My past experiences have been fundemental to my future career goals. I grew up with a single mother, and am the first person in my family to go to college. My mom, growing up, would tell me that before she had kids she wanted to own a bakery. My whole life she loved to bake. She’s made cupcakes from scratch for every birthday I’ve ever had. At my brother's 19th birthday, I helped her make shark-themed red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. My dad was abusive towards her for as long as they were married, and to me for as long as they were together during my lifetime. She divorced him, having no money, job experience, or family to fall back on. She needed to get away from him to protect herself and her kids, so she took that risk knowing the potential consequences. I’ve had a dream of pursuing the arts since I was a little kid. I’ve been a dedicated performing and traditional artist for 12 years. In that time I have become a published author (of a poetry collection entitled 'Call Me Kidd', a professional performer whose work has made local news stations, and I have been in over 15 productions. I know I was made for this industry, and I have no doubts about my ability to succeed. My mom has never once doubted me. She’s been my biggest supporter in pursuing my dreams. A large part of me thinks it's because she never got to pursue her own. A lot of parents would consider my dreams unrealistic, and maybe for a lot of people, they are. For me though, I could never see myself doing anything else, and I owe that realization to the support of my mother. I struggled to survive in classroom environments. I was ostracized, and considered 'offputting' by a majority of people in my life. When I entered the workforce I realized that my struggles were not confined to the education system. I went through over six employers within my first two years of working. The workforce destroyed my sense of self-worth. I realized eventually that traditional work environments simply weren’t made with disabled people in mind, and it wasn’t entirely my fault that I struggled to mold myself to unrealistic standards. The only place I've ever felt a sense of belonging to is the arts. When I was involved with the arts as a kid, I felt like a whole human being for the only time in my life. I've known for a long time that the arts are the only thing I'd ever be happy doing with my life. I owe my sense of career ambition and future optimism to my mother because she always believed in me no matter how much I struggled in other aspects of my life. I’m pursuing the arts to honor my mother’s sacrifices. Your generous scholarship could help me achieve my lifelong dreams. I am funding my educational expenses entirely alone, and my efforts will simply not be enough. I am currently enrolled as a freshman in higher education, but I don't know how I will financially be able to continue as a student past my second semester. I’m limited in the amount of both Federal and private loans that I can take out without anyone to cosign on my application, and while I am working throughout the school year, that limited income only goes so far. Your generous scholarship program could help me pursue my dreams and use my artistic capabilities to help others. I appreciate your consideration greatly.

Disney, to me, means happiness. The first time I went to Disneyland, in California, I was six years old. My family didn't have much money, but we saved a long time for that trip, and it was a magical day for me. As a kid, I became fascinated with performance art and the entertainment industry in general. Disney movies have always been a huge inspiration to me and my creative projects. I remember singing the soundtrack of Frozen with my best friend when we were preteens, and watching Pinocchio with my little brother a million times over. My favorite movie growing up was Beauty and the Beast, because I absolutely loved Belle. I was Belle for Halloween like five times in a row (no, really). She was a strong, independent, selfless, and smart woman who embodied everything that I wanted to be. Those movies, and performances, and the pure magic of Disneyland has been such a huge creative inspiration across my life. When I was 17, I actually performed at Disneyland! I sang on stage at California Disney with my high school chorus choir group. I was the only girl in the tenor section, but I like to think that means I could nail Mother Gothel's songs in Tangled. I remember walking into those massive dressing rooms backstage at Disneyland, and putting on my red blouse for the show. We had rehearsed our winter concert for 6+ months prior to that day, and it was so nerve-wracking, but I had such an amazing time and I'm so grateful that I had that opportunity. I loved that day, it's one of my favorite memories, and it majorly boosted my confidence as a performer. Today I am pursuing the performing arts at my dream university. One of my goals as a college student is to participate in the Disney college program. I know that the chances are slim, but the worst I can be told is 'no', and life is too short to let a fear of rejection stop me from taking risks. My dream is to work in the performing arts, and Disney has been a huge part of this journey. I'd love to work in more Disney-related productions, but I'm so unbelievably grateful for the opportunities I've already had. Disney means the world to me and my career, and I hope you'll consider helping me continue to pursue my dreams.

I met my saving grace at the age of nine, when I performed in my first on-stage production. It might seem silly, but that was the moment that changed my life forever. I had kind of a difficult childhood. I had a very dysfunctional family, I grew up in poverty, I grew up with disabilities, and overall my situation was incredibly isolating. When I discovered the arts, however, I found a sense of community for the first time. I can not begin to describe the sense of euphoria that comes with finding your life's passion at such a young age. When I stepped on stage, it was as though the world became brighter. I felt talented, creative, and capable of anything I wanted to do. It's been over a decade since that day, and I've achieved so much. I've performed in over 15 productions, I'm a published author, and I'm now attending my dream university to study for my career in filmmaking. I believe in the value of shooting for the moon, because we only have one life, and I'm not going to waste mine on anything but pursuing my dreams. I am a financially independent student. I have no financial assistance from anyone but myself (and the federal government) in the pursuit of higher education. For this year's tuition and housing, I have managed to take out a loan, but I had to fight for that. No one wants to sign over a student loan to a student with no cosigner and no one to fall back on. Federal loans simply did not offer me enough, and I was denied for many private loans because I did not have a cosigner on my application. I worked 3 jobs for six months before the start of summer semester, and I've applied for over 350 scholarships. Now I've somehow managed to pave my way to attending college. I'm starting class in 2 weeks, and I'm unimaginably excited. I didn't think I'd ever be able to, I thought I'd have to give this amazing opportunity up. I'm so excited for this journey, but I'm also scared. Unfortunately, next year's cost will be an even bigger challenge. This scholarship could help me afford to continue my education. I will be working 2 part-time jobs during the school year, but it won't be enough. I rely on the generosity and kindness of donors like you in order to continue my pursuit of higher education. I greatly appreciate your consideration.

Community is one of the most important things in the world to me. I value supporting people, and I personally believe we as a whole do not do enough to maintain meaningful relationships with our fellow humans. I believe that the hyper-independence of modern American culture has driven us apart in unforeseen ways. I believe in the value of interpersonal relationships. We should be able to lean on each other for physical, emotional, and resource support. Unfortunately, however, that is just not the world we live in–but I don’t think that means it can’t be. As a kid, I really valued helping others. The joy I got from seeing others benefit from my contributions was the closest thing I ever got to feeling in control of the seeming constant crises in the world around me. I was a Girl Scout for about seven years. As a Girl Scout, I participated in countless volunteer efforts. For instance, I visited a nursing home on Christmas to keep residents with no family visitors company, I assisted unhoused populations struggling with food insecurity, and I participated in wildlife conservation efforts. Outside of my Girl Scouts involvement, I was also involved with things like an annual charity 5k, and an annual beach clean-up day growing up. Volunteering became a source of fulfillment for me in a world of constant stress and anxiety. Over time my volunteer efforts have expanded. In 2020 I became involved with my home city’s brand new LGBT organization. Through my efforts I have been able to provide resources to queer community members, who are statistically at a higher risk of poverty and homelessness, especially in our post-pandemic world. I have been able to help organize community events such as an annual “queer hike.” I have also delved into the issues that affect many members of this community outside of their queer/trans experiences. This year I became certified to administer and distribute Narcan (Naloxone). Narcan is a medication that can temporarily reverse an overdose, allowing more time for emergency services to arrive. Members of the LGBT community struggle with mental and physical illness, including substance use disorder and chronic pain, at a considerably higher rate. It’s incredibly important to me to give struggling people in our community a chance to survive long enough to recover from the health conditions we so commonly struggle with, and they can’t do that if they lose their life to overdose. This cause is very near and dear to my heart. I plan to continue volunteer efforts as much as possible in the future. The burden of singlehandedly funding my college education has absorbed most of my current time, but I believe in the power of hard work and think that eventually I’ll be able to jump back into volunteering. My future plans involve volunteering with The Trevor Project, and The Mary S. Roberts Pet Adoption Center Thrift Store. I hope to be able to continue supporting my community very soon, and your generous scholarship opportunity could assist me in getting there sooner. Thank you very much for your consideration.

My identity has always been a complicated thing. I grew up with autism spectrum disorder and had a hard time connecting socially as a result. I also realized I was a lesbian at a very young age, which further isolated me from my peers, especially from other girls. I always felt 'left out of the loop' when it came to girlhood. Growing up I used to want desperately just to want to be like the other girls, but part of me knew I never could be. My experience growing up as a lesbian, in my opinion, was a major contributing factor to the fact that I now identify as gender non-conforming. A lot of girlhood revolves around liking men. It involves being this perfect picture of "effortless" femininity. I envied my peers who weren't putting on womanhood like a costume. They still felt like a girl in sweatpants and a hoodie, but I didn't. I didn't feel like a woman unless I was dressing to the nines, and fighting to fit every expectation of flawless femininity at all times. I was merely a character of myself. My womanhood has always been a performance. When I'm at home, at my most comfortable, it doesn't exist. It took a long time to understand that was I was experiencing wasn't a fault within myself. I realized earlier this year that my gender should bring me joy, it shouldn't be something that I have to fight to accept. I'm still not sure how to put a label on it, but I think that's okay. I'm gender non-conforming, I go by 'she/they' and I'm happy. I'll figure out the words to describe that feeling eventually. One of the communities that helped me feel the most accepted, outside the LGBT community directly, has been the performing arts. I fell in love with the arts at the age of nine, and I've loved it ever since. LGBT people have a long, rich history within the performing arts. Between our history as founders of the horror genre to our culture of drag queen performers, we are inseparable from the arts. We were foundational members of the modern entertainment industry, and countless LGBT people still exist within this career. In fact, the entertainment industry is one of the most LGBT-dominated industries out there. Performance art has a long history of helping people understand concepts that they otherwise would be too close-minded to empathize with. The arts have helped LGBT people gain public respect, acceptance, and love--and I know that progress is still possible through that medium. Whether it be donating performance profits to LGBT organizations like The Trevor Project, or creating inclusive works of art that uplift our community, I absolutely plan to make this community a main focus of my career. I want LGBT people to be able to see themselves represented, and furthermore accepted. This community means a lot to me, and I know I have the means to help.

I've known what I wanted to do with my life ever since I was a little kid, and I have my mother to thank for the self-confidence it has taken to pursue my lifelong dreams. My mom, growing up, would tell me that before she had kids she wanted to own a bakery. My whole life she loved to bake. She’s made cupcakes from scratch for every birthday I’ve ever had. My dad abused her for as long as they were married, and me for as long as they were together during my lifetime. She divorced him, having no money, job experience, or family to fall back on. She needed to get away from him to protect herself and her kids, so she took that risk knowing the potential consequences. I’ve had a dream of pursuing the arts since I was a kid. I’ve been an artist for 12 years. I know I was made for this industry, and I have no doubts about my ability to succeed. My mom has never once doubted me. She’s been my biggest supporter in pursuing my dreams. A large part of me thinks it's because she never got to pursue her own. A lot of parents would consider my dreams unrealistic, and maybe for a lot of people, they are. For me though, I could never see myself doing anything else, and I owe that realization to the support of my mother. I struggled to survive in classroom environments. I was ostracized, and considered 'offputting' by a majority of people in my life. When I entered the workforce I realized that my struggles were not confined to the education system. I went through over six employers within my first two years of working. The workforce destroyed my sense of self-worth. I realized eventually that traditional work environments simply weren’t made with disabled people in mind, and it wasn’t my fault that I struggled to mold myself to unrealistic standards. The only place I've ever felt a sense of belonging to is the arts. When I was involved with the arts as a kid, I felt like a whole human being for the only time in my life. I've known for a long time that the arts are the only thing I'd ever be happy doing with my life. I owe my sense of career ambition and future optimism to my mother, because she always believed in me no matter how much I struggled in other aspects of my life. I’m pursuing the arts to honor my mother’s sacrifices. Your generous scholarship opportunity could help me afford to continue my education and to achieve my lifelong dreams. I hope you will decide to be a part of my educational journey and I appreciate your consideration.

I grew up a very isolated kid. I was ostracized by friends and family growing up because of my disabilities. I struggled to make meaningful connections. I felt "inhuman" my entire upbringing. Realizing I was gay was detrimental to me because it meant one more thing that separated me from everyone else in my life. I blamed my queerness for the relationship I had with my friends, my family, and especially my dad. I thought maybe if I could attain that picture-perfect idea of being a "good kid" I could somehow earn the love I never got. My parents divorced the same year that I came out as gay, and even though explicit homophobia in my upbringing was few and far between, I couldn't help but feel like I'd failed in some way. The relationship I had with my mother got worse over time. She lived a difficult, stressful life and often took it out on me as a teenager. She didn't have friends or other family to talk to, and she didn't see a point in making any, so I ended up taking the brunt of her emotional outbursts. I sought out love in other places, because I felt unloved at home, but being a lesbian in a relatively conservative pocket of your state doesn't bode well for healthy adolescent experiences. I sought out love in men, in women, in anyone who would give me the time of day. I knew I was gay, it's something I've never been unsure about. That fact, however, made me resent that being a lesbian was something I couldn't change. I spent my entire upbringing trying to prove that I was capable of being "loved," and being a lesbian felt like a sentence to never experience that. It's been a difficult road to get to the place of acceptance I'm in today. I really struggled growing up as a queer kid, but today I couldn't be prouder of my identity. The LGBT community has been my biggest support in overcoming my struggles and I couldn't be more grateful for the people who've supported me in this amazing community. I'm proud of who I am, being a lesbian is my favorite part of myself, and I owe the journey it took to get there to the community that proved that I was indisputably capable of being loved. It took me a while to find others like me, but one of the places I found other queer people was through the arts. Discovering the performing arts twelve years ago brought me a sense of community that I never would have otherwise had. Even before most of us knew we were LGBT+, theater brought the few queer people I knew growing up together on the basis of something beautiful and cathartic. It's complicated why the arts attract LGBT+ people more often than not, but being welcomed into such an amazing community and over time becoming someone who new participants in the performing arts could turn to has always been a big source of pride. I know the performing arts are where I belong, and I couldn't be happier to be pursuing such an amazing industry.

