatest strengths lie in my ability to write and communicate. As the editor of my high school newspaper from freshman to senior year, I developed a reputation for my work ethic and commitment to delivering high-quality articles, particularly in the mental health and wellness section. Today, as a writer for The Hilltop, the oldest Black collegiate newspaper in the United States, I continue to pursue my passion for journalism. Nursing and journalism are both passions of mine, and I plan to continue to pursue both fields, using my writing to advocate for health issues and to share the stories of those in need. This scholarship would be an incredible opportunity to further my education and allow me to dedicate myself fully to nursing, a field I am deeply passionate about. I am committed to using my skills, work ethic, and empathy to make a lasting impact in my community.

The moment I realized I wanted to become a nurse came during the hardest day of my life—the day I lost my youngest sister. I was only eleven years old, and as the oldest daughter in a family of eight, I was expected to be the rock everyone leaned on. But when the news came, it felt like the earth shifted beneath me. In the aftermath, my family faced unimaginable struggles, including a period of homelessness. We lived in a church shelter, unsure of what tomorrow would bring, but even in the darkness, I found my purpose. As a child, I saw first-hand how vital healthcare is during a crisis. I watched my family suffer, not just emotionally but physically, without the support of consistent, reliable care. I wanted to be the nurse who not only provided medical assistance, but also gave the kind of emotional support that helps people heal on a deeper level. That passion led me to where I am today—a freshman at Howard University, where I am pursuing my dream of becoming a nurse, determined to make a difference in my community. Growing up in a predominantly white high school, I often felt like an outsider, especially as I faced the additional pressure of being a Black student in an environment where I was judged not just for my academic achievements but also for my resilience. I worked harder than most of my peers to prove that I belonged. The challenges I faced never deterred me; they only strengthened my resolve. I proudly earned a spot in the National Honor Society, and my name is now etched on a plaque in the hallways of my old school, a testament to the hard work and determination that got me through those years. I want to be a nurse because I believe in the power of healing. I believe that healthcare is not just about treating a physical ailment but also about providing emotional and psychological support to those who need it most. The work I plan to do extends beyond the walls of a hospital. I am committed to giving back to my community, where many people face barriers to accessing healthcare. I want to be a bridge between those in need and the resources they deserve. Whether through direct patient care or health education programs, I aspire to ensure that those who are underserved have access to the care and attention they need. Nursing isn’t just a career path for me; it’s a mission. It is the legacy I want to leave—one that is rooted in resilience, compassion, and an unwavering commitment to service. As a nurse, I plan to be a source of strength not only for my patients but for the community I serve. I want to help others navigate their own struggles, just as I navigated mine. I want to be the nurse that people remember for being more than just a healthcare provider but a compassionate, understanding figure who made a difference. This scholarship would bring me one step closer to realizing my dream of becoming a nurse and making an impact in the world. I know the road ahead won’t be easy, but I am ready to take on the challenge. I’m not just pursuing a nursing degree—I’m pursuing a way to give back, to be the support that others need, and to ensure that my sister’s legacy lives on in the work I do.

As a child, I dreamed of becoming an OBGYN. I was fascinated by the idea of helping women through one of the most significant and life-changing experiences, the birth of a child. However, life took a turn when I was eleven years old, and the sudden death of my younger sister changed everything. The loss devastated me and my family, and I found myself thrust into a position of responsibility. As the oldest of eight children, I was expected to help hold my family together during a time of unimaginable grief. Our lives were upended as we faced homelessness, spending time in a church shelter, trying to find stability amid the chaos. The trauma of losing my sister was transformative. As I worked through my grief, I began to realize that I wanted to help others in a more direct way, particularly in the realm of healthcare. My experience navigating the emotional and logistical difficulties of my sister’s passing made me want to become a nurse. I wanted to be someone who could provide not just medical care, but also comfort and support for families going through difficult times. My desire to help people in the most vulnerable moments of their lives became my new plan for the future. Attending a predominantly white high school presented its own set of adversities. I often found myself working harder than my peers just to be seen and heard. I faced judgments, and in some cases, envy, because of my ability to excel despite my circumstances. However, these obstacles only fueled my determination. I made it my mission to be the best I could be, knowing that my success was not just for me, but for the younger siblings watching me. When I earned a spot in the National Honor Society, I knew that I had achieved something significant, and my name now proudly hangs on a plaque in the hallway—an achievement that will one day be used as inspiration for my siblings. Now, as a freshman at Howard University, I am continuing my journey toward becoming a nurse. Howard is an institution renowned for its academic rigor and its emphasis on the "hustle culture." This environment, filled with students who strive for excellence in all areas of their lives, has pushed me to raise the bar even higher. I've joined a Nursing club, and volunteered, which has also helped guide my progression. Howard’s commitment to both academics and extracurricular involvement aligns with my own goals. I want to excel not only in the classroom but also in the activities and organizations that will help shape me into a well-rounded healthcare professional. I often find myself battling a perfectionist mindset, one that tells me I am not doing enough, or that I am failing when I don't meet my high expectations. But I have learned that failure is part of the process, and it is through these experiences that I am growing. Each challenge, whether academic or personal, teaches me valuable lessons that will make me a better nurse, and more importantly, a more compassionate and empathetic person. In honor of my sister, and in memory of the difficult times my family endured, I am more determined than ever to achieve my goal of becoming a nurse. I am committed to making a positive impact on the lives of others, using my experiences and resilience to guide me. As I continue my education and grow in my career, I am determined to honor the legacy of my sister, who taught me the importance of strength, love, and perseverance in the face of hardship.

