I’ve always felt that I was fundamentally different from those around me. Throughout my life, I’ve struggled with my mental health, both in school and at home. Although I easily understood my classes, it was hard for me to remember due dates or focus on homework. I often had intense mood swings, which clouded my judgement and made me argue with my mother almost daily. My mental state, my feelings, didn’t come to light until I almost made a rash decision about my life, after a particularly intense argument. I’m incredibly grateful I was stopped before anything serious happened, though I did have to have several sessions with psychiatrists and a therapist afterwards. It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with depression and ADD at 14 that I realized I was really, truly, different from my peers, from my friends. This caused me to isolate myself from them; I felt as though they’d never understand me, what I was going through, and I’d never understand them, so why bother? I realize now, at 18, that this pessimistic way of thinking was only making my symptoms worse. Thankfully, I’ve developed many ways to deal with this hopelessness since, with the help of my therapist and others. After going through this, I can say that I’m in a much better place, and I hope no one has to go through the same feelings I did. But aside from breathing exercises and mindful thinking, there was one thing that unexpectedly saved me when I was at my worst. My favorite animated tv show. It sounds silly, but the idea of talking about the show that I liked with my friends encouraged me to get out of this depressive spiral. The chance to gush about my favorite scenes, or my feelings of outrage at certain characters’ actions forced me to get out of my shell and interact with others, even if just to text or video-chat with them when we couldn’t hang out in person due to the pandemic, or show them the drawings I made of our favorite characters. It helped me create a special kind of connection, a special kind of bond with my friends. This also helped me realize something: I wasn’t actually absolutely, irrevocably different. I may have felt things more intensely than others, and I may struggle more at certain things, but I shared a lot of similarities with them, too. I could laugh with them about the same things, could help them understand the subjects they had trouble with (and vice versa), and most of all, I could watch and talk about the same shows they watched. Now, I’m graduating 3rd in my graduating class, with both my high school diploma and an associate’s degree. I’m so proud of how far I’ve come, from a shy, depressed middle schooler to an outgoing, active high schooler with multiple leadership positions. I can confidently say I have a great relationship with my mom, and I’m friends with all kinds of people. Although I know I’m different in a lot of ways from all of them, I know I’m also similar to them in many more. After graduating, I’ve chosen to go into animation, so I can work on shows or movies like the one that made that change in my life. I know that there’s many more kids like me out there, and I know that I can make a difference and help people create that unique bond with others that I know shows can create.

Although I’ve gone through a lot of stages in art, I know beyond a doubt that animation is what I am most passionate about. I know this because computer animation is a career I’ve now admired through years. Art as a whole has remained a unifying force throughout millennia, what stays decade after decade, what represents the accomplishments of empires and depicts the progress of humanity. Digital animation, in my opinion, is what will define the modern age, like how Michelangelo’s paintings and sculptures define the Renaissance era and how Frida Kahlo redefined expression of culture and self in the 1900s. Animation has been the culmination of every medium that has come before it, presented in the most effective storytelling form. It contains the nuance in storytelling details books have, the immersive, engaging visuals of movies, and requires the level of dedication found in paintings and sculptures. I believe that I can be one to contribute to the world of animation, an art that I chose to study because of its power to convey so much of human nature, feelings, the many vibrant shades the world contains: truly important, valuable messages that can spread from just a show or movie. It’s really this skill of conveying the details of life that I’ve always admired in animation, and I’ve worked toward learning as much as possible about how to convey it in my own art throughout my high school career. Art has always been an outlet for me, it has helped me understand people and the world around me. It has helped me process my own emotions and express my passion when it was too big to speak about. Animation, especially, feels to me like a language that can reach anyone, no matter their background. Its particular, perfect blend of so many art forms is the ideal medium for expressing the many niches of humanity. My goal is to one day use my work to tell stories that make people feel seen, understood, or even just a little less alone; like what animation has done for me. I want to create characters who represent underrepresented communities, express themes that are near and dear to me, hopefully bring joy to others through heartfelt storytelling. I want my art to have an almost tangible positive impact on the world around me. I believe animation has the power to spark empathy and connection, and I hope that through dedicating my career to it, I can create works that inspires others the same way animation has inspired me throughout my life.

"Willow in the Window" Acrylic on Canvas, 15in x 20in I’ve never been proficient with words, much less ones to express my feelings. This isn’t to say I don’t have a wide vocabulary—as a kid, I spent the majority of my days with my head buried in a book. This habit has stayed with me throughout the years; and with it, my overactive imagination. I’ve always wanted an adventurous, daring life full of color, like the brave protagonists I projected myself onto. For me, art helped me add this color to my life I always craved. My imagination can run wild with it, creating a million possibilities with paints, watercolors, a pen—anything. However, last year, I painted this: not my possibilities, not an immersion of myself in another daring, fun world, but a representation of how I currently felt: what my current situation was. In a way, I was expressing what I couldn’t express with words. I felt trapped: like I had nowhere to go. I felt as though everyone was telling me that there was a whole world of possibilities at my fingertips, but they were all just out of my reach. I had once been a young artist, full of potential, but now, that potential seemed like it wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t enough; I felt stagnant. Much like when I read, I projected these feelings onto another character in my art, another reality. In a way this was so that it wouldn’t feel as real, but also, it was to give myself hope. The character I created, Willow, was trapped in the same way I was. A ghostly character, cursed to haunt the same building her whole afterlife. But in projecting these feelings of lost potential onto a character, I could also project onto her the hope of someday escaping. Of someday moving on to the world promised at my fingertips. Books were my first escape, and through adding a narrative to my art, I could combine my two passions in life to finally find a way express how I felt, how I saw the world, all aspects of myself. Creating Willow gave me an outlet for this sensation of squandered possibility I’d been dealing with. She also gave me a creative way to get out of this emotional pit I found myself in. In brainstorming ways to solve her story, I could find a way to resolve my own. I began illustrating her as a bright character who sometimes had dark moments, much like myself. And in finding possibility in her unique characteristics, I could find hope in mine. I’m glad to say that I don’t feel as trapped anymore. Expressing myself through Willow showed me that though things may feel stagnant, change is always on the horizon. It’s constantly happening all around me, and there are so many things I can do to create change in myself—I just need to believe it can happen.