My greatest achievement is that I am a published author. I am the co-author of a one-act murder mystery play script that was initially written in 2019. I also am a featured author in a collection of poetry published in January of 2023. My proudest, and most recent, writing accomplishment is the book I am currently authoring. It is a collection of poetry about my experiences growing up in a difficult situation, and my journey as an artist. I've included a sample poem below: “Borderline.” I am a shiny object on the river bottom floor I am but material, a mannequinistic glint You dive head first down into the blackness You brush your fingertips against me You prove, in this, that I am real. I think I see the sunlight as you swim towards the surface Then I feel your fingers loosen, I sink back into the blackness as you race towards the air I am sinking, screaming, drowning… …Yet again. My dreams for the future are the same as they've always been since I first discovered the arts as a little kid. I want to help more people feel the joy and love that I've found as an artist. When I was involved with the arts as a kid, I felt like a whole human being who was capable of anything I wanted to do, for the first time in my life. I've known for a long time that the arts are the only thing I'd ever be happy doing with my life, and I'm as sure as ever that the entertainment industry is where I belong. My long-term career goal is to own my own production company. I have a passion for the horror genre and the style of absurdism/surrealism. My artistic inspiration comes from people like Ari Aster, Louis Wane, Neil Cicierga, and though I'm far from morally aligned with Alfred Hitchcock--I still appreciate his work in the horror genre. I would like to create movies along the same lines of Green Room by Anish Savjani, Neil Kopp, and Victor Moyers, Horse Girl by Duplass Brothers Productions, and Midsommar by Ari Aster. I also hope to tell stories that showcase communities that are still owed their moment in the spotlight. This includes POC individuals, women, disabled people, and people from different religious and cultural backgrounds. My long-term dreams are to create works of art that act as political and social commentary, and in an ideal world, I'd like to use any profits of these productions to support causes that are near and dear to my heart. Such as the Trevor Project, and End Overdose. I want to create art that changes perspectives because I believe that art is one of the most powerful ways to change the worldview of otherwise closed-minded individuals. I want to make a difference and to put my creative abilities to good use in a career that I have passion and love for.

My favorite quote is from an interview with classical composer, musician, and poet Keaton Henson. In response to a question about his album, 'Dear', Keaton says "I think a lot of art is trying to make someone love you." To a lot of people, this quote doesn't mean much, but to me, it's a perfect representation of what drove me to pursue the arts. I have Autism Spectrum Disorder and ADHD. As a result of this, I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age. I had a lot of adverse childhood experiences because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I suffered through a lot of deeply traumatic instances because of the childhood I endured, and the harm this caused to my developing brain only further isolated me from my family and friends. I was always very grateful for the efforts my mother put in to protect my brother and me, but unfortunately it wasn't enough to keep us unharmed. I found my emotional outlet at the age of nine when I performed in my first on-stage production. It might seem silly, but that was the moment that changed my life forever. I learned that the arts were a medium for me to let go of what felt like a crushing weight of the experiences I'd been carrying alone for so long. For the first time in my life, I felt a genuine connection to those around me and the community I'd been isolated from for so many years. I've always known I wanted to pursue the arts. I've known this from the moment I first walked into a black box theater at the age of nine. I felt isolated as a child, but other kids growing up in a situation like that don't have to. I want to make the arts a more inviting and accessible place. I want to spread the message that it's okay to do things because they make you happy, even if you're not some artistic prodigy because profitability and perfection should never be the basis of human expression. We all need an outlet, and I want more people to have access to the one that got me through so much.

The arts have been the love of my life for as long as I can remember. They're an integral part of who I am and the person I want to become. I am an acting major at a performing arts college in Hollywood, CA. I got into my dream school in January of 2023 after completing my audition in December of the previous year. When I got the news that I was accepted to my dream school, I could hardly believe it. After a lifetime of adverse experiences, I couldn't believe my life was taking a turn for the better. I have Autism Spectrum Disorder and ADHD. As a result of this, I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age. I had a lot of very adverse childhood experiences because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I suffered through a lot of psychological trauma because of the experiences I endured growing up, and it left a lasting impact on my life. I developed a lot of complex psychiatric issues in my upbringing, and still struggle with many of these conditions today. I was always very grateful for the efforts my mother put in to protect my brother and me, but unfortunately, it wasn't enough to keep us unharmed. I found my emotional outlet at the age of nine when I performed in my first on-stage production. It might seem silly, but that was the moment that changed my life forever. I learned that the arts were a medium for me to express the pain and injustice I'd endured. I am a firm believer that the content we consume shapes the collective understanding of marginalized groups. I never saw any part of myself accurately represented in the arts. I felt incredibly alone because I was the first person "like me" that most people had ever met. I wished every day that I had some kind of media to engage with that gave me a sense of community or belonging because I didn't get that from the people in my life. I wanted to do that. I wanted to be capable of changing the collective opinion. That is what led to my lifelong goal of being a filmmaker. I wanted to be the one who put people like me into the media in a positive light, so that other people, especially kids, in the future didn't have to feel quite so alone. It's my life goal to break through the glass ceiling of the male-dominated industry that is filmmaking. I want to create a space for people like me to share their thoughts, opinions, and ideas with the world. It's not much, but I remember the first time I saw a movie with a lesbian protagonist, and I want people from all walks of life to be able to experience that joy and excitement.

Growing up with ADHD is harder than anyone prepares you for when you receive that diagnosis. I went through the diagnostic screening process when I was nine years old, and scored nearly 100% in every category of the exam process, meaning my symptoms were considered significantly impactful to my life. Despite this, however, I received no support for my disorder. I didn't even understand what was and was not a symptom of my ADHD. When I was diagnosed, no one told me that my struggles with executive dysfunction, task initiation, emotional regulation, and organization were related to my disorder. I didn't know there was a word for the feeling of desperately wanting to do a task but being physically unable to force myself to do it. I was called lazy, unmotivated, and dumb by educators in my life because of my struggles with executive dysfunction. All my life I have struggled with debilitating memory issues. I struggle to remember to eat, to remember to turn the stove burner off, and to remember vitally important information. I constantly lose items of mine, and spend hours at a time searching for them to no avail. I regularly lose my house keys, my wallet, my cell phone, my cup of coffee--everything. Growing up, I felt like a failure. As far as I knew, the only things ADHD should have affected were my hyperactivity and my attention span. Even then, no one believed that those were legitimate struggles of mine. Every teacher in my childhood chalked up my disorder's symptoms to a lack of trying, and shamed me for doing the best that I could. ADHD prevented me from having equal access to education. My brain was not wired to function in a classroom environment, but rather than accepting that I was born different from other kids, I was forced to mold to the standards of students who didn't have my same struggles. I was not accommodated for whatsoever. I didn't have a 504 plan, I didn't get extra test time, I didn't get assignment extensions--nothing. I was an incredibly gifted kid. I was a published co-author by the time I turned 18. I am an accomplished writer, performer, and social advocate--but those skills were not fostered in the education system. For a very long time, I didn't associate my struggles with ADHD. I internalized the blame. I thought that my struggles were a personal failing rather than the fault of a lifelong disorder that was not being accommodated. Now I am educated on my own disorder, and I know exactly what I need to succeed. I advocate for my needs in the classroom and workplace environments, and I encourage other people with ADHD to do the same. I love the creativity and out-of-the-box thinking that ADHD has given me. I wouldn't be who I am without my ADHD. Despite the ways it has caused me to struggle, I am so proud to be who I am.

My mom, growing up, would tell me that before she had kids she wanted to own a bakery. My whole life she loved to bake. She’s made cupcakes from scratch for every birthday I’ve ever had. My dad abused her for as long as they were married, and me for as long as they were together during my lifetime. She divorced him, having no money, job experience, or family to fall back on. She needed to get away from him to protect herself and her kids, so she took that risk knowing the potential consequences. I’ve had a dream of pursuing the arts since I was a kid. I’ve been an artist for 12 years. I know I was made for this industry, and I have no doubts about my ability to succeed. My mom has never once doubted me. She’s been my biggest supporter in pursuing my dreams. A large part of me thinks it's because she never got to pursue her own. A lot of parents would consider my dreams unrealistic, and maybe for a lot of people, they are. For me though, I could never see myself doing anything else, and I owe that realization to the support of my mother. I struggled to survive in classroom environments. I was ostracized, and considered 'offputting' by a majority of people in my life. When I entered the workforce I realized that my struggles were not confined to the education system. I went through over six employers within my first two years of working. The workforce destroyed my sense of self-worth. I realized eventually that traditional work environments simply weren’t made with disabled people in mind, and it wasn’t my fault that I struggled to mold myself to unrealistic standards. The only place I've ever felt a sense of belonging to is the arts. When I was involved with the arts as a kid, I felt like a human being for the only time in my life. I've known for a long time that the arts are the only thing I'd ever be happy doing with my life. I owe my sense of career ambition and future optimism to my mother, because she always believed in me no matter how much I struggled in other aspects of my life. I’m pursuing the arts to honor my mother’s sacrifices. Your generous scholarship could help me not have to give up the opportunity to attend my dream university. I am funding my educational expenses entirely alone and don’t have a cosigner on my loans–making me ineligible to take out the amount necessary to cover my expenses. I work three jobs, but my efforts alone will not be enough. This scholarship could help me pursue my dreams and use my artistic capabilities to help others. I hope to have you as a part of my educational journey, I appreciate your consideration greatly.

"Dear Greta, I do not claim not to make mistakes. However, Saturday was incredibly busy and I was very overwhelmed. I struggle with psychiatric and neurological conditions that make it much more difficult for me to manage chaos than it would be for the average person. I experience panic attacks and severe episodes of dissociation, both of which I was attempting to manage discreetly last Saturday. I work three jobs, I have not had stable housing in over a year, and I deal with complex health issues that make existing in the workforce a significant challenge. I make mistakes, I don’t deny that, but my actions are never out of neglect or malicious intent and I don’t appreciate feeling antagonized over trivial issues. I am never really doing well, but I’ve been under significant added stress in recent months, and that stress is partially related to the conditions of this work environment. Things like being handed write-ups for trivial issues that can be easily resolved and were not caused out of malicious intent or neglect are not warranted and it serves to make this environment feel hostile to employees like myself. I put all my efforts into doing well in the workplace, I would never intentionally complete a task poorly or forget items on the to-do list. I take pride in a job well done and do not believe in half-measures, so long as they are avoidable. I am, however, a human being who has many added hindrances compared to her colleagues. I do not do well under unnecessary chaos, and the afternoon of Saturday the 29th was nothing short of. This whole ordeal and related instances in recent times have made me begin to dread coming to work and were ultimately the reason I made the decision not to come in on Friday (the 5th of May.) I spent the previous morning speaking with my therapist/case manager and our conversation brought to light how much this pattern of behavior has affected me. I did not want to have this conversation, it has not gone well in previous workplaces and it is a deeply personal topic to speak about, but ultimately I’m exhausted and can not keep functioning in an environment where my every move is scrutinized or misinterpreted. This was not something I could have articulated in the moment on Sunday the 7th, and that is why I have taken the time to provide a written statement. At this time I will be refusing to sign off on Saturday the 29th's write-up. My name, the date, and my signature are below." I wrote this to the management of my workplace today. It was a last-ditch effort, amongst many last-ditch efforts, across many workplaces that have extinguished my very will to live. My mental illness has made me more sucesseptable to the exploitative nature of modern entry-level work, and that fact has cost me over six jobs. I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt last year largely because of my most recent former place of employment. The impact of existing in the workforce as a disabled, mentally ill employee has destroyed my entire sense of purpose and self-image. For a long time, I have felt that this is a reflection of my capabilities, but it's not. I am a published writer, an actor of 13 years across over 15 productions, and was a featured performer on KTLA5, Fox11, and SoCal News Stations. I was accepted to a world-renowned performing arts college and awarded an institutional scholarship for the quality of my audition performance. I am not dumb, incapable, or lesser accomplished. I have been an avid volunteer and community advocate for most of my life. I visited a nursing home on Christmas to keep residents with no family visitors company, I assisted unhoused populations struggling with food insecurity, and I participated in wildlife conservation efforts. I was involved with an annual charity 5k, and an annual beach clean-up day. I have volunteered with my local community's LGBT organization, and have aided in overdose-prevention programs. I am not lesser accomplished, less kind, or any less human because of my mental illnesses. My mental illness stems from a long history of severe psychological trauma in childhood. I survived an incredibly difficult upbringing, and I'm proud to have gotten to the other side of it, albeit not unscathed. My difficulties with mental health have made me a kinder, more empathetic human being who is more in touch with her community and their needs. I know exactly where I belong and what I want to do with my life, and living with mental illness has shaped that greatly. I don't belong in industries that don't appreciate my work ethic, and that take advantage of my compassion. I belong in the arts, and the last 13 years of my life have proved that to me indisputably. My time in the arts is the only time in my life I have ever felt truly "human." Unfortunately, college isn't free, especially education of this quality. I grew up in poverty, and I have no support in pursuing my dreams. I have no cosigner on my loans, and therefore no ability to take out the full amount necessary to make my tuition payments. I work three jobs, jobs that largely do not appreciate me or the efforts I put in, and it's incredibly draining. I, quite honestly, have been at my wit's end for months. I am not well, and my psychiatric health continues to decline because of the hours I have poured into saving for my tuition. Nevertheless, I pull it together every single day, and I do what has to be done. I'm going to achieve my lifelong dreams if it's the last thing I do. Mental illness has taken a lot from me, but it's not going to take this.