I remember standing in our cramped kitchen at thirteen, trying to calm my siblings while dinner burned on the stove. My parents were working late shifts, and it was one of many nights when I had to figure things out alone. As the oldest of eight kids, I became the person who made sure everyone ate, homework got done, and bedtime routines were kept—not because I wanted to, but because someone had to. There was no instruction manual for raising younger siblings while still being a child myself, yet those nights taught me responsibility, resourcefulness, and how to persevere when the weight of the world feels too heavy to carry. Life hasn’t been easy. At eleven years old, I experienced the devastating loss of my youngest sister. That pain shook my world and planted a seed of purpose that continues to grow today. Later, my family faced the loss of my grandfather to COVID-19, and most recently, the death of a close family friend. These moments could have broken me, but instead, they strengthened my resolve. I’ve also known homelessness. My family once lived in a church shelter, clinging to hope until we could find a place of our own. Yet through every hardship, I remained steadfast, determined to rise above the circumstances surrounding me. I attended a predominantly white high school where I initially struggled with the fear of standing out. For students like me, being “noticeable” often came with unwelcome attention, judgment, or isolation. But instead of fading into the background, I pushed myself to excel. I earned a place in the National Honor Society—a moment I never thought possible. Today, my name is proudly displayed on a plaque at my high school. It’s a symbol of my achievement, and perseverance—a legacy that my younger siblings will see when they walk those same halls. I have begun my next chapter at Howard University, an esteemed institution that fosters a vibrant "hustle culture" where students are driven to succeed—just like me. Many of my peers, like Kalia, have overcome significant challenges, including dealing with racism at predominantly white schools. I share Kalia’s commitment to excellence and her impeccable work ethic, striving for perfection in everything I do. I hold myself to the highest standards and aim to be a person of integrity and respect. By honoring Kalia’s life and all she stood for, I too hope to leave a legacy of excellence that others can appreciate and aspire to follow.

Being the eldest of eight siblings, I grew up navigating a life filled with responsibility and the weight of expectations. Losing my youngest sister at the age of eleven marked the beginning of a series of losses, including my grandfather and, most recently, a close family friend. These experiences of grief have deeply influenced who I am. My childhood was far from easy. There were times when survival was the only priority—like when my family became homeless and found refuge in a church shelter until we could rebuild our lives. With my parents consumed by work and needing to provide, I was forced to take on the role of a third parent, stepping up to help raise my siblings. Despite the constant struggles and frequent relocations, I remained determined to build a future not only for myself but for my siblings as well. Attending a predominantly white high school presented its own adversities, where I often felt overlooked or hesitant to stand out for fear of bullying or judgment. But when I was chosen to be a member of the National Honor Society, everything changed. Seeing my name on the school’s plaque felt like validation—proof that perseverance pays off, no matter the circumstances. That plaque isn’t just a name etched into a wall; it’s a legacy for my siblings to see, a reminder of what’s possible when you refuse to give up. Now, as a freshman at Howard University, I’m taking the next step in creating that legacy by pursuing a Bachelor’s of Science in Nursing. I won’t pretend that the journey has been easy. With school expenses weighing heavily on my family—especially in the wake of losing someone so close to us—I sometimes feel like a burden. But then I think back to that eleven-year-old girl who was told her sister didn’t make it. Her death wasn’t just a loss; it was a call to action. I remember hearing that an error in the hospital system contributed to her passing, and even at such a young age, I knew something needed to change. That was my “aha” moment—the spark that ignited my desire to become a nurse. Nursing, to me, isn’t just about treating patients. It’s about advocating for families, ensuring they receive the care they deserve, and working to fix the cracks in a system that failed my sister. I want to be the nurse who listens, who comforts, and who fights for solutions when things don’t go as they should. I want to bring empathy, cultural awareness, and a determination to do better into every patient interaction. Every hardship I’ve endured has given me a deeper sense of purpose. Whether it was overcoming homelessness, stepping into leadership within my family, or proving to myself that I belonged in the National Honor Society, I’ve learned to transform adversity into motivation. My journey has shaped me into someone who doesn’t take opportunities for granted. I don’t just want to build a career in nursing—I want to create meaningful change, honor my sister’s memory, and provide the kind of care that every family deserves. Howard University is the perfect place to begin this mission. Surrounded by a community of driven, like-minded individuals, I know I’m in the right environment to grow, learn, and become the nurse I aspire to be. My story isn’t defined by hardship alone; it’s defined by what I’ve chosen to do with it.