I have never been socially accepted. I was born disabled and I never fit in with the other kids in my community. In my early childhood, the only friend I had was my younger brother. When I was about six or seven I joined my first sports team. It was an all-girls, community soccer team that met every Wednesday to practice. My mom sat by the sidelines and cheered me on. She brought cut-up orange slices for me and my teammates. I still remember the sunshine peeking through the clouds and the fresh dew on the green grass during early morning practices. I played and played for hours with these girls, and it was one of the most fun experiences I've ever had. I wasn't the best player, I wasn't a prodigy by any means, but that's not what made sports special to me. I had never had common grounds to bond with my peers over, and this was the first time I'd ever felt a sense of community before. I didn't stick with soccer for all that long. I liked it, of course, but I have a bad case of ADHD and I tend to get bored with routine. When I was a little older, I joined a golf team led by one of the teachers at my middle school. I played with that team for a little over two years. We were allowed to skip out on PE class twice a week to instead go practice our skills with our coach. I loved my teammates. I loved getting to meet new people and bonding over our mutual love of sports. Everyone in that group was a girl, but my (male) coach never made us feel belittled or patronized. When I was in high school I was a tri-athlete (quad-athlete?). In the fall I was on the cross-country team. Then in the winter, I played water polo. In the spring, I was on two teams. I was a pole vaulter for track and field and I was on the swim team. I also was part of a community golfing group that met twice a week, as my high school did not offer a golf program. Looking back, I have no idea how I balanced so much, but I'm glad I did. It gave me an outlet for all my nervous energy as a kid, and I learned a lot about myself. Of all the many sports I've played throughout my life, golf has been the most fulfilling. Golfing was a place of peace for me. It was an opportunity to mull over all my thoughts while I learned new techniques and had fun with my fellow golfers. In my time as a member of that community golf group, I had mix-gendered teammates for the first time. Honestly, I was ill-prepared for the amount of backlash and criticism that female golfers, and athletes in general, receive from people who are supposed to be their biggest supporters. The criticism I received, however, inadvertently made me a stronger, more confident human being. In English class freshman year, I was asked to pick three words that described me. I've been asked that question many times since then throughout my education, but my answer has always stayed the same. "Ambitious, kind, innovative." Playing sports growing up made me realize that I exemplified these traits and my experiences in athletics have given me the confidence to pursue my dreams. I am endlessly grateful for the time I spent as a golfer and I hope one day to find the means to return to this passion.

I grew up with a handful of neurological disabilities. People don't often consider them so, but children with things like Autism and ADHD are usually remarkably intelligent. I, and many peers of mine with the same conditions, were considered "gifted" in our childhoods. The problem was, however, that it never sticks. The education system's response to noticing academic talents within a young child is to push that child to do more and more and more. That child is being made demands of at every corner. "Do the more emotionally draining work," "Take home twice as much homework," "Involve yourself in so many extracurricular activities that there's no time to rest." Kids are human, they're just little versions of fully grown people, and no one--absolutely no one--likes being pushed beyond their limits. Have you ever heard the phrase “bàofùxìng áoyè?” It’s a Chinese phrase translating loosely to “revenge bedtime procrastination.” It seems like a bit of a silly phrase, but in actuality, it tells us a lot about how people as a whole work. "Revenge bedtime procrastination" refers to the act of staying up late at night in order to make time for hobbies or leisure time. As the name suggests, it's a subtle form of revenge for the time that is being taken from you by things you find unfulfilling. Oftentimes it’s not a conscious choice, it’s actually the subliminal result of long-term stress. Motivation is created by a neurotransmitter called dopamine. Dopamine is only produced when someone experiences positive, mentally stimulating events such as engaging in their hobbies. Dopamine-seeking behavior is "self-regulating" behavior. It's an unconscious effort to self-soothe when the stress of not having adequate enough time for fun and leisure starts to catch up. We need dopamine in order to function, it’s the basis for our sense of joy, motivation, and will to carry forward. This means that contrary to the antagonistic nature of what most people assume, children who draw in class or refuse to do their homework after a long day are experiencing a reaction to long-term stress or chronic over-exertion. That is why this behavior is more common in "gifted kids." I love to learn, I always have, and most gifted children have an innate desire to absorb new information. The problem is the delivery method. Learning can be exciting, it can be a dopamine-producing experience that encourages children to carry forward and continue to learn, but in the modern day, it's simply not structured that way. Kids are not wired to sit still and quiet for 6-7 hours a day. Many kids don't learn anything through the hands-off method that schools run their education off of. It's not hard to imagine why gifted kids often lose their drive for learning. As a gifted kid whose desire for learning was continually crushed by the mainstream education system, I think I can speak for many of us when I say that one of the most effective ways we still managed to learn was through educational entertainment mediums. Television programs geared towards kids are often full of educational content, and kids genuinely do learn a lot from this type of media. The myth of television rotting the brains of our youth is, well, a myth. As a child, I learned almost everything that I continued to pursue an education in from television programs. I learned science from Bill Nye, I learned communication and emotional regulation tools through Arthur, and I learned language and storytelling skills from The Powerpuff Girls. I am actually a published author in the modern day, and I owe that to the shows that inspired my lifelong love of language and learning. It's my personal stance that entertainment media is the most subtle yet effective way to teach children important skills. My ongoing role in both writing and the entertainment industry was founded off the idea of uplifting others through art, and gifted kids are no exception. I want to create media that teaches kids self-confidence, boundaries, language skills, and other vital skills that will improve their lives and give them the foundation necessary to thrive both academically and in their personal lives.

Chloe Kidd is a proudly disabled actress, filmmaker, and writer best known for her work both in the horror genre and in social activism across the globe.

When the pandemic started, I never thought that I of all people would be at risk. I knew the risk for immune-compromised people, and elderly people, and maybe there would be a few rare cases where someone like me could have serious effects. You never think it will be you until it is. I was a healthy 19-year-old on a gap year after high school to save money for her college expenses--then suddenly I was a 19-year-old with debilitating brain fog, memory loss, constant stomach aches, joint pain, and chronic fatigue. Worst of all, I was a 19-year-old with no answers. No doctor in the world had an explanation. It was 'too new to know anything', and there wasn't enough research. No one knew what the long-term effects of Covid-19 would actually look like back when I started experiencing new symptoms post-Covid. I thought eventually they would know, I thought that there would be research done or studies run or something that would give the world answers--but there never was. My college dreams were completely derailed by just how debilitating the mysterious symptoms I was dealing with were. No one had a diagnosis to even give me at the time. I could sleep for 14 hours and still be exhausted. I couldn't remember how to do basic tasks that I'd known for years, like tying a knot or walking down a set of stairs. I was nauseous 24/7, for months on end, and exercise of any kind became an impossibility. Over time this all had a massive impact on my psychological well-being. The pandemic and my long-term suffering spurred emerging symptoms of some incredibly serious psychiatric disorders that many standard professionals refused to even treat. I was turned away from every resource and treated like I was insane. I had never felt so alone in my entire life. In 2022 I made a decision that in hindsight I would not repeat. In the moment, however, it felt like the only option I had. I ended up in the hospital for a suicide attempt in March of last year, and I spent three additional days in an inpatient psychiatric hospital. I was so hopeless after three years of nothing but my life spiraling downhill, I didn't know what else to do. It's sad that it came to that, but what happened actually got me connected to resources. I was assigned a case manager and a psychiatrist, and I finally got on medication that lifted the burden of some of my symptoms. It was like, for the first time in years, I could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. My post-covid health issues did not resolve and I doubt they will anytime soon. 3 years later I'm still fighting, but with the help of my psychiatric care team, I now have the energy to continue that fight. That same year I decided that it was time for me to go back to school. I applied for my dream university, and to my amazement, I got in! The only thing standing between me and attending my dream school is my financial situation. I have no cosigner on my student loans which bars me from borrowing the full amount necessary to afford my education. I have no financial help from any family or friends, and despite working multiple jobs, my efforts alone will not be enough. I hope you have enjoyed my story, but most of all, I hope you'll decide to be a part of it. I greatly appreciate your consideration and thank you for your time.

To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Even though its not overtly present, if you spend enough time in these industries you will be made aware that these biases still exist. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture, and I think that has to be one of the most disingenuous ways to create art. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through entertainment.

I grew up with multiple disabilities of mostly either a neurological or psychological nature. I was diagnosed with ADHD at a very early age due to the extreme nature of my symptoms. Many girls are not diagnosed at all, and even if they are, their struggles are not typically noticed until a much later age than would be typical for boys with the same condition. For very similar reasons, the fact that I also had autism was missed for many many years. I grew up with debilitating social deficits and sensory issues with no explanation as to why. I didn't feel like a human being. I felt entirely unlike the other people in my life. I struggled to connect to my peers in any meaningful way, and I faced constant bullying that I did not grasp the weight of at the time. I didn't understand that people were constantly making jokes at my expense, and using me to get the things they wanted. As a result of my social struggles, I continued to give them chance after chance to be my friends, because I didn't understand their true intent. I didn't have any basis for what friendship was supposed to look like, so I settled for whatever limited forms of positive connection I could get, regardless of how much harm it did to my self-worth. The only outlet I ever had to deal with my lifelong struggles was the arts. I first discovered the arts at the age of nine. From the moment I first discovered the arts, I knew that this was my home. In the moments I was creating, nothing else mattered. I felt like a person, a person capable of anything she wanted to do in life, a person who wasn't going to be defined by the brain she was born with. I felt so alive, and I knew that I wanted other people to experience that for themselves. This piece is called "a Place to Scream." The arts are a source of catharsis to me. They've always been an outlet for me to deal with the frustration and emotional turmoil of my upbringing. Sometimes, as a kid, I felt so overcome with emotion that all I wanted was to scream at the top of my lungs. Art became that resource for me. The rainbow infinity symbol is the preferred symbol of the autistic community. It symbolizes the vast, non-linear spectrum of experiences within this neurotype. I have a complicated relationship with the brain I was born with, but the thing is, I wouldn't trade being a part of such a loving community for the world. This piece is a representation of the struggles I faced as someone who grew up disabled. It represents the fact that all my life I deeply resented who I was. I didn't understand what was wrong with me, or why I was so fundamentally "inhuman." I used to cry to my mother about how I "didn't know how to be a person," but no one I ever expressed that to knew what I meant. Today, I do not resent the fact that I was born the way I am, but it does still hurt that the world was not built for people like me. I know in my heart that the arts are the only industry with which I would ever feel happy spending my life. I know that the career path I've chosen is right for me and that I will find ways to help others feel less alone along the way.

My finances have become incredibly important over the last year. In January of this year (2023) I was accepted to my dream university. I unfortunately have no one to support me in my journey of pursuing a better life. I have no one to cosign on my loans, and therefore, I am ineligible to take out the full amount needed to pursue my education. I also have no one in my life who is able to contribute a dime towards my education. My situation puts me at a major disadvantage when it comes to affording my college journey. I was accepted to my dream school, however, and because of that I am incredibly determined to pay my own way through college education. This school will allow me to pursue my lifelong dreams, and that is worth all the time and effort in the world. I currently work three jobs. I am a groundkeeper for an amusement park, I am a content creator for a company, and I have a small business of my own. My dream is actually to be a business owner, but the business I’d like to own is separate from my current side-hustle of making jewelry. My dream is to own my own production company. I was a child actor, and I’ve been in over 15 productions throughout the course of my life. I am also a published author, and my performance work has ended up on the news a handful of times. My work in the entertainment industry has led me to big dreams. I want to found a production company with the people who have been a consistent and invaluable part of my lifelong career, and attending my dream school is a surefire way to make sure I have access to the education necessary to achieve my dreams. In order to afford what it’s going to take to attend my dream university, finances have become an incredibly important part of my daily life. In order to pay my tuition, I will have to come up with a total of 28,000 dollars for this school year. It seems like a lot of money, and it is, it’s going to be incredibly difficult for me to achieve this goal–but I’m determined to do it. (Even though it’s giving me high blood pressure in my early 20’s) Budgeting has become a skill that I’ve quickly picked up over the last year. I have a notebook where I write down the hours that I am scheduled per week at my groundskeeping job. I also write down the assignments I have due (because I am paid per assignment not per hour) for my content creation job, and the orders I have received that week from my small business. I currently have about $2,500 dollars saved this year, and I hope to be able to pick up more hours once the amusement park I work for becomes more popular in the summer. Budgeting can be challenging, but it’s absolutely necessary to achieve financial goals. I grew up in poverty, and in some ways, it gave me an idea of how the process of budgeting works. Growing up with a single mother who barely made ends meet was a very difficult thing, and I don’t think that’s how anyone should be introduced to the concept of finances, but for me it did help me get a head start on my understanding of budgeting. My journey of becoming financially educated is just beginning, but I believe I’ve come a long way and I’m excited to learn more. The best financial advice I ever received was from my mother. I grew up impoverished. My dad was abusive and manipulative, and my mom was trapped at home raising four kids. She didn't have a college education or work experience or anyone in her life to help her get out of that terrible situation. There was no one to watch the kids, no one to support her if she had wanted to work, she had no way out. My mom has always said in passing that 'she'll make it work, she always does.' The situation I spent my childhood in was no exception. My mother, without a dime to her name, pushed through every obstacle and found a full-time job with no degree that could (just barely) support her well enough so that she could get her two remaining children (my older siblings were adults by this point) away from that dangerous situation. I might have grown up in poverty, but I made it out alive, and that might not have happened if my mother didn't make the sacrifices that she did. I myself have adopted the phrase "I'll make it work, I always do," because sometimes acknowledging that there is no other option can push you towards a seemingly impossible goal.

I had to confront systematic oppression head-on from an early age. Between growing up the only queer person I knew in a conservative pocket of California, and growing up disabled, I didn't have much in common with my peers. My peers cruised through their childhoods unaware that their basic rights were being debated in the background of their everyday lives. I, on the other hand, knew that my livelihood was based upon the decisions of people I had no individual power over. I have lived a life of constant chaos for as long as I can remember. In a lot of ways, this was negatively impactful for me, especially to my psychological well-being. However, I also believe that my experiences made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. As a kid, I really valued helping others. The joy I got from seeing others benefit from my contributions was the closest thing I ever got to feeling in control of the world around me. I was a Girl Scout for about seven years. As a Girl Scout, I participated in countless volunteer efforts. For instance, I visited a nursing home on Christmas to keep residents with no family visitors company, I assisted unhoused populations struggling with food insecurity, and I participated in wildlife conservation efforts. Outside of my Girl Scouts involvement, I was also involved with things like an annual charity 5k, and an annual beach clean-up day growing up. Volunteering became a source of fulfillment for me in a world of constant stress and anxiety. Over time my volunteer efforts have expanded. This year I became certified to administer and distribute Narcan (Naloxone), and I make efforts to educate others on the harm reduction movement. I have become educated on systemic issues that do not directly impact me, such as police brutality against POC (especially black) individuals and the rise of anti-Asian violence as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic. I have also put time and effort into educating myself on the prison industrial complex and my research has led me to become an avid prison reformist (/abolitionist). I spend my spare time volunteering with my local community's LGBT organization and helping to open a local chapter of a nationwide Worker's Rights organization. I also have plans of volunteering with the Trevor Project, a lifeline for LGBT youth considering suicide or self-harm. Advocacy is more than a passion project for me, it guides the basis of everything I do because I am personally affected by the lack of social resources for marginalized communities. I have struggled with complex psychiatric issues, ableism, homophobia, sexism, poverty, and workplace exploitation. I know what it's like to feel like the world is against you and I want to help people never have to feel like that again.

I didn't get to have a normal childhood. Between growing up the only queer person I knew in a conservative pocket of California, and growing up disabled, I didn't have much in common with my peers. I have lived a life of constant chaos for as long as I can remember. In a lot of ways, this was negatively impactful for me, especially to my psychological wellbeing. However, I also believe that my experiences made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. I grew up confronting the reality of systematic oppression from an early age. I realized I was gay at the age of maybe 10, and I resented it. I was disabled, in an impoverished, broken home, and unable to connect to my peers in genuine ways as a result of my autism. Being gay was just one more thing that separated me from everyone in my life. I felt like an alien, I always had, but in my mind being gay was something I could change and by admitting otherwise I was losing the one part of myself that was still alike other girls my age. I struggled a lot as a kid, but I had an outlet that helped me more than anything else in the world--The performing arts. To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. Many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. This industry still falls into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of entertainment has historically harmed. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through art. Winning this scholarship could help me not have to abandon the oppurtunity of pursuing education at my dream university. I have no means to financially afford tuition, despite working multiple jobs. I have no one to cosign on my loans, which makes me ineligible to take out the amount I need to afford my educational expenses. If I can not come up with the money on my own, I don't get to go. I am doing this all by myself, and despite my best efforts, there is a large chance my financial barriers will prevent me from pursuing this amazing opportunity. Your generous help could help me afford to pursue my dreams.

My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities are often demonized in popular culture. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through art. I am a first gen student who was brought up in poverty by a single mother. My career dreams have been influenced largely by the fact that my mother did not have the opportunity to pursue her own. My mom, growing up, would tell me that before she had kids she dreamed of owning a bakery. My whole life she loved to bake. She’s made cupcakes from scratch for every birthday, and every special occasion throughout my life. She never got to pursue that dream. She gave it all up in order to get my brother and me away from our severely abusive dad. My mother's sacrifices quite literally saved my life. I’ve had a dream of pursuing the performing arts since I was a little kid. My mom has never once doubted me. She’s been my biggest supporter in pursuing my dreams. I was a child actor, and I've been in over 15 productions throughout the last 10 years. I am a published author, a professional performer, and my work has even made the news a handful of times. I would have never gotten to this point if it weren't for the sacrifices and support of my mother. This year I was accepted to study at my dream university. The day I got my acceptance letter was one of the happiest days of my life. My mom and I got food from my favorite restaurant to celebrate, and I bought my first lottery ticket that night because I couldn't believe my luck. Since then, however, I have discovered just how difficult pursuing this opportunity is going to be. I'm doing this all on my own. I have no cosigner on my loans, which prevents me from taking out the full amount I need for my tuition. I work three jobs right now because no one in my life has the means to contribute a dime toward my college education. Unfortunately, my efforts will be nowhere close to enough. Getting into this school is all I've ever dreamed of and now I might have to give it up because of my financial difficulties. Winning this scholarship would help me not have to give up on pursuing this amazing opportunity. Your generous scholarship program would help me afford my tuition, and overall, it would help me make my mother's sacrifices worth something. I appreciate your consideration and hope you will choose to be apart of my journey.

When I was a junior in high school, I auditioned for a role in my school’s spring musical production of ‘Once on This Island’. After months of hard work, it was finally the day before our opening performance. This would be the first show of mine that my Stepdad, Rob, would be able to attend. My mom and biological father got divorced some years before this, and it took me a while to warm up to her new partner. Like any kid, I wanted to believe my parents were perfect for each other, because anything less than that felt like a reflection on my quality as a daughter. I grew up with autism spectrum disorder and I struggled immensely to recognize abuse and manipulation as a result. Looking back, my bio dad didn’t care about his children in the slightest. He was physically, emotionally, and verbally abusive, and he only stayed in our lives to gain the praise of others for the carefully crafted facade of being a “good dad.” My stepdad, Rob, was the closest thing I ever had to someone I could consider a father figure, but I was just a kid, and I didn’t know how to express that I loved him without admitting to myself that I’d never earn that love from my bio dad. Rob was supposed to come to the opening night of my show. I was so excited to show off my acting skills. He loved the art I created, and it felt really nice to have a parent who cared about my passions. I didn’t know at the time that he would never live to see my show. The morning of opening night I was awoken to the sound of my mother screaming her fiance’s name in the living room. She was on the phone with 911 while she desperately performed chest compressions. My brother and I walked out a few moments later to see paramedics carrying a stretcher through the door. They took Rob to the hospital, and he passed away that night from heart failure. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I really wish I could have told him that he was always a parent to me, and that I really loved him, but he died having never heard me say those words. The guilt was all-consuming for a very long time. His death left my mom, brother, and I in financial ruin. My mom was suddenly a single mother who made only a handful above the poverty line. He had no life insurance, and we were left with nothing to survive on except the money we made selling our former home. The three of us moved into a one bedroom apartment together. Between the grief and the stress of financial hardship, my mother became a very different person to the mom I had grown up with. We fought a lot, and the sudden onset chaos of my homelife ended up giving me serious psychiatric problems later in life.

One of the biggest challenges I have overcome in pursuing my dreams has been surviving a difficult childhood. I came out as a lesbian on the same day that gay marriage was legalized in the US. At the time, I was 13 years old. My father was upset about this news. He and I have always had a tumultuous relationship. He was abusive when I was young, but when my mother divorced him, he learned to dial back his violent tendencies to keep custody of my brother and I. Everyone talked about my dad like he was a "changed man" after the divorce. As a kid, you want to believe that your parents are good, loving human beings, so I convinced myself everyone was right. My dad and I had good moments. He took me to universal studios because he knew my lifelong dream was to be involved with the film industry, and he'd bring me a cherry Coke from the gas station when he went because he knew it was my favorite drink. Contrary to how people picture it, abusive parents aren't constantly mean. Homophobic parents don't automatically become evil in the minds of queer kids. They often are not inherently hostile people in the moments they aren't hurting you. In fact, many people have positive memories of parents who have been abusive towards them. The same man who choked me with a purse strap when I was 8 bought me a bike for my 16th birthday. The same man who screamed in my face, the same man who hit me, he also told me that he loved me. As a kid, you don't understand that people are not black and white. You think of someone who hurts you as bad, and someone who's kind to you as good. When a parent is both, what is any kid supposed to think? Growing up, I wished I wasn't gay. I wanted to be an "easy" kid to love. When children are harmed by people in their lives, they don't blame the people that hurt them, they blame themselves. I grew up so isolated and alone. I was the only queer person I knew, until my little brother came out as trans, then suddenly I was responsible for protecting the only two queer people I knew. My dad was even worse to my brother when he came out. I spent all of my teen years defending my brother, and my dad hated me for it. As a kid, I internalized that hatred. I didn't want to be gay, because in my head I wouldn't have felt so alone if I wasn't. I didn't think I'd ever make it to the point of going to college. I didn't think I'd ever feel confident enough in myself to pursue my dreams. Growing up in an environment where you feel so ostracized makes you feel like there is something inherently wrong with who you are, and it took me until very recently to shake that belief. I love being a lesbian, it's my favorite thing about myself. I am pursuing my dreams through education, and now that I've had time to figure out who I am, I'm confident in my abilities to achieve my lifelong dreams. My dad and I don't talk anymore, but in all honesty, it's for the best. I am a stronger person for the things I endured, and my resilience is going to help me reach great heights in my career.

I grew up as someone who the Constitution did not serve. There is no guarantee of my social and political equality. It wasn't until 1974 that women were allowed to have their own bank accounts. My mother was 8 years old at the time we were granted that right. My grandmother was 36. 1974 was less than 30 years before I was born, only 18 before my oldest sibling. Today, women are not paid equitably in the workforce. It's not obvious. It's not as simple as Jane being paid 75 cents for the same job John makes a dollar for. The wage gap is insidious, it is a systemic issue that pervades every industry in our country. I am pursuing a male-dominated industry, and I have had to fight every single day to prove my ability to do the work that men were handed on a silver platter. I have had to work ten times as hard as any man in my industry to get where I am today. My capabilities, however, as still doubted and critiqued more often than not. I firmly believe that if I were a man I would be leaps and bounds ahead of where I currently am in my career, and that's the entire problem. Women are not valued, they are not afforded opportunities, they are not given promotions or pay raises or any of the things that men feel entitled to. That is why the wage gap is still such a prevalent issue. The patriarchy keeps its boot on the necks of every woman in the world, then the same men doing it deny that the boot exists. The Constitution does not guarantee or even mention my rights as a gay American. I was 13 when the US gained marriage equality, 13, and now I'm 21 watching government officials tear down the rights of my trans brothers and sisters. I am 21 watching governors ban drag shows and ban kids from socially transitioning. I'm watching them ban discussing that LGBT people even exist. Eight years after the legalization of gay marriage I am watching legislation take the lives of kids who barely survived long enough to access gender-affirming care. My little brother is trans and honest to God, I would have lost him if it weren't for him transitioning. He was so miserable being who he wasn't, so unbelievably miserable. My brother was hospitalized for a suicide attempt as a teenager. My brother has struggled his entire life to love himself in any capacity. Trans-affirming healthcare saved his life, and I am watching the government strip that away from people like him. I'm watching little queer kids lose their will to live, and it is torture. I was that kid, I was a little queer kid with no support, and my brother was too. We made it out, but these kids might not. I feel strongly about the Constitution because it is intangible. It is the basis of our fundamental human rights, and so long as we live in a country run under the premise of true democracy, these rights won't go away. The Constitution doesn't mention my rights. It doesn't mention protections for women. There is no safety guarantee for queer and trans people. We are all unsafe and we will continue to be unsafe until our right to safety and social equity are secured within the Constitution. I am a proud advocate for civil rights. I have done volunteer work, advocacy work, and have organized community aid programs. I believe that civil liberties will be the guiding force of my career.

Math to me is a form of art. I actually have a learning disability called dyscalculia. It is a difference in the brain that makes processing the fundamentals of mathematics incredibly challenging, if not impossible. This disorder is comparable to people with dyslexia's struggle with reading. I have always struggled to understand the concepts behind mathematics, but it doesn't stop me from having a love and admiration for the study. I love how impactful mathematics is in our world. I love that it can be used to program machines, to build apartments, to save lives--I admire the study of mathematics unbelievably so. I look up to people who excel in these concepts and wish sincerely that I had an equal starting point in the understanding of these concepts. Math is what I use to engage in my love for baking. It helps me explore my love of woodworking. I love math, even if it is a challenge for me because math is so fundamental to the very basis of our world. I love math because It's the basis of so many of the fundamental concepts that make up our existence. For instance, statistically, it is unlikely that any of us exist, but we do. In the process of our life's creation, there was an incredibly slim chance for any of us to be the one that made it to the point of conception, and eventually to the point of being born. The chances that our DNA worked out to make us exactly who we presently are was minuscule, but somehow it happened. According to a BBC article, statistically, we only differ genetically from a stranger by less than 0.1%. However, this amazingly small number still provides the opportunity for over 10 million DNA variations. The statistical chance of you being who you are today was so small, but here we all are, alive and unbelievably unique. The odds of you ending up as "you" were essentially zero, no exaggeration, but you ended up the person you are regardless. I think that's one of the most beautiful things to know about our existence--that we beat the reliable laws of statistics. I think knowing the exact math behind how unlikely it was that we ended up here today is incredible. Math is indisputably important to understanding the fundamentals of our world, and that's exactly why I have such an appreciation for it.

My finances have become incredibly important over the last year. In January of this year (2023) I was accepted to my dream university. I unfortunately have no one to support me in my journey of pursuing a better life. I have no one to cosign on my loans, and therefore, I am ineligible to take out the full amount needed to pursue my education. I also have no one in my life who is able to contribute a dime towards my education. My situation puts me at a major disadvantage when it comes to affording my college journey. I was accepted to my dream school, however, and because of that I am incredibly determined to pay my own way through college education. This school will allow me to pursue my lifelong dreams, and that is worth all the time and effort in the world. I currently work three jobs. I am a groundkeeper for an amusement park, I am a content creator for a company, and I have a small business of my own. My dream is actually to be a business owner, but the business I’d like to own is separate from my current side-hustle of making jewelry. My dream is to own my own production company. I was a child actor, and I’ve been in over 15 productions throughout the course of my life. I am also a published author, and my performance work has ended up on the news a handful of times. My work in the entertainment industry has led me to big dreams. I want to found a production company with the people who have been a consistent and invaluable part of my lifelong career, and attending my dream school is a surefire way to make sure I have access to the education necessary to achieve my dreams. In order to afford what it’s going to take to attend my dream university, finances have become an incredibly important part of my daily life. In order to pay my tuition, I will have to come up with a total of 28,000 dollars for this school year. It seems like a lot of money, and it is, it’s going to be incredibly difficult for me to achieve this goal–but I’m determined to do it. (Even though it’s giving me high blood pressure in my early 20’s) Budgeting has become a skill that I’ve quickly picked up over the last year. I have a notebook where I write down the hours that I am scheduled per week at my groundskeeping job. I also write down the assignments I have due (because I am paid per assignment not per hour) for my content creation job, and the orders I have received that week from my small business. I currently have about $2,500 dollars saved this year, and I hope to be able to pick up more hours once the amusement park I work for becomes more popular in the summer. Budgeting can be challenging, but it’s absolutely necessary to achieve financial goals. I grew up in poverty, and in some ways, it gave me an idea of how the process of budgeting works. Growing up with a single mother who barely made ends meet was a very difficult thing, and I don’t think that’s how anyone should be introduced to the concept of finances, but for me it did help me get a head start on my understanding of budgeting. My journey of becoming financially educated is just beginning, but I believe I’ve come a long way and I’m excited to learn more.