The hardships I’ve faced throughout my life have shaped me into the person I am today. From losing my youngest sister when I was just eleven, to dealing with the loss of my grandfather, a close family friend, and enduring the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic, I have been through more than many people my age. These experiences, although painful, have taught me resilience, responsibility, and the importance of creating a future where I can make a difference. When my sister died, I was too young to fully understand the complexities of death, but I felt the weight of it deeply. What hurt the most was that her death could have been prevented—an error in the hospital system played a part in her passing. As I grieved, I began to question the system that failed her, and this sparked a desire to pursue a career in healthcare. I want to be a part of a system that saves lives, rather than one that contributes to loss. This experience has made me determined to evoke change. Being the oldest of eight children, I’ve had to step into the role of a third parent. My parents worked long hours to support our family, and often, I was the one who helped with my younger siblings, making sure they were fed, safe, and cared for. There were times when we were homeless, living in a shelter in a church, and I felt the heavy burden of responsibility. Yet, these experiences have taught me that hardship builds our character. It taught me how to be resourceful, how to persevere through difficult times, and how to take care of others even when I was struggling myself. When I became a member of my high school’s National Honor Society, it felt like an impossible dream. Attending a predominantly white school, I had often kept to myself, afraid of standing out and drawing attention to my differences. I feared being bullied or facing jealousy, but despite these fears, I pushed myself to excel. Becoming a member of NHS was more than just an academic achievement—it was a symbol of my growth and determination. My name now hangs on a plaque in my school, and one day, my younger siblings will see it. It will be a reminder to them that no matter where they come from, they have the ability to rise above challenges and achieve their dreams. Now, as a freshman at Howard University, I’m taking the next step in my journey. I know that college will be difficult. It’s expensive, and I sometimes feel like a burden to my family. But I also know that every sacrifice I make today will lay the foundation for a better future. I am studying to earn a Bachelor's in Science, with the goal of becoming a nurse. I want to make a difference in the world, to use my experiences and the pain I’ve endured to help others. My story isn’t one of privilege or ease, but it is a story of strength, Perseverance, and the will to create something better. The struggles I’ve faced have taught me invaluable lessons that I carry with me every day. I may have been a grieving child once, but I’m becoming someone who uses that grief to fuel a passion for healing and change. My legacy won’t be defined by my hardships, but by the positive impact I will make in the world, especially in the medical field, where I hope to inspire change, save lives, and offer others the care and compassion I’ve always wanted for my loved ones.

profound loss, each experience shaping the person I am today. At just 11 years old, I experienced the heartbreaking loss of my baby sister, who passed away in the hospital only a few days after her birth. That devastating event left my mother unable to return to our home in Georgia, so my father reached out to an estranged aunt in Pennsylvania. She offered us a place to stay, but only if we paid rent. We packed up everything and drove 12 hours to start anew in Pennsylvania, a place that has been our home since 2017. While settling into this new chapter, life continued to test us. In 2021, I lost my grandfather, a man whose wisdom and love had always been a guiding light. That same year, despite the grief, my parents achieved the milestone of buying their first home. For them, it symbolized the American Dream—an aspiration particularly meaningful as immigrants from Jamaica. Their determination and resilience have always been my foundation, reminding me of the sacrifices they made to create a better future for our family. The losses, however, didn’t stop there. In 2024, just a week before my high school graduation, I lost Kevin, a family friend who had been like an uncle to me for six years. He was tragically killed in a car accident while helping a woman carry her groceries into her house. Kevin had planned to watch me walk across the stage and receive my diploma. His absence was deeply felt, but his encouragement continues to inspire me to push forward. At just 18 years old, I have endured a lifetime of challenges and heartbreak, but these experiences have fueled my determination to succeed. Attending my dream school, Howard University, and pursuing a nursing degree is about more than personal ambition. It is a promise to myself, my family, and everyone who has believed in me. I am determined to honor the memory of those who are no longer here and to be a beacon of hope for those who look up to me. My upbringing taught me resilience, adaptability, and the value of perseverance. Moving from place to place and navigating life’s tragedies has shown me the importance of building a legacy that outlives pain. As a nurse, I will not only care for others but also embody the strength of my family’s journey. My story is proof that despite life’s hardships, success is possible when you carry hope, grit, and a deep sense of purpose. This is my legacy: to transform adversity into action, loss into motivation, and dreams into reality—for myself and for those who can no longer chase theirs.

Ever since I was a child, I have been fascinated by the role of a medical provider—a person who offers both hope and healing in times of need. Growing up in a Jamaican household in the United States, I witnessed firsthand how access to healthcare shaped people’s lives and futures. My family shared stories about health disparities in Jamaica, and the challenges people faced without consistent or quality medical care. These stories sparked my curiosity about healthcare and inspired me to pursue a career in medicine. As I’ve developed a passion for patient care and advocacy, I have become driven to make a lasting impact in underserved communities, specifically as a Physician Assistant (PA). One of the first steps in my journey was becoming involved in community health initiatives during college. Volunteering at a local free clinic in a low-income neighborhood, I witnessed how many families, particularly immigrants, struggled to navigate a healthcare system that felt foreign to them. Language barriers, financial constraints, and fear often kept them from seeking timely care. I remember one patient in particular—a woman who came to the clinic with a serious infection but had avoided hospitals for months because she feared the cost. I held her hand as we talked through her concerns, connecting her with resources that could cover her treatment. This experience was a turning point for me. It showed me how vital it is to have compassionate, culturally sensitive healthcare providers who make patients feel seen and valued. My vision as a future PA is rooted in making healthcare more accessible and empathetic for all. I plan to specialize in primary care, serving communities where health education and preventative care are lacking. My goal is not only to provide medical treatment but to serve as a bridge between healthcare systems and those who feel marginalized by them. As a PA, I want to advocate for patients, providing them with the knowledge and resources they need to take control of their health and feel empowered in their healthcare journeys. A major focus of my career will be health literacy, an issue close to my heart. As a child translating medical forms for my grandmother, I quickly realized how overwhelming healthcare jargon can be. Many people avoid seeking help simply because they don’t understand what’s being asked of them or are intimidated by complex procedures. I am determined to change that. I believe that by making health information more accessible, we can prevent many chronic conditions and improve health outcomes across communities. Throughout my studies, I’ve also developed a strong interest in mental health, which I plan to integrate into my practice as a PA. Mental health often goes unaddressed, especially in minority communities where stigma persists, and there is a lack of culturally sensitive resources. I aim to advocate for mental health screenings as a routine part of primary care, particularly for patients who may be reluctant to seek help in more formalized mental health settings. By normalizing these conversations in everyday healthcare visits, I hope to break down barriers and encourage patients to seek support for both their mental and physical health. My medical career as a PA will be dedicated to creating a healthcare environment where every patient feels understood and supported. I know that the challenges ahead are numerous, but I am prepared to face them head-on with empathy, resilience, and a commitment to justice in healthcare. Ultimately, my goal is to create a ripple effect of positive change, where each patient I help not only improves their health but also feels empowered to advocate for themselves and others.

If you were to step into my personal library, you wouldn’t just see a collection of books; you’d see a constellation of stories that have shaped my journey, illuminated my darkness, and ignited my passion for connection and healing. This isn’t just a bookshelf; it’s a living testament to the power of words and the way they resonate in the hearts of readers. Each title whispers a lesson, echoes a struggle, and sings a story that’s more than just fiction—it’s a mirror reflecting the complexities of love, loss, and resilience. Among the titles that already grace my shelf—"It Ends with Us," "It Starts with Us," "Ugly Love," and "Too Late"—each carries its weight of emotional resonance. Colleen Hoover's narratives have become a balm for countless hearts on #BookTok, creating a community that speaks candidly about love's complexities and the scars that often accompany it. These books don’t shy away from the hard truths; they embrace them, offering solace to those grappling with their own relationships and past traumas. But my bookshelf yearns for more stories, more voices that echo the struggles and triumphs we share. Enter **"Reminders of Him"** by Colleen Hoover, a raw exploration of redemption and forgiveness. It dives into the heart of a mother fighting for her daughter while battling her own demons—a story that resonates with those who have ever felt unworthy of love or second chances. Its emotional depth continues to spark discussions on #BookTok, where readers find catharsis in its pages. Next, I’d add "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo" by Taylor Jenkins Reid, a breathtaking saga of a glamorous actress revealing her life’s truths. Evelyn’s story transcends time, delving into the nuances of identity, love, and the sacrifices made for fame. It’s a poignant reminder that behind every beautiful façade lies a story of struggle, making it a staple in the #BookTok community, where readers find themselves entranced by her narrative. "Beach Read" by Emily Henry would also find its place on my shelf. This charming tale of two authors on a beach retreat confronts not just the chaos of creativity but also the personal battles that each character faces. It beautifully illustrates how love can blossom amidst uncertainty, a theme that resonates deeply within the #BookTok audience, reminding us all that joy often emerges from our hardest moments. I can’t forget "People We Meet on Vacation" by Emily Henry, either. A love story built on friendship, laughter, and vulnerability, it captures the essence of those who have been through ups and downs, illustrating that sometimes the most profound connections come from those we’ve known the longest. It has inspired countless TikToks celebrating platonic love and the power of shared experiences. To wrap up this collection, I’d include "The Midnight Library" by Matt Haig—a philosophical journey through the infinite possibilities of life choices. It poses the question: What if you could undo your regrets? This thought-provoking narrative has sparked many discussions on #BookTok about mental health, hope, and the power of living authentically. Its message is one of hope—a beacon for anyone feeling lost, which is a sentiment that resonates deeply within our community. This bookshelf isn’t just a compilation of stories; it’s an exploration of the human experience, a place where every title holds the weight of vulnerability and strength. Through these books, I’ve discovered that while our stories may differ, our emotions connect us in powerful ways. This bookshelf stands as a reminder that literature is not just about escapism but also about confronting our realities, healing our wounds, and finding hope in the darkness.

In “Love’s Mosaic,” the contestants will engage in a heartwarming and thought-provoking challenge designed to explore the depths of their emotional connections while fostering creativity and vulnerability. This challenge combines art, storytelling, and teamwork to illustrate how each couple perceives their relationship. Challenge Setup: 1. Location: The villa’s garden will be transformed into an art studio, featuring large canvases, paints, brushes, and various crafting materials. Each couple will have a designated space to create their piece. 2. Theme: The theme of the challenge is "Our Love Story," encouraging contestants to express their unique relationship journey through art. This theme will prompt them to reflect on their experiences together, both highs and lows. 3. Duration: The challenge will last three hours, with a timer counting down to build anticipation and excitement. The Challenge Breakdown: Introduction: - The host gathers all contestants in the garden and explains the challenge's purpose: to create a visual representation of their relationship. They’ll have to work together, combining their perspectives to produce a single piece of art. - Each couple will receive a prompt to spark creativity, such as “What colors represent your love?” or “Create a symbol that captures your bond.” Art Creation: - Couples will start by sketching their ideas on the canvas, brainstorming their shared memories and feelings. - As they paint, they must also incorporate personal items that symbolize their relationship, such as small trinkets, photographs, or notes. - Each couple will have a “Love Canvas,” and they can choose to work collaboratively or express individual perspectives within the piece. Storytelling Component: - Once the artwork is completed, each couple will take turns presenting their creation to the group. - They’ll share the stories behind their chosen colors, symbols, and items, explaining how these elements represent their journey together. - This storytelling aspect is crucial, as it fosters vulnerability and connection among the contestants. It encourages them to open up about their feelings and experiences. Judging: - A panel of judges, including previous contestants or guest artists, will evaluate each piece based on creativity, emotional depth, and presentation. - The panel will look for authenticity and the couples' ability to communicate their feelings through their art. - Judges will score each couple, and the top three will be awarded special prizes, such as romantic dinner dates or a private movie night under the stars. Impactful Elements: - Emotional Depth: The challenge pushes contestants to confront their feelings and express them openly, which can lead to breakthroughs in their relationships. - Creative Collaboration: This challenge emphasizes teamwork and the importance of communication in a relationship, reinforcing the idea that love is built on shared experiences and creativity. - Vulnerability: The storytelling component encourages contestants to be vulnerable, sharing their insecurities and triumphs. This vulnerability can strengthen their bonds and create lasting memories. Final Touch: At the end of the challenge, all completed canvases will be displayed around the villa, creating a “Love Gallery” where contestants can reflect on their journeys throughout the season. This gallery will serve as a beautiful reminder of their experiences and growth, reinforcing the idea that love is a unique mosaic, made up of many pieces that come together to form something beautiful.