'Means to an End' (hand on the keyboard) and 'The Anniversary' (person holding acceptance letter) are two contrasting pieces of expressing the contradicting joy and dread I feel for this next step of my life. 'Means to an End' represents the frustration with the overblown cost of higher education and lack of support for students who are pursuing college independent of their family's assistance. I got into my dream school in January of 2023, after spending three years post-high school perfecting my artistic resume in order to meet the standards of admission. I poured every ounce of effort into getting that admissions letter, and I did. 'The Anniversary' is a self-portrait, wherein I am holding my framed acceptance letter to my dream university. It represents the joy I felt receiving that news and the excitement I feel knowing that things are finally going to get better for me. 'Means to an End' represents the dread of knowing that, in all honesty, I can not afford this amazing opportunity. I, unfortunately, have no one to support me in my journey of pursuing a better life. I have no one to cosign on my loans, and therefore, I am ineligible to take out the full amount needed to pursue my education. I work three jobs at the moment, but my efforts are far from enough. I have spent every moment of the last several months applying to jobs, grants, and scholarships and it seems I am bleeding myself dry for no tangible reward. This piece represents the countless hours I have spent typing in front of my computer screen, praying that this all is the 'means to an end', but knowing that I might not ever be that lucky.

I grew up as someone who the Constitution did not serve. There is no guarantee of my social and political equality. It wasn't until 1974 that women were allowed to have their own bank accounts. My mother was 8 years old at the time we were granted that right. My grandmother was 36. 1974 was less than 30 years before I was born, only 18 before my oldest sibling. Today, women are not paid equitably in the workforce. It's not obvious. It's not as simple as Jane being paid 75 cents for the same job John makes a dollar for. The wage gap is insidious, it is a systemic issue that pervades every industry in our country. I am pursuing a male-dominated industry, and I have had to fight every single day to prove my ability to do the work that men were handed on a silver platter. I have had to work ten times as hard as any man in my industry to get where I am today. My capabilities, however, as still doubted and critiqued more often than not. I firmly believe that if I were a man I would be leaps and bounds ahead of where I currently am in my career, and that's the entire problem. Women are not valued, they are not afforded opportunities, they are not given promotions or pay raises or any of the things that men feel entitled to. That is why the wage gap is still such a prevalent issue. The patriarchy keeps its boot on the necks of every woman in the world, then the same men doing it deny that the boot exists. The Constitution does not guarantee or even mention my rights as a gay American. I was 13 when the US gained marriage equality, 13, and now I'm 21 watching government officials tear down the rights of my trans brothers and sisters. I am 21 watching governors ban drag shows and ban kids from socially transitioning. I'm watching them ban discussing that LGBT people even exist. Eight years after the legalization of gay marriage I am watching legislation take the lives of kids who barely survived long enough to access gender-affirming care. My little brother is trans and honest to God, I would have lost him if it weren't for him transitioning. He was so miserable being who he wasn't, so unbelievably miserable. My brother was hospitalized for a suicide attempt as a teenager. My brother has struggled his entire life to love himself in any capacity. Trans-affirming healthcare saved his life, and I am watching the government strip that away from people like him. I'm watching little queer kids lose their will to live, and it is torture. I was that kid, I was a little queer kid with no support, and my brother was too. We made it out, but these kids might not. I feel strongly about the Constitution because it is intangible. It is the basis of our fundamental human rights, and so long as we live in a country run under the premise of true democracy, these rights won't go away. The Constitution doesn't mention my rights. It doesn't mention protections for women. There is no safety guarantee for queer and trans people. We are all unsafe and we will continue to be unsafe until our right to safety and social equity are secured within the Constitution. I am a proud advocate for civil rights. I have done volunteer work, advocacy work, and have organized community aid programs. I believe that civil liberties will be the guiding force of my career.

I fell in love with rock climbing for the first time when I was around 11 years old. My mom took me and my brother to our local Hangar-18 rock climbing center in the summer, because she found a Groupon and thought it might be fun for us to explore something like this. I was born with a condition commonly known as ADHD. It stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, and there are a lot of misconceptions about how it works. In essence, dopamine is the chemical that provides most people's brains with the means for motivation, concentration, and memory retention. In ADHD, this chemical is either not produced as much as it should be or it is metabolized by the brain too quickly. This causes things like frequent short-term memory loss, executive dysfunction, attention difficulties, coordination problems, and hyperactive tendencies. In ADHD, the phenomenon of experiencing understimulation (commonly known as boredom) can be almost physically painful, and therefore, people with ADHD often make efforts to mitigate this feeling. As a kid, I was constantly told to sit down, shut up, and stay still. I was shamed by educators for the ways I tried to cope with my disorder, and as a result, I had a lot of pent-up energy and emotions that I didn't know how to express. I was constantly put down and made to feel stupid by the teachers and adults in my life who saw me as nothing more than a misbehaving child. When I first discovered rock climbing, it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Rock climbing gave me the resources to let out all the energy and creativity I was constantly forced to suppress. I loved the thrill of hanging upside-down off the curve of a bouldering wall. I felt alive when I reached the top. I, for the first time in my life, felt like who I was wasn't a hindrance to my abilities. I was good at rock climbing, and it made me feel so much better about myself. I gained confidence in myself and my abilities when I learned to climb, and it still has a massive impact on my life today. I recently was accepted to my dream university, and I'm so unbelievably excited for the opportunity to pursue my lifelong goals through education. I, however, am doing this all on my own. I have no one to cosign on my loans, and therefore, I am ineligible to take out the full amount needed to pursue my education. I work three jobs at the moment, but my efforts are far from enough. Your generous donation could help me take a step forward towards improving my life for the better. Your help could be the difference between me being able to pursue this amazing opportunity, and having to abandon my chance at achieving my dreams. I greatly appreciate your consideration, and I hope that you will choose to be a part of my educational journey.

I sat on the stairwell of my tiny apartment, staring blankly at the bottom step. It was early, earlier than I was usually awake, I had a scheduled telephone call with my psychiatrist. We talked about how I can’t stay awake, how my childhood cat died, how I get sadder in the summer because I’m trapped inside by my oversensitivity to heat and everyone is out enjoying themselves but me. I never quite know what to say to a psychiatrist. I have too much to say, and they have too many patients to get through for me to ever say enough to quantify "the whole picture." He says “You indicated on the questionnaire that you’ve been thinking about death. Tell me about that,” and I immediately counter with a reflexive “I’m not going to do anything." I don't go into detail. I merely draw the shape of it all, the outline of every thought that plagues me late at night. I tell him I’m ‘worried it won’t work out', that I ‘won’t earn enough to afford my tuition.’ I'm scared that ‘I’ll have to give up everything I fought for.’ I sleep on a couch in the living room and have nowhere else to go, my autism makes me feel inhuman, and I loathe that I got into my dream school because I work three jobs and still can't afford to go--but I don't say any of that. He says “You’ve been feeling hopeless?” I don’t bother to tell him that ‘hopeless’ isn’t close to what it is. "It’s not hopeless. It’s cornered, trapped. It's all-consuming dread," I want to say, but I don't. People don’t know what that means when you say you feel 'cornered', so I say “Hopeless, yeah..” and I stare at the carpet. We end the call, and I sink into the abyss of lies of omission. My reasons for ending up in the ER last March were not confined to the isolation of lesbian culture, the struggles of poverty, or the pain of living with a stigmatized psychiatric disorder. It was the weight of it all, the weight of the fact that I'll never say enough to say it all. The hospital psychiatrist insisted that I was telling her a 'story' instead of a 'reason' when she asked why I wanted to die, but there wasn't a reason, there was only a very long story. It has been over a year since that day. I didn't think I'd make it this far, but my making it to April of 2023 didn't happen "by chance." I fought every day to improve my life. I applied to over two dozen university programs in the span of the last year because I decided that this was finally the time I was going to make the jump into higher education in order to pursue my lifelong dreams. I have applied to over 231 scholarships, 24 universities, and attended 4 live auditions for my program of choice. In January of this year, I learned I had been accepted to my dream school. Despite my efforts, I am currently not able to pursue this amazing opportunity. I have over 30k in annual tuition to cover, after federal aid and federal loans. I have no co-signer, and no private loan companies willing to help me without one. I am not able to take out the amount in loans necessary to afford my education. I work three jobs, but it's still not going to be enough. Your generous scholarship program could help me get one step closer to pursuing my dreams.

I sat on the stairwell of my tiny apartment, staring blankly at the bottom step. It was early, earlier than I was usually awake, I had a scheduled telephone call with my psychiatrist. We talked about how I can’t stay awake, how my childhood cat died, how I get sadder in the summer because I’m trapped inside by my oversensitivity to heat and everyone is out enjoying themselves but me. I never quite know what to say to a psychiatrist. I have too much to say, and they have too many patients to get through for me to ever say enough to quantify "the whole picture." He says “You indicated on the questionnaire that you’ve been thinking about death. Tell me about that,” and I immediately counter with a reflexive “I’m not going to do anything." I don't go into detail. I merely draw the shape of it all, the outline of every thought that plagues me late at night. I tell him I’m ‘worried it won’t work out', that I ‘won’t earn enough to afford my tuition.’ I'm scared that ‘I’ll have to give up everything I fought for.’ I sleep on a couch in the living room and have nowhere else to go, my autism makes me feel inhuman, and I loathe that I got into my dream school because I work three jobs and still can't afford to go--but I don't say any of that. He says “You’ve been feeling hopeless?” I don’t bother to tell him that ‘hopeless’ isn’t close to what it is. "It’s not hopeless. It’s cornered, trapped. It's all-consuming dread," I want to say, but I don't. People don’t know what that means when you say you feel 'cornered', so I say “Hopeless, yeah..” and I stare at the carpet. We end the call, and I sink into the abyss of lies of omission. My reasons for ending up in the ER last March were not confined to the isolation of lesbian culture, the struggles of poverty, or the pain of living with a stigmatized psychiatric disorder. It was the weight of it all, the weight of the fact that I'll never say enough to say it all. The hospital psychiatrist insisted that I was telling her a 'story' instead of a 'reason' when she asked why I wanted to die, but there wasn't a reason, there was only a very long story. People don't want to talk about the ugly and complicated parts of it all. A lot of people's experiences with 'mental health' are more complicated than the conversations we have about it want to admit. Last March, I didn't know there was anything left for me. I didn't know that DBT therapy was an option, I didn't know they made medication that would alleviate the crippling mood swings I'd learned to live with. When traditional CBT and SSRIs didn't work, the system blamed me for not 'trying hard enough', but it wasn't my fault. I believe so adamantly in the importance of mental health education because it's so easy to feel like you are a lost cause. It's so easy to feel like there are no resources that will help you when the first-line choices fail. Starting conversations around mental health saves lives. Informing people about the full extent of treatment options available and destigmatizing the conversation around seeking those treatments will be the difference between life and death for countless individuals. I put my efforts into educating and advocating for people who struggle with mental health issues because I never want anyone to feel how I have had to.

For as long as I can remember, the arts have been the love of my life. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. I had an incredibly difficult childhood that left me with severe, and permanent psychological illnesses. I can't remember my life before mental illness, and now I will never know what it's like to experience the world as someone who hasn't survived these debilitating conditions. I made it to the age of 18 by the skin of my teeth. Above all else, the thing that helped me get to that point was the arts. I live and breathe art. It's all I've ever known, and frankly, it's all I ever want to know. I was in over 15 productions by the time I graduated high school. In the last three years, I have been involved in live, professional performance pieces that have been showcased on KTLA5, Fox11, and SoCal News stations. I have published works of writing, including scripts, poetry entries, and an upcoming novel. I have also written, directed, and acted in various short films in the last year. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Even though its not overtly present, if you spend enough time in these industries you will be made aware that these biases still exist. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture, and I think that has to be one of the most disingenuous ways to create art. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through entertainment.

I didn't have the privilege to go to college after high school. I was a 2020 graduate, and I left high school into what seemed like the end of the world. I lost a lot of people in the pandemic, and I myself suffered permanent effects as a result of Covid-19. I thought the end of high school was going to be my way out for me, but it was only the beginning. I have lived a life of constant chaos for as long as I can remember. In a lot of ways, this was negatively impactful for me, especially to my psychological wellbeing. However, I also believe that my experiences made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age, because I was born with neurological disabilities. I was mistreated in many ways as a child because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I struggled a lot as a kid emotionally, but I had an outlet that helped me more than anything else in the world. The thing that got me through my difficult upbringing was my exposure to the performing arts. To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Even though its not overtly present, if you spend enough time in these industries you will be made aware that these biases still exist. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture, and I think that has to be one of the most disingenuous ways to create art. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through entertainment.

I have lived many lives in the last 21 years. It might seem silly. A lot of young people say that, and it seems laughable. What life experience could you possibly have by 21, right? My upbringing, however, was vastly different from that of my peers. I grew up confronting the reality of ableism and discrimination from an early age because I was born with psychological and neurological disabilities. I was mistreated and abused in many ways as a child because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I spent my entire childhood looking out for my younger brother and trying to support our mother the best I could. My mother's struggle to make ends meet as a single parent left my brother and me without much, if any, support growing up. This resulted in many adverse experiences behind the scenes of what my mother was aware of. For instance, as a preteen, I, unfortunately, became a survivor of sexual assault. I had no one in my life who had the means to listen, and so I told no one. I didn't get to have a normal childhood like my peers. I spent my entire upbringing fighting to survive. I made it to 18 by the skin of my teeth. My experiences have made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Underprivileged communities such as people living in poverty, disabled people, or people of color are often subtly pushed away from these artistic spaces due to their long standing histories. I believe that all communities deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through the media we consume every day. People underestimate the weight of art in our society but truthfully, it guides the collective opinion of so many important issues, because art–ultimately–is a bid for human connection and empathy. Art is a way to get through to people’s beliefs and values, and to help them be better, happier people.