The restaurant is finally at its peak—The Bear has become the talk of Chicago, a Michelin-star contender. The kitchen hums with precision, but there’s a quiet tension in the air. Every character we’ve come to love is at a crossroads, their stories intertwined in a delicate dance of triumph and tragedy. Carmy, now firmly established as a culinary genius, still wrestles with the shadows of his past. The perfection he’s chased his entire life finally feels within reach, but something inside him is unsettled. He looks around the kitchen, watching his team operate like a well-oiled machine, and realizes that he’s become everything he feared—a lone wolf in a world he’s constructed out of trauma and ambition. For the first time, he chooses life over the restaurant, knowing that healing will only come if he lets go. Sydney stands in the kitchen as the sous-chef, but the truth is, she’s always been the heart of the place. Her journey from insecurity to confidence has been hard-fought, and now, as Carmy walks away, the weight of The Bear falls on her shoulders. But Sydney isn’t rattled. She’s learned to trust herself, to trust the team. In that final moment, she steps up to the pass and calls out orders with calm authority. The Bear is hers now, and it’s no longer just about food—it’s about building a space where people like her can thrive, where they don’t have to prove their worth every day. She’s the future of Chicago’s culinary scene, and it’s bright. Richie, the most unlikely of all, has found his way back into the kitchen, but more importantly, into himself. His arc has been one of painful self-realization, and through his work at The Bear, he’s found purpose. In the closing moments, Richie gets a phone call: his daughter, who he’s been struggling to connect with, wants to come visit. He looks at the bustling restaurant and smiles. For once, he feels like he’s not just surviving—he’s living. Tina and Ebra are the soul of the kitchen, the veterans who have seen it all. Their story ends not with some grand revelation, but with a quiet sense of belonging. They are still working the line, but now, it’s different. They aren’t just employees; they are family. The kitchen they’ve fought for is finally theirs, a place where respect flows both ways, and for the first time, they feel like they belong in a world that has often dismissed them. And then there’s Marcus. He’s traveled the world, honing his pastry skills, and now he’s back, standing in front of a dessert he’s created that will soon become legendary. Marcus’s journey has always been one of quiet ambition, of finding beauty in simplicity. In the final scene, we see him alone in the pastry station, delicately plating his masterpiece. Marcus isn’t chasing anything anymore. He’s found peace in his craft, a reflection of his own inner growth. As the restaurant pulses with life, there’s one last shot: the front door swings open, and Sugar walks in, holding her baby. She glances around, watching her brother’s restaurant flourish without him. Her role as the emotional glue of the family has shifted, and now, she’s at peace knowing that she, too, has created something beautiful—her family. She sits down at the counter, watching from the sidelines as The Bear roars on. The camera lingers on the kitchen—a symphony of chaos and order—before cutting to a shot of the old, decrepit sign outside: The Bear. The neon flickers, casting shadows on the street, as the show fades to black.

The darkest moments of my life didn’t begin when I lost my sister. They began when I lost myself. Growing up, I witnessed firsthand the cracks in a healthcare system that was not designed for people like me. My sister's death was the final blow, a devastating reminder of how often Black women fall through those cracks. But long before that, I was already unraveling. My mental health struggles and substance abuse didn't happen overnight; they were slow burns, ignited by grief, anger, and the weight of living in a world where survival as a Black woman sometimes felt like rebellion. I found myself drowning in silence, too ashamed to ask for help and too angry to care. The world seemed indifferent, and I became indifferent to myself. But one day, I hit a wall. There wasn’t a dramatic event that snapped me out of my haze, just a quiet realization: I was still here, still alive, and still had a choice. My recovery didn’t start with a program or a plan—it started with a question. "Why not me?" Why couldn't I fight for myself the way I so desperately wanted the world to fight for my sister? Why couldn't I rebuild the parts of myself that had been chipped away by neglect and rage? And so I started to fight. Not just for my sobriety, but for my sanity, my future, and my ability to turn pain into purpose. Therapy became my refuge, and slowly, I learned that my mental health wasn’t something to be ashamed of but something to be nurtured. I dug deep into my past traumas, unpacking the grief I’d buried for so long. I relapsed along the way, more than once, but I didn’t let those moments define me. Each time, I got back up, determined not to let my story end there. As I clawed my way back to myself, something else emerged: a vision for my future. Nursing became more than just a career path; it became my calling. The underrepresentation of Black women in healthcare, and the high rates of casualties among us, became personal statistics. But instead of letting those numbers haunt me, I made a vow to change them. I’ve already lost my sister. I refuse to lose more. I enrolled at Howard University as a freshman nursing major, driven by a deep-seated desire to be part of a system that doesn’t just patch wounds but heals people—mind, body, and spirit. I chose to write for The Hilltop as a campus journalist because I believe in using my voice to amplify the stories that matter. Through the Nursing Club and Volunteer et Veritas, I’m learning that service isn’t just about what you give, but about the integrity and intention behind it. My educational goals are simple: to become a nurse who is more than just a technician. I want to be an advocate, a warrior for those whose voices are often ignored. My experiences with mental health have taught me how crucial it is to treat the whole person, not just the symptoms. My past struggles with substance abuse remind me that recovery is a daily decision, and I plan to carry that resilience into every patient interaction. I’ll treat people with the humanity that was denied to my sister. As for managing my recovery moving forward, I know it will be a lifelong process. But I’m no longer afraid of the journey. I’ve built a support network of friends, therapists, and mentors who hold me accountable. I’ve learned the importance of self-care and have adopted practices that keep me grounded—whether that’s journaling, meditating, or simply being kind to myself when things get hard. Nursing school will undoubtedly challenge me, but I see those challenges as opportunities to grow and to reaffirm the strength I’ve already built. I know what it’s like to feel invisible, to fight battles that others can’t see. But I also know what it’s like to rise from that darkness and carve out a new path, one paved with purpose, empathy, and a relentless drive to create change. For me, nursing isn’t just a profession. It’s a promise—to my sister, to my community, and to myself.

"I’m sorry that I’m not who you thought I was" – Olivia Rodrigo, 'GUTS'. This lyric could have been written for the millions of Black girls navigating a world that often decides their stories before they’ve even had a chance to tell them. It’s a confession, a frustration, and a liberation all at once. Adolescence, for me, was a battleground of expectations versus reality. This lyric encapsulates my own internal struggle with identity, expectations, and a healthcare system that has yet to see me, my family, or my community. At 17, I wasn’t the person I thought I’d be, let alone who the world expected me to become. I had plans, visions of success, and goals of achieving greatness. Yet, the weight of systemic disparities confronted me head-on when I lost my youngest sister—her life cut short by medical irresponsibility, the kind that disproportionately affects Black women. That experience shattered my view of the world and myself. Rodrigo’s lyric resonates with me because, in that moment, I wasn’t the strong older sister, the straight-A student, or the “good girl” society told me I needed to be. I was angry, helpless, and consumed by a grief I didn’t know how to process. Adolescence is supposed to be messy, right? But for me, it wasn’t just about teenage heartbreaks and finding my identity in a sea of Instagram profiles. It was about wrestling with a reality I never chose—one where my sister became another statistic, and I was left asking why her life didn’t matter as much. In those moments, Olivia’s words felt like the truest description of my teenage experience: being forced to apologize for not fitting into the expectations of who I should be and how I should feel. But from that grief, I found clarity. I’m choosing to rewrite the narrative that was handed to me and pursue a career in nursing. I want to be a part of a system that doesn’t ask Black women to apologize for existing, for having pain, or for expecting care. It’s not just about representation, although that’s crucial. It’s about rewriting a broken system from the inside out. Olivia’s lyric speaks to the essence of adolescence—pain, transformation, and the decision to rise from the ashes of broken expectations. In nursing, I see a path to break those chains for others. My sister’s life didn’t have to end the way it did, and I’m committed to making sure fewer families endure the loss mine did. My teenage years have taught me that resilience isn’t just about pushing through—it’s about using your voice to challenge what’s wrong and create space for others to heal. I’m not who the world expected me to be, and that’s my power. As a Black woman in healthcare, I’ll carry my story and the stories of countless others into every patient interaction, every decision I make. Because at the end of the day, we shouldn’t have to apologize for wanting more—for wanting justice, care, and a system that works for us. In the same way Olivia’s lyrics speak to the unspoken trials of growing up, I will use my voice to confront the unspoken injustices that too many families like mine face. Adolescence gave me grief, but it also gave me purpose. And now, I have the chance to turn that purpose into healing for others.