I sat there in my cordless sweatpants and high school theater t-shirt, strapped to a stretcher, in a blank white room with a crowd of people staring at me like I was a science fair project. They didn’t talk to me, didn’t even bother to greet me. They scribbled down information on their clipboards and chatted with the young paramedic who had let me pick the music for the ambulance ride over. I stared at the clock on the wall, trying to discern what time it was. I had spent the last eight hours in an ER hallway bed. The hospital psychiatrist berated me with invasive questions about what ‘drove me to do’ what I had done. She kept telling me that I was ‘telling her a story instead of a reason,’ but there was no singular reason. I had been at my wits end for a very long time. I prayed that day, for the first time in a long time. I have always had a complicated relationship to faith, but this day was different. I truly believe that, for the first time in my life, my prayers were answered. After the worst day of my life, everything changed. I I got back into volunteering, and I reconnected with my lifelong love of the arts. In January, I was accepted to my dream university, and in that moment I truly believed that everything I had ever endured was worth something. My experiences have made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Even though its not overtly present, if you spend enough time in these industries you will be made aware that these biases still exist. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture, and I think that has to be one of the most disingenuous ways to create art. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through entertainment.

My psychiatrist and I chatted over the phone this morning. We talked about how I can’t stay awake, how my childhood cat died, how I get sadder in the summer because I’m trapped inside by my oversensitivity to heat and everyone is out enjoying themselves but me. Then he mentioned the questionnaire they make you fill out before psych appointments. There’s a question in there, it says “in the last two weeks how often have you had thoughts that you would be better off dead, or thoughts of hurting yourself” and the options are always the same. “Never,” “Some of the days,” “More than half the days,” “Nearly every day.” It’s never “never" for me, but I pick and choose what option it is based on how much I want to talk about the fact that the answer is usually the last option. Today I wanted to talk about it. He says “You indicated you’ve been thinking about death. Tell me about that,” and I immediately counter with a reflexive “I’m not going to do anything.” I'm not, I don’t have time to be committed again. I tell him I’m ‘worried it won’t work out', that I ‘won’t earn enough to afford my tuition.’ Worried that ‘I’ll have to give up everything I fought for.’ I don’t mention the fact that this future plan ‘working out’ is the only way I can definitively assure myself I won’t resort to dire means to escape the fact that I sleep on a couch in a living room and want to smash my skull against the wall when I can't get a moment's peace. He says “You’ve been feeling hopeless?” I don’t bother to tell him that ‘hopeless’ isn’t close to what it is. "It’s not hopeless. It’s cornered. I feel cornered," I want to say, but I don't. People don’t know what that means when you say you feel 'cornered', so I say “Hopeless, yeah..” and I stare at the carpet. We end the call, and I sink into the abyss of lies I tell because I know the truth about the American healthcare system. I've been through it so many times I know the ins and outs of everything. I ended up in the ER last March. I overdosed. The hospital psychiatrist insisted that I was telling her a 'story' instead of a 'reason' when she asked why I wanted to die, but there wasn't a reason, there was only a very long story. I am not an easy patient. People see my chart and they panic over labels that do nothing but describe the brand of pain I've grown to live with. I'm afraid everyone will leave me, I'm afraid I don't exist when I'm alone, I'm afraid that the hole in my chest will eat me alive one day. I don't feel real, I don't want to. I'd like to stay disconnected until the world is normal again, but the 'normal world' hasn't existed in three years. I've spent every day distracting myself so I'd make it to the next. March was a breaking point. I realized something that day. The world will keep moving, and I will stay stuck in this hole if I don't move with it. No one is coming to dig me out, as much as it's all I ever wanted. I decided that day that I was going back to school. In January I got into my dream university. Still, my mental illness robs me of the excitement every day, because all I do is worry about 'what happens' when I can't afford tuition.

This morning (04/07/23), at 8:30am, I had a telephone appointment with my psychiatrist. We talked about how I can’t stay awake, how my childhood cat died, how I get sadder in the summer because I’m trapped inside by my oversensitivity to heat and everyone is out enjoying themselves but me. Then he mentioned the questionnaire they make you fill out before psych appointments. There’s a question in there, it says “in the last two weeks how often have you had thoughts that you would be better off dead, or thoughts of hurting yourself” and the options are always the same. “Never,” “Some of the days,” “More than half the days,” “Nearly every day.” It’s never “never" for me, but I pick and choose what option it is based on how much I want to talk about the fact that the answer is usually the last option. Today I wanted to talk about it. He says “You indicated you’ve been thinking about death. Tell me about that,” and I immediately counter with a reflexive “I’m not going to do anything.” I'm not, I don’t have time to be committed again. I tell him I’m ‘worried it won’t work out', that I ‘won’t earn enough to afford my tuition.’ Worried that ‘I’ll have to give up everything I fought for.’ I don’t mention the fact that this future plan ‘working out’ is the only way I can definitively assure myself I won’t resort to dire means to escape the fact that I sleep on a couch in a living room and want to smash my skull against the wall when I can't get a moment's peace. He says “You’ve been feeling hopeless?” I don’t bother to tell him that ‘hopeless’ isn’t close to what it is. "It’s not hopeless. It’s cornered. I feel cornered," I want to say, but I don't. People don’t know what that means when you say you feel 'cornered', so I say “Hopeless, yeah..” and I stare at the carpet. We end the call, and I sink into the abyss of lies I tell because I know the truth about the American healthcare system. I've been through it so many times I know the ins and outs of everything. I know once they know I'm gay they'll blame all my psychological issues on the inherent trauma that is growing up queer in an anti-queer society. People comprehend the outline of that experience, they've heard a story or two that they understand the basic shape of. My reasons for ending up in the ER last March were not confined to the isolation of lesbian culture, but the hospital psychiatrist still adamantly insisted that I 'did this because I'm ashamed to be gay.' She insisted that I was telling her a 'story' instead of a 'reason' when she asked why I wanted to die, but there wasn't a reason, there was only a very long story. I am not an easy patient. People see my chart and they panic over labels that do nothing but describe the brand of pain I've grown to live with. I'm afraid everyone will leave me, I'm afraid I don't exist when I'm alone, I'm afraid that the hole in my chest will eat me alive one day. I am not a part of the conversation when it comes to "mental health." I'd like to be, but people don't want to talk about the ugly and complicated parts of it all. Depression and anxiety are straightforward concepts, my experiences are not. I could probably keep typing forever, I'd never run out of words.

In Spring of 2022 I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. In truth I had known for quite some time. You spend enough time feeling misery beyond the scope of any antidepressant and inevitably you start to do some research--but the formal diagnosis made everything feel real and unchangeable. I felt so entirely alone. I was the only one I'd ever known or even heard of with this disorder. Every google search and page flip and email to new therapists only ended in me learning more about the grossly misguided stigma surrounding a disorder I was traumatized into having. About a month after being diagnosed I joined an online support group for people with my disorder. In my prior research, I found that a majority of people diagnosed with BPD have struggled with addictions. I had never truly understood why people turned to substances. My father had a problem with alcohol, and he was incredibly abusive, so I attributed alcohol to causation. I thought that I was somehow exempt from the risk if I just didn't follow in his footsteps. I didn't drink, only smoked (weed) when I was very stressed, and all my mind-altering substances were prescribed by a psychiatrist. It's not that I ever looked down on people with addiction, I just inherently believed it could never be me. When I joined this group, however, I started reading anecdotes and stories from other people with BPD about their struggles with addiction. There was this one member, he shared a name with my father, Steven. He was a middle-aged member and had been diagnosed for many decades. When I first joined all I felt was sheer panic. I was alone, my family didn't understand nor even want to, I had just lost my home and everything I'd ever owned. Steven replied to every egregiously-lengthed monologue on the post-wall about how scared and alone I was in those first few months. He checked in on me, sent me resources, and gave me valuable advice. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to lose myself in this disorder. One day, however, Steven posted about relapsing. He was years sober, several years, and this was not a simple slip-up. He shared that one of his closest friends had just died and that he didn't know how else to cope. Steven talked about how ashamed he was, and it made me so upset to know that he couldn't manage to accept that this wasn't any indicator of his morality. He talked about how he first got addicted, how it was all just a way to cope. There were no mood stabilizers, no antidepressants, no antipsychotics--none that he had access to at least. All he had to numb the pain of this disorder, a disorder regarded as the most painful psychiatric condition to live with, was drugs. He wouldn't have survived this disorder on his own, many people don't. Steven was only ever doing what it took to survive, and the shame he felt for that was unearned. From that day on, I decided to learn more about people struggling with addiction. I learned about harm-reduction groups, safe needle exchange programs, what narcan was and how to use it. I learned what to do in an overdose. I decided I would always have narcan on me, and that I was going to be very public about the fact that I would help other people get access to that and other risk-reducing supplies, no questions asked. People with addictions are human, and I want to spend my time making sure they get to tomorrow.

If I could have everyone in the world read just one book it would be '1984' by George Orwell. The dystopian world that these characters live in is a metaphor for late-stage capitalism, as seen by the exaggerated separation of economic classes within the novel. The characters live in fear of "big brother," which is a euphemism for the government's hyper-surveillance over the working class. With companies selling our information left and right and hiding the scale of their interconnected monopolies, we are reaching a point where we too should be afraid of "Big Brother." This book is eerily similar to our current post-pandemic world, especially for the working class, and I believe that if more people read this book we could start seeing our society for what it is. Over half of Americans are paid too little to survive, they are worked to the bone, and they don't have any money to do things that bring them a sense of joy. The working class is being exponentially exploited while the 1% gets richer and richer off the labor of people they don't care about the well-being of. The pandemic taught us that the government cares more about money than they do human life, and that issue is reflected in a very insightful way in George Orwell's '1984.' To describe the state of modern capitalism in this country as "Orwellian" would be an understatement, and I wish more people understood exactly what that phrase meant. George Orwell's book could provide a much-needed lesson to many Americans in the modern day.

My health is a top priority while I am attending college. I didn't have the opportunity to start college until a few years after I had graduated high school, because I was a 2020 high school graduate whose life was derailed by the start of the pandemic. I did everything I could to avoid becoming ill, but despite my efforts, a member of my household spread the covid-19 virus to me. I figured that even If I got sick I would be fine. I was a healthy 18-year-old girl with no major risk factors. Then I caught Covid, and I spent two weeks wondering if I would die. I regularly woke up to my apple watch alerting me that my heart rate had reached 170+ bpm in the middle of the night. I could hardly breathe. I was far too weak to get out of bed and as a result I didn't eat for many days at a time. I had brain fog so extreme that at one point I could not remember my own middle name. I thought that my symptoms would clear up in a few weeks, but a year later I was still struggling. I still had high blood pressure, terrible brain fog, limited lung capacity, and terrible dizziness on a regular basis. I had intended to go to college immediately after high school, but the effects of my declining health took such a toll on me both physically and mentally that I was unable to manage the responsibility of keeping up with classes on top of it all. I suffered psychologically a lot in the following year. I didn't know who I was anymore, and I was so scared. I was a runner for a long time before this all happened. I was on the cross-country and track teams in high school. I was also involved in performance art, and I absolutely loved to perform action-heavy stunt scenes. I love running, I love weight lifting, I love to exercise and I always have. It gives me more energy, helps with my mental health problems, and overall makes me feel so much better. When I got sick, however, I lost my athletic abilities almost entirely. I couldn't run because my lung capacity was so diminished. I couldn't lift weights because my body was too weak, and the chronic dizziness made activities like this dangerous for me. I was really upset about this for a long time, and it took me a great amount of effort to process the change in my physical health. About a year ago, however, I decided to try and combat these issues. I started off slow by going for daily 15-minute walks. Then eventually I was going on 30-minute walks. Then 45 minute walks with ankle and wrist weights. Then finally, after months of slowly building up, I started running in short bursts of time and walking in between. Before I knew it, I was going to the gym and lifting weights again. I felt so much better about myself, my energy levels improved, and my mental well-being took a turn for the better. I felt so much better that I decided to take a leap of faith and finally continue my plans for higher education. My goals may have had a few roadblocks, but now I know more than ever how much I value higher education and maintaining my health. My well-being has become a top priority for me and I absolutely plan to carry this into my college journey. I couldn't be more excited about my future!

My personal wellness is a top priority while I am attending college. I didn't have the opportunity to start college until a few years after I had graduated high school, because I was a 2020 high school graduate whose life was derailed by the start of the pandemic. I did everything I could to avoid becoming ill, but despite my efforts, a member of my household spread the covid-19 virus to me. I figured that even If I got sick I would be fine. I was a healthy 18-year-old girl with no major risk factors. Then I caught Covid, and I spent two weeks wondering if I would die. I regularly woke up to my apple watch alerting me that my heart rate had reached 170+ bpm in the middle of the night. I could hardly breathe. I was far too weak to get out of bed and as a result I didn't eat for many days at a time. I had brain fog so extreme that at one point I could not remember my own middle name. I thought that my symptoms would clear up in a few weeks, but a year later I was still struggling. I still had high blood pressure, terrible brain fog, limited lung capacity, and terrible dizziness on a regular basis. I had intended to go to college immediately after high school, but the effects of my declining health took such a toll on me both physically and mentally that I was unable to manage the responsibility of keeping up with classes on top of it all. I suffered psychologically a lot in the following year. I didn't know who I was anymore, and I was so scared. I was a runner for a long time before this all happened. I was on the cross-country and track teams in high school. I was also involved in performance art, and I absolutely loved to perform action-heavy stunt scenes. I love running, I love weight lifting, I love to exercise and I always have. It gives me more energy, helps with my mental health problems, and overall makes me feel so much better. When I got sick, however, I lost my athletic abilities almost entirely. I couldn't run because my lung capacity was so diminished. I couldn't lift weights because my body was too weak, and the chronic dizziness made activities like this dangerous for me. I was really upset about this for a long time, and it took me a great amount of effort to process the change in my physical health. About a year ago, however, I decided to try and combat these issues. I started off slow by going for daily 15-minute walks. Then eventually I was going on 30-minute walks. Then 45 minute walks with ankle and wrist weights. Then finally, after months of slowly building up, I started running in short bursts of time and walking in between. Before I knew it, I was going to the gym and lifting weights again. I felt so much better about myself, my energy levels improved, and my mental well-being took a turn for the better. I felt so much better that I decided to take a leap of faith and finally continue my plans for higher education. My goals may have had a few roadblocks, but now I know more than ever how much I value higher education and maintaining my health. My well-being has become a top priority for me and I absolutely plan to carry this into my college journey. I couldn't be more excited about my future!

I am earning my BFA at a performing arts college in Hollywood, CA--but what brought me to this point is xomplicated. I have Autism Spectrum Disorder and ADHD. As a result of this, I grew up confronting the reality that this country’s institutions do not care about me. I was abused severely as a child, for my entire upbringing, but no one ever offered help. I was struggling psychologically in very serious ways. I developed anxiety as a child, depression as a teen, Borderline Personality Disorder by the age of 18, and PTSD by the time I was 20 years old. People didn't want to see that though. They called me "disruptive," "emotional," "dramatic." All while they looked the other way at the truth. I met my saving grace at the age of nine, when I performed in my first on-stage production. It might seem silly, but that was the moment that changed my life forever. I learned that the arts were a medium for me to express the pain and injustice I'd endured. I am a firm believer that the media we consume shapes the collective understanding of marginalized groups. I believe that directors, painters, musicians--they all hold the reins. I wanted to do that. I wanted to be capable of changing the collective opinion. I wanted to make art that helped people understand the experience of people like me. Disabled people, mentally ill people, queer people--they don't get to see themselves accurately represented in the very forms of media that shape the world's view of their existence. In 2022 I decided to take a leap of faith by applying to my dream school in Hollywood, CA. Little did I know that two weeks after my audition in December, I would be awarded an acceptance letter. It was a pipe dream, I never thought it would happen, but here I was. I was overcome with a confusing mix of joy and anxiety. This was finally happening, I did it--but how would I do it from here? I grew up barely floating above the poverty line. I grew up without an extended family. I had no money, no one to co-sign on a student loan, and no companies willing to help me without one. I felt like maybe this wouldn't work out. Maybe after all my hard work, after everything that led to this achievement, maybe I'd have to decline my admissions offer. I still worry about it often, but now I know there's a plan in place. I started working 40 hours a week to save up before school started, I donate plasma for extra funds, and I have a second job as a brand ambassador that's work is done online. I will still need to work part-time during the school year to afford my tuition. Without a cosigner or an established credit score, private loans are not an option that I have. It's very difficult, as a disabled person, to maintain work. It makes this endeavor exhausting, and emotionally draining. Nevertheless, I wake up every day and work my shifts, because I'm going to achieve my dreams if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to make art that changes the collective opinion of marginalized groups. I'm going to make sure that the world sees stories of disabled people, women, queer people, people of color, the mentally ill, and anyone else who has been wronged by oppression and stigmatization. I was born with a system to fight, and fury in my bones. It's what I was meant to do.

Hello, My name is Chloe, and the arts are the most important thing in the world to me. I have Autism Spectrum Disorder and ADHD. As a result of this, I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age. I was abused in many ways as a child because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I found my emotional outlet at the age of nine when I was first introduced to the arts. It might seem silly, but that was the moment that changed my life forever. I learned that the arts were a medium for me to express the pain and injustice I'd endured. At that moment, I knew I wanted other people to experience the euphoria and catharsis that art had given to me. I am pursuing the arts professionally now at my dream university. I work three jobs to be able to support my tuition because I have no financial help from anyone in my life. My work alone, however, will not be enough to allow me to access the opportunity of attending my dream school. I am so far from my goal, and quite honestly the endeavor seems hopeless, but I fight every single day for the chance to pursue this amazing opportunity. This generous scholarship could help me achieve my lifelong dreams and share the joy of art with the world. Art, for me, has been the outlet that got be through so many difficult life experiences. I wouldn't have made it to the other side of my childhood without the arts to guide me through. My involvement in this community has been so unbelievably meaningful to me. My fellow artists have been my biggest supporters in achieving my lifelong dreams. I am so grateful for the inspiration and knowledge I have gained from every single artist I have been blessed enough to know. I know I was made for this industry and I am doing everything I can to pursue it. I want to help other people experience the true meaning of catharsis and self-expression through art. I want to change people's minds about important issues and stir up new discussions amongst people who see my art. I hope you will decide to be a part of this journey and support me in my lifelong dreams.

My dream is to start my own production company. I have loved the performing and cinematic arts since I was a very small child. I found my love for the art of telling stories through my very challenging upbringing. I was born with a neurologic disability and was brought up in an abusive household. My family has struggled with money for as long as I can remember, and that fact is a large reason my mother didn't leave my abusive father until I was a teenager, when he became an imminent threat to her life. I grew up being the only gay person I had ever met, and overall, I felt incredibly alone. I didn't have a lot of support, but I did have the theater community. I used the arts to cope with my childhood, and I want other people in similar situations to be able to do the same. I want to make content that helps people see themselves represented in a way I never really got to as a queer, disabled woman. For these reasons, I've decided to pursue higher education at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy (AMDA) in Hollywood, CA. I am developing my skillset so that someday I can turn my childhood dreams into a reality. Unfortunately, the cost of quality education is far outside of my means and I am fighting every day to afford my educational costs. I am doing this all on my own. I have no financial support from family, friends, or anyone. I have no co-signer on my loans, so I am unable to take out the full amount in federal or private student loans. My only option is to work as many hours at as many jobs as I can physically withstand until I am able to cover nearly 40 thousand dollars out of pocket. I am working three jobs at the moment. My efforts, however, are still not enough. I am not guaranteed hours, and I can not find work that will offer me more than the minimum wage. I am working as hard as I possibly can between scholarship applications, work, my business, and my unfortunately necessary frequent doctor's appointments. It is exhausting work, however, I am willing to do whatever it takes to get the kind of quality education that will help me thrive in my career. I want to make media that will help others like myself. I have dreamed of working in film production since I was a little kid and I owe it to childhood me to do whatever it takes to make my dreams a reality. I was born to achieve big things, and I truly do believe that. I want to start a disabled-owned, queer-founded, woman-led production company because all marginalized people deserve to see themselves in media and I believe I'm the one who's going to make that happen.

Perseverance has been the guiding force of my life for a very long time. I was born with disabilities, into a household of abuse, with no source of support. I grew up with Autism, ADHD, and dyscalculia. When my parents' divorced, I was placed in a summer program for students struggling academically. At this program I was sexually assaulted by another student, and I did not have the words to express what had happened to me. I was just a kid, who struggled immensely with a social disorder, and I didn't understand I even should have told someone, let alone how to do it. I developed debilitating anxiety and terrible panic attacks shortly after, and this continued throughout high school. Due to the abuse I faced at the hands of my father, I experienced many incidents of psychological trauma as a young child. I have vivid memories of fearing for my life in moments when his anger took ahold of him. I am not an oldest child, I have two older siblings who are about a decade older than me and my younger brother. Despite this, they made no effort to protect my brother and I from the abuse and mistreatment we were enduring. In fact, many times they made a point to deny its existence. I developed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) symptoms at the end of high school. BPD is a serious psychological illness characterized by suicidal ideation, self-harm, abnormal mood swings, chronic feelings of 'emptiness', a lack of identity, and a pathological fear of abandonment. I did not have access to treatment, and my condition was absolutely debilitating by the time I graduated. So much so that I could not manage the workload of college, and I had to delay my plans for continued education. I moved in with my abusive dad because it was the only place I could stay, but it was a mid-pandemic lockdown at the time and his anger only grew with every moment we were stuck together. He would scream, throw things, even threaten me. At this point I'd become numb to it. I was so psychologically unwell that I lacked adequate energy to care about his actions. It was a stupid decision to brush them off, because in 2022 he threatened my family and my life. I was institutionalized for a suicide attempt mere days later. I spent many days in the hospital, but when I got back out, my perspective took a sudden shift. The things that had just happened didn't matter. I had things to do, and they were much more urgent than processing the weight of my situation. In my post-incident haze, I found a job, a place to stay, and mental healthcare that was actually beneficial to me. Gradually, over the course of months, my life finally started to take a turn for the better. By the time it was June, I had made the decision that now was as good of a time as any to take the leap of faith I'd been waiting to. I applied for my dream college, spent months preparing my audition pieces, and in a shocking turn of events I received an offer of admission. After everything, after possibly the worst year of my life, things were taking a turn for the better. I was finally going to pursue my dreams. This accomplishment didn't come from nowhere, It was the result of months of hard work, and years of perseverance to make it to this point. I am going to accomplish my dreams because I fought this hard to make it here.

I have autism spectrum disorder, and as a result, I spent my entire childhood feeling disconnected from my peers. I felt as though there was some fundamental part of me that was broken, and everyone could see it except me. I struggled with severe social deficits. There were many instances in which it was made abundantly clear to me that I was not at all “normal.” I hated myself to the point of obsession. I clung on to anything that was within my control. I hardly ate, and I developed severe facial dysmorphia that resulted once in me attempting to slice the blackheads off my nose with an exacto-knife. I spent my entire childhood loathing everything about myself. Aside from my internal struggles, I was a childhood victim of abuse and many other traumatic incidents. My mom did not leave my physically and verbally abusive father until I was entering my teens, and it caused me serious psychological harm. I didn’t recognize what was happening as abuse. I was raised in a burning house, so to speak. I had never known anything else, so I thought everyone’s home was on fire. No one ever told me that abuse wasn’t normal. The same year that my parents’ divorced, my mom found a new partner. I struggled to cope with the division of what I had formerly considered my family. All my mom’s attention was focused on her new partner, and I resented him, because I felt completely alone. During this period, I was sent to a summer program. At this program I was sexually assaulted by another student. I told no one. I didn’t have the words to tell anyone. I didn’t understand the concept of sex, let alone sexual assault. I knew I was upset, and that my mother hadn’t listened all the other times I’d been upset, so instead I was angry I had no one to tell. I developed debilitating anxiety and frequent panic attacks shortly after. This lasted throughout high school and carried on into my adult life. I could barely get through entire class periods without slipping into panic attacks. I had them so severely I would vomit. I didn’t know what to do, and neither did anyone else. At some point, I warmed up to my step-dad. I didn’t know how to express this, because my mother had made clear countless times just how angry she was that I disliked him initially. Despite this, he was the closest thing to a father figure I’ve ever had. He cared about my interests, he wanted to see my theater performances, he was a good parent. Around the same time I finally felt comfortable expressing my feelings towards him, we lost him. He died on the couch, in front of me, the morning of my spring play production he’d intended to come watch. I was devastated, but I put on a brave face, and I grieved in silence. I had no support. It was all I could do. Not even a year afterwards, I lost one of my closest friends to suicide. His name was Zach, I knew him for over a decade. No one saw it coming. He never talked about struggling mentally, never joked about it. I searched for signs that I could have caught, ways I could have prevented this, but there were none. That was the worst part. I felt like someone had carved a hole in my chest, and that feeling lasted for years to come. Eventually that ‘hole in my chest’ would be part of what earned me the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. In my final high school years, I struggled immensely with emerging BPD symptoms. I struggled with self destructive tendencies, I had awful mood swings, I was mortified that everyone would leave me, and I didn’t have a sense of identity. I wanted to die. I wanted to die and I was angry that I knew how much it hurt to lose someone the way I wanted to go out. I hated that the guilt trumped my desire for a way out. When the pandemic hit I was so depressed it was debilitating. I had to halt my dreams of college, because I couldn’t even dream of getting out of bed. My mom and I fought a lot after my step-dad died. It became such a hostile environment that I moved in with my abusive bio father at the start of the pandemic. While we were stuck together, his anger grew exponentially. I ignored it, and I shouldn’t have, because In March of 2022 he threatened my life. I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt mere days after. I had lost my home, my belongings, everything in the span of moments. I felt like the world was burning again. When I got back, I found a place to stay, a new job, and found access to mental health care. Somehow after everything happened, things started to change for the better. I started new medication, I started therapy, and suddenly I started to feel okay for the first time in years. I decided that now was as good of a time as any to take a leap of faith and finally pursue my goals of higher education. I applied for my dream school, and I got in! I was in total disbelief, I still am. After a lifetime of struggling, I was finally being given an opportunity to turn things around. The only obstacle standing in between me and my dreams is financials. I grew up in poverty, and I have no co-signer, so I have no way to take out the full amount I need in student loans. I am working 3 jobs to make this happen, because I’ve known what I’ve wanted to do with my life from the time I was a little kid, and I’m not going to let anything stand in my way. This scholarship could help me build a new life that is liveable.