The darkest moments of my life didn’t begin when I lost my sister. They began when I lost myself. Growing up, I witnessed firsthand the cracks in a healthcare system that was not designed for people like me. My sister's death was the final blow, a devastating reminder of how often Black women fall through those cracks. But long before that, I was already unraveling. My mental health struggles and substance abuse didn't happen overnight; they were slow burns, ignited by grief, anger, and the weight of living in a world where survival as a Black woman sometimes felt like rebellion. I found myself drowning in silence, too ashamed to ask for help and too angry to care. The world seemed indifferent, and I became indifferent to myself. But one day, I hit a wall. There wasn’t a dramatic event that snapped me out of my haze, just a quiet realization: I was still here, still alive, and still had a choice. I became an advocate amplifying the importance of mental health when I became a journalist for my high school's newspaper. I was the editor for Mental Health and Wellness, here I interviewed numerous people from the victim's Resource Center. And so I started to fight. Not just for my sobriety, but for my sanity, my future, and my ability to turn pain into purpose. Therapy became my refuge, and slowly, I learned that my mental health wasn’t something to be ashamed of but something to be nurtured. I dug deep into my past traumas, unpacking the grief I’d buried for so long. I relapsed along the way, more than once, but I didn’t let those moments define me. Each time, I got back up, determined not to let my story end there. As I clawed my way back to myself, something else emerged: a vision for my future. Nursing became more than just a career path; it became my calling. The underrepresentation of Black women in healthcare, and the high rates of casualties among us, became personal statistics. But instead of letting those numbers haunt me, I made a vow to change them. I’ve already lost my sister. I refuse to lose more. I enrolled at Howard University as a freshman nursing major, driven by a deep-seated desire to be part of a system that doesn’t just patch wounds but heals people—mind, body, and spirit. I chose to write for The Hilltop as a campus journalist because I believe in using my voice to amplify the stories that matter. Through the Nursing Club and Volunteer et Veritas, I’m learning that service isn’t just about what you give, but about the integrity and intention behind it. My educational goals are simple: to become a nurse who is more than just a technician. I want to be an advocate, a warrior for those whose voices are often ignored. My experiences with mental health have taught me how crucial it is to treat the whole person, not just the symptoms. My past struggles with substance abuse remind me that recovery is a daily decision, and I plan to carry that resilience into every patient interaction. I’ll treat people with the humanity that was denied to my sister. As for managing my recovery moving forward, I know it will be a lifelong process. But I’m no longer afraid of the journey. I’ve built a support network of friends, therapists, and mentors who hold me accountable. I’ve learned the importance of self-care and have adopted practices that keep me grounded—whether that’s journaling, meditating, or simply being kind to myself when things get hard. Nursing school will undoubtedly challenge me, but I see those challenges as opportunities to grow and to reaffirm the strength I’ve already built. I know what it’s like to feel invisible, to fight battles that others can’t see. But I also know what it’s like to rise from that darkness and carve out a new path, one paved with purpose, empathy, and a relentless drive to create change. For me, nursing isn’t just a profession. It’s a promise—to my sister, to my community, and to myself.

I was eleven when I lost my sister—small enough to feel invisible in a world where Black women like her were already unseen. Yet, she wasn't a woman, she was a child for a few days. The medical system, built to care, failed her. It was more than a medical error; it was a brutal reminder that, for Black women, negligence can be fatal. She was the beginning of my fight, and nursing will be my weapon. I don’t see nursing as a job. To me, it’s a mission—a rebellion against the injustices I’ve seen in the healthcare system. Black and Indigenous women experience disproportionate levels of pain, neglect, and indifference in medical spaces. Too often, we’re silenced or dismissed. I know this from lived experience, but worse, I know this from death. That’s why my nursing degree is not just for a career; it’s for creating change. I envision myself standing in those sterile white halls, but not as another passive observer. I will be a bridge, a voice, and a shield for BIPOC women who are fighting battles not only with illness but with a system that wasn’t built for us. With my nursing degree, I will become an advocate, ensuring that no Black woman is treated as an afterthought. I plan to work not only at the bedside but also within communities, building relationships, educating, and empowering women to take control of their health before it’s too late. I dream of creating health initiatives tailored for Black and Indigenous women. I want to bring healthcare into the neighborhoods that are ignored, holding workshops on reproductive health, mental health, and chronic illnesses—areas where we are most vulnerable. I plan to partner with grassroots organizations, ensuring that care is accessible and culturally sensitive, that we don’t just wait until the hospital room to fight for our survival. But my vision doesn’t stop with just care; I aim to be a disruptor. I will challenge hospitals, institutions, and policies that allow these disparities to persist. It’s not enough to treat wounds; we must prevent them. That’s why I’ll also focus on education—teaching healthcare professionals how to listen, how to care, how to treat BIPOC women with the dignity and respect we deserve. I plan to speak up in those rooms, knowing that silence costs lives. My journey into nursing is rooted in a desire for justice. When my sister’s voice was silenced, I promised mine would never be. Every patient I treat will feel the ripple effect of that promise. I will leverage every tool my education gives me to dismantle the walls that prevent Black and Indigenous women from receiving equitable care. My nursing practice will be an act of resistance—a daily stand against the inequality we face. And through it all, I will carry my sister’s memory with me, making sure that every woman I encounter knows I see you. You are not invisible. Empowerment is more than healing bodies; it’s about transforming the system. Nursing is my path, but justice is my purpose.

Embarking on the journey of pursuing a career in nursing is not merely a personal aspiration for me; it's a calling deeply rooted in my unwavering commitment to serving others and making a positive difference in my community. My passion for helping those in need has been a guiding force throughout my life, and I am determined to channel that passion into a meaningful and fulfilling career in healthcare.As the oldest of seven siblings and a first-generation college student, I recognize the importance of setting a positive example for my younger siblings and paving the way for their future success. Growing up in a tight-knit family, I have always felt a sense of responsibility to lead by example and demonstrate the value of hard work, perseverance, and dedication. Pursuing higher education has been a dream of mine, not only for my own personal growth but also to show my siblings that with determination and resilience, anything is possible.However, the path to achieving my academic and career goals comes with its own set of challenges, particularly when it comes to financial constraints. As a member of a large family with limited financial resources, the cost of attending a secondary institution and pursuing a nursing degree can seem daunting and overwhelming at times. That's where the significance of scholarships like this one truly shines through.Receiving this scholarship would not only be a tremendous honor but also a lifeline that would help alleviate the financial burden associated with pursuing higher education. It would provide me with the opportunity to focus wholeheartedly on my studies and immerse myself fully in the academic rigors of a nursing program, without the constant worry of how to finance my education. This scholarship would serve as a beacon of hope and a catalyst for turning my dreams into reality.Beyond the financial assistance it provides, this scholarship holds immense symbolic value for me. It signifies recognition and validation of my hard work, dedication, and commitment to academic excellence. It would reaffirm my belief in myself and my ability to overcome obstacles and achieve my goals, no matter how daunting they may seem. Knowing that there are individuals and organizations out there who believe in me and are willing to invest in my future fills me with a sense of gratitude and motivation to continue striving for excellence.Moreover, this scholarship would enable me to not only pursue my passion for nursing but also to become a valuable asset to my community. Armed with the knowledge, skills, and compassion gained through my education, I aspire to make a meaningful impact in the lives of others, whether it's by providing compassionate patient care, advocating for underserved populations, or actively participating in community outreach initiatives.In conclusion, my career goals of pursuing a nursing degree and making a positive impact in my community are deeply intertwined with my personal values and aspirations. This scholarship would not only provide me with the financial support necessary to pursue my academic endeavors but also serve as a source of inspiration and empowerment as I strive to fulfill my dreams and become the best version of myself. I am truly grateful for the opportunity to be considered for this scholarship, and I am committed to making the most of it to achieve my goals and contribute to the betterment of society.

The air hums with urgency, a melody of footsteps and hushed conversations that echo through the corridors. Amidst this orchestrated chaos, my gaze is drawn to the entrance, where nurses pivot with purpose, their faces sculpted by the dedication that defines their calling. The environment is a whirlwind, a maelstrom of activity that engulfs you the moment you step through the automatic sliding doors. The corridor is a bustling thoroughfare, adorned with the clatter of footsteps, the distant hum of medical machinery, and the occasional overhead announcement that slices through the air like a conductor's baton. It's here that I stand, a silent witness to the theater of life and death, where every second counts, and the cadence of urgency orchestrates the rhythm of the day. My eyes are drawn to the entrance as a stretcher glides into view, carried by a team of paramedics whose movements are synchronized like a well-rehearsed ballet. In this mesmerizing performance, the nurses emerge as the principal dancers. Their faces, etched with determination and compassion, pivot towards the entrance as if drawn by an invisible force—an unspoken oath to attend to those in need. It's a scene that unfolds countless times, yet each iteration is a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the resilience of the human spirit. As I observe, I am not merely a spectator but a participant in the grand narrative of healthcare. The hospital becomes a stage, and I, a character compelled by a profound calling to contribute to this unfolding saga. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of responsibility that permeates the very air I breathe. It's a feeling that seeps into your bones—the realization that in this fast-paced realm, lives hang in the delicate balance between expertise and empathy. I find myself navigating its space, caught in the liminal space between anxiety and hope. The worn-out chairs are occupied by souls seeking solace, their eyes betraying the weight of concern, the unspoken language of worry that echoes through the room. I await the doctor's permission to re-enter the room, my father's room, after having been by his side during a critical moment. The ticking clock on the sterile wall becomes my metronome, measuring the cadence of my thoughts. In this waiting, I recognize the profound impact that nursing can have on the human experience. It is not just about administering medications or executing medical procedures; it's about being present in the moments that matter, offering a compassionate touch in the face of uncertainty. It's a commitment to making a difference, not only in individual lives but in the collective narrative of humanity. In envisioning my future in nursing, I see myself as a storyteller of healing, crafting narratives of resilience and recovery. Beyond the clinical tasks, my aspiration is to be a source of comfort, and hope for those navigating the labyrinth of illness. Through my career, I plan to bridge the gap between expertise and empathy, contributing to a world where healthcare is not just a service but a profound expression of humanity's capacity for compassion. As the doctor finally beckons me back into the room, I carry with me the echoes of the hospital's heartbeat—the relentless pulse of dedication, the harmonious interplay of medical professionals, and the silent prayers that resonate in the spaces between life and its fragility. I am propelled forward by the conviction that my passion for nursing is not merely a career choice; it is a narrative of purpose, a story woven into the fabric of making a meaningful difference in the lives of those entrusted to my care.

I’m passionate about my knowledge (because it is the key to success), occupying a career in the medical field, making my parents proud, and graduating high school with a GPA of 3.8 or higher with a full ride scholarship. At the age of 10 in the summer of 2017 before the begging of 6th grade I lost my sister two days after she was born. My mother was in the hospital in a deathbed for 45 days, before transferring hospitals and was told that if she hadn’t transfers she would have died that day. I just want to make he proud of be because she is a strong and confident women, things were never easy for us because of our huge family which consists of my eight children including myself and my parents. We never received Food Stamps or financial aid because my parents are immigrants from Jamaica. We had to find a way to hustle and provide for ourselves. I remember the nights we had to sleep in our car on top of each other, in hotels, jumping from friend to friend’s house. There was never a night to this day that I hadn’t worried if my siblings ate. I’m 15, born in Brooklyn New York, raised in DeKlab County, Georgia and I now live in Carbon County, Pennsylvania. I have been all over the East cost because my parents refused to give up on the dream of sending us to the best schools possible and seeing us grow to become the best versions of ourselves possible.