The person who has supported me the most in reaching my educational goals has been, by far, my mother. Last year, I nearly lost my life. Due to a complicated set of reasons, I was--at the time--living with my father, who has a history of being abusive. I grew up with his violent outbursts and they became nothing more than an annoyance over time. I stopped taking it seriously when I became a legal adult because, in my mind, there was nothing he could do that I could not escape. I had no idea, at the time, just how wrong I was to write off his capabilities. My dad and I fought a lot. I took time away from school before starting college to deal with some mental health issues I developed as a result of the pandemic. It was the best decision for my situation, and in hindsight, I'm glad I made that choice. My father, on the other hand, was not supportive of my struggles with mental health. He made constant derogatory comments, he screamed at me, and he blamed me for the fact that my little brother never came to visit him. Over time, his resentment for me grew to a point where I was afraid for my safety at times. Then one day it all came to a head. I lost my home, my beloved pets, and everything I owned. My father threatened my life. Nearly a year later I remember the feeling in my chest that convinced me he had meant it. I ran up the street with only what I had in my hands. I called my mom, hysterically crying with a mix of fear and betrayal, and before I knew it I was sitting on her couch with only a small backpack of my belongings on the floor. The metal bar in the middle of my mother's fold-out couch hits my spine as I sleep every night, it's been this way for nearly 11 months. My mental health took such a negative turn that I ended up hospitalized last March. I felt like my life was over. In all truth, however, my mother's quick actions were precisely the reason my life was not over. I was alive because of her. My situation in this last year has given me a lot to think about, and one of the surprising things on that list has been my plans for school. I didn't know if or when I'd ever go to college. My mental well-being was so bad that I never had faith I'd make it that far. Staying with my mom again gave me the peace I needed to start my recovery journey. My mom helped me get treatment for my mental health. She helped me get to appointments, helped me get my medication from the pharmacy, and overall she did everything she could to make things easier for me. A few months after the incident, I started to feel so much better that I decided this terrible life event could be an opportunity to start fresh. I applied to college, for the first time ever. My mom drove me all the way from Riverside to Hollywood, CA to audition at my dream school in December of last year. I didn't believe I had any chance, but she had so much faith that I could do it. In January of this year, I found out she was right. I got into my dream school thanks to the immense support of my mother over this last year, and I couldn't be more grateful.

When I was a junior in High School, my school went into lockdown four times in the span of a week. The first three were hollow threats, the last was not. A student, during after-school hours, hopped the fence onto my high school campus fully armed. I was there for extracurriculars, a lot of people were. It took police over twenty minutes to show up. That same week, there were over 7 news stories of successful acts of gun violence in the news. I grew up my entire life afraid I wouldn't make it home alive. I remember doing active shooter drills in kindergarten. I remember sitting in a silent room of terrified, five-year-old children who didn't understand the point of practicing for the eventuality of their murders. I went to school every day wondering if it would be the last time anyone saw me alive, wondering if I'd ever see my parents again, wondering if today would be the day somebody showed up to end my life. I woke up every day to headline after headline of mass shootings. There were people murdered in schools, synagogues, and shopping plazas. I was made aware from a very young age that I was safe nowhere. I was at risk of being murdered at a moment's notice, no matter where I was, no matter what I did. Every slammed textbook, every pop of chewing gum bubbles, and every classroom door shut slightly too loud became instant palpitations in my chest. I had near-daily panic attacks and nightmares about watching my friends bleed out on the floor of my high school hallways. I spent every day of my adolescence praying to god that it wouldn't be the last. A big way that I learned to cope with my anxiety was through performance art. I got involved with theater around the age of nine, and I have been involved with extracurriculars surrounding it for the last twelve years. In my high school theater class, we talked a lot about gun violence. We watched various productions of "Bang Bang You're Dead," a production about victims of a school shooting speaking to their murderer. We read scripts about the issue, news stories, and articles. We all grieved together when the news was full of death. We didn't ignore the elephant in the room. Instead, we spoke about it constantly, we used theater as a way to create catharsis for our fear. The discussions that happened in that community sparked a school-wide walk-out for better safety measures on campus later that year. It created change for a lot of students who realized that they didn't have to accept the improper ways our school was responding to threats of serious violence. There were a lot of walk-outs and protests because of the advocacy of the theater department on campus. I am now pursuing the industry of entertainment professionally. It is my personal belief that art has a huge impact on the way people view and talk about certain topics. The representation of certain ideas in media is what shapes how the public views those concepts. I believe that the most efficient way to get people to take gun violence seriously is to reflect this issue in popular media, in a way that garners sympathy and understanding from those who formerly were on the fence about this topic. I believe I can use my talents in filmmaking to create change in our community and to influence others to get involved in social and political advocacy against gun violence in this country.

I am an arts major at a performing arts college in Hollywood, CA. I got into my dream school in January of 2023 after completing my audition in December of the previous year. When I got the news that I was accepted to my dream school, I could hardly believe it. After a lifetime of adverse experiences, I couldn't believe my life was taking a turn for the better. I have Autism Spectrum Disorder and ADHD. As a result of this, I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age. I was abused in many ways as a child because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I suffered a lot of psychological trauma because of the childhood experiences I endured. I developed anxiety as a child, depression as a teen, Borderline Personality Disorder by the age of 18, and PTSD by the time I was 20 years old. I was always very grateful for the efforts my mother put in to protect my brother and me, but unfortunately it wasn't enough to keep us unharmed. I found my emotional outlet at the age of nine when I performed in my first on-stage production. It might seem silly, but that was the moment that changed my life forever. I learned that the arts were a medium for me to express the pain and injustice I'd endured. I am a firm believer that the media we consume shapes the collective understanding of marginalized groups. I never saw any part of myself accurately represented in the media as a queer, disabled teenager who was struggling in a low-income, single-parent household. I felt incredibly alone because I was the first person "like me" that most people had ever met. I wished every day that I had some kind of media to engage with that gave me a sense of community or belonging because I didn't get that from the people in my life. I wanted to do that. I wanted to be capable of changing the collective opinion. That is what led to my lifelong goal of being a filmmaker. I wanted to be the one who put people like me into the media in a positive light, so other kids in the future didn't have to feel quite so alone. In 2022 I decided to take a leap of faith by applying to my dream school in Hollywood, CA. Little did I know that two weeks after my audition in December, I would be awarded an acceptance letter. It was a pipe dream, I never thought it would happen, but here I was. I was overcome with a confusing mix of joy and anxiety. This was finally happening, I did it--but how would I do it from here? I grew up barely floating above the poverty line. I grew up without an extended family. I had no money, no one to cosign on a student loan, and no private loan companies willing to help me without a cosigner. It's very difficult, as a disabled person, to maintain work. It makes this endeavor exhausting, and emotionally draining. I currently have three jobs, and I am donating plasma on the side to make ends meet. Nevertheless, I'm going to achieve my dreams if it's the last thing I do, because I believe so strongly in the cause I'm pursuing. I know it's what I was meant to do, and I've known that for a very long time.

My mom, growing up, would tell me that before she had kids she wanted to own a bakery. My whole life she loved to bake. She’s made cupcakes from scratch for every birthday I’ve ever had. She loved my dad so much that she gave her dream up to raise their first two kids (my older siblings) to adulthood. My dad abused her for as long as they were married, and me for as long as they were together during my lifetime. She divorced him having no money, job experience, or family to fall back on. She needed to get away from him to protect herself and her youngest two kids, so, she took that risk knowing the potential consequences. She gave up everything she wanted to do with her life in an act of love for someone who decided to mistreat and abuse her in return. When she finally saw through it, she left with my brother and me, and she raised us alone. I couldn’t be more grateful for the sacrifices she made to keep us safe, but I wish things turned out better for all of us. I’ve had a dream of pursuing the arts since I was a kid. I’ve been an artist for 12 years. I know I was made for this industry, and I have no doubts about my ability to succeed. My mom has never once doubted me. She’s been my biggest supporter in pursuing my dreams. A large part of me thinks it's because she never got to pursue her own. She talks a lot about how much she wanted to open that bakery, and it makes me sad that she never got to. She has a cupcake-related blog currently, and I can only hope it fulfills the sense of longing she always had for the world of baking. A lot of parents would consider my dreams unrealistic, and maybe for a lot of people, they are. For me though, I could never see myself doing anything else, and I owe that realization to the support of my mother. I grew up with a social deficit disorder, and I didn't ever fit in with other kids. I struggled to survive in classroom environments, and I didn't ever quite feel "human." I was ostracized, and considered 'offputting' by a majority of people in my life. When I entered the workforce I realized that my struggles were not confined to the education system. I struggled to keep traditional jobs, I went through over six employers within my first two years of working. The traditional workforce destroyed my sense of self-worth and made me think I'd never amount to anything. After a while, however, I realized that it wasn't my fault. Traditional work environments were not made with disabled people in mind, and it was not my fault that I struggled to mold myself to unrealistic standards. The only place I've ever felt a sense of belonging to is the community of art. When I was involved with the arts as a kid, I felt like a human being for the only time in my life. I've known for a long time that the arts are the only thing I'd ever be happy doing with my life, but the confidence to pursue those career goals didn't come from nowhere. I owe my sense of career ambition and future optimism to my mother, because she always believed in me no matter how much I struggled in other aspects of my life. I’m pursuing the arts to honor my mother’s sacrifices.

I grew up with multiple disabilities of mostly either a neurological or psychological nature. I was diagnosed with ADHD at a very early age due to the extreme nature of my symptoms. Many girls are not diagnosed at all, and even if they are, their struggles are not typically noticed until a much later age than would be typical for boys with the same condition. For very similar reasons, the fact that I also had autism was missed for many many years. I grew up with debilitating social deficits and sensory issues with no explanation as to why. I didn't feel like a human being. I felt entirely unlike the other people in my life. I struggled to connect to my peers in any meaningful way, and I faced constant bullying that I did not grasp the weight of at the time. I didn't understand that people were constantly making jokes at my expense, and using me to get the things they wanted. As a result of my social struggles, I continued to give them chance after chance to be my friends, because I didn't understand their true intent. I didn't have any basis for what friendship was supposed to look like, so I settled for whatever limited forms of positive connection I could get, regardless of how much harm it did to my self-worth. In high school, I developed debilitating symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I had constant panic attacks, they were so extreme I'd often make myself vomit. I often couldn't get to lunch break before having one, if not several. I was a nervous breakdown waiting to happen, a constantly ticking time bomb, and I had no help in managing my symptoms. I faced a lot of mistreatment and abuse in my home life, in addition to the bullying and social ostracization I was facing in school. By the time I was a junior in high school, I had developed warning signs of a serious, psychological-trauma-induced disorder known as Borderline Personality Disorder. This disorder is associated with a pathological fear of abandonment, debilitating mood swings, self-destructive behavior, chronic feelings of "hollowness," and continual suicidal urges. The suicide rate of people with BPD is high. It is estimated that 70-80% of people with the disorder will attempt suicide at some point in their life, and I am no exception. The only outlet I ever had to deal with my lifelong struggles was the arts. I joined a theater group at the age of nine, and I was involved in over fifteen productions by the time I graduated high school. From the moment I first discovered the performing arts, I knew that the stage was my home. In the moments I was performing, nothing else mattered. I felt like a person, a person capable of anything she wanted to do in life, a person who wasn't going to be defined by the brain she was born with. I felt so alive, and I knew that I wanted other people to experience that for themselves. That is why I have decided to pursue an education in acting and filmmaking. I got into my dream school earlier this year. It's a performing arts college in Hollywood, CA with a reputation for excellent industry resources. My life goal is to own my own production company someday. I've always wanted to create art that makes other people feel the sense of catharsis and euphoria that art has always given to me as a performer. I want to give disabled people like myself a chance to thrive in the spotlight.

My sense of leadership initially came from a very dark place, but that story is intertwined with the creation of the amazing dreams I have for my life. I benefit a lot from my ambition and drive for leadership, even if it didn't necessarily come from a positive place. My lifelong dream is to start my own production company. I found my love for the art of telling stories through my very challenging upbringing. I was brought up in an abusive household. My dad was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive toward my mother, brother, and me. He was also fiscally abusive towards my mother, which trapped her and her children in that marriage for a very long time. I grew up with two older siblings, both a little over a decade older than me, who felt no responsibility to protect their younger siblings from the abuse they knew was happening. There were no efforts made by any party to get my brother and I out of that abusive environment. This meant that at an early age, I was the one who developed the drive to fight against our situation because no one else was willing to protect me, and I quickly learned that relying on outward help wasn't feasible. Either I was going to keep us safe, or no one was. Leadership, when I was growing up, meant standing up to the abuse at home. It means standing between my brother and our father, or even between him and my mother. It means screaming back, returning acts of physical violence, and learning how to de-escalate situations for the adults in my life who refused to do so themselves. Leadership, to me growing up, meant learning how to use the bus system as a teenager so that I could get my brother and me away from bad situations if it came down to it. It meant always having a plan and an emergency bag packed in case things went south. My brother has looked to me for help many times, and I'm proud of that fact, because I had no one to look to for guidance, and he deserved better than what I was given. Leadership, taking charge, being the decision-maker--it was a role I was born into. My leadership skills developed out of absolute necessity, but that doesn't mean that's all they're good for. My dream is to develop and run a film production company. I have loved the arts since I was very young, and I've known for a long time that the stage is where I was meant to spend my life. I've had a lot of struggles to overcome, but it's given me skills that other people don't have. I am adept at crisis management, adaptation, organization, and most of all stepping up and taking charge of difficult situations. Leadership, to me, means not being afraid to take on the bulk of a workload. It means not letting the fear of being underqualified or inexperienced prevent me from taking on new responsibilities. Leadership and ambition have gotten me through all of my life's challenges, and I know they're going to carry me to great, successful places in the future.

I have lived a life of constant chaos for as long as I can remember. In a lot of ways, this was negatively impactful for me, especially to my psychological wellbeing. However, I also believe that my experiences made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age, because I was born with neurological disabilities. I was mistreated in many ways as a child because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I struggled a lot as a kid emotionally, but I had an outlet that helped me more than anything else in the world. The thing that got me through my difficult upbringing was my exposure to the performing arts. To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Even though its not overtly present, if you spend enough time in these industries you will be made aware that these biases still exist. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture, and I think that has to be one of the most disingenuous ways to create art. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through entertainment.

Books have shaped my worldview immensely. I grew up in a generation that was reading The Hunger Games, Divergent, and other pro-revolutionist books in their formative years. That same generation went on to read George Orwell's thought-provoking works in high school. Then they graduated into the height of a global pandemic and witnessed the terrifying stories in these works of fiction become closer to reality than ever. If I could have everyone in the world read just one book it would be '1984' by George Orwell. The dystopian world that these characters live in is a metaphor for late-stage capitalism, as seen by the exaggerated separation of economic classes within the novel. The characters live in fear of "big brother," which is a euphemism for the government's hyper-surveillance over the working class. With companies selling our information left and right and hiding the scale of their interconnected monopolies, we are reaching a point where we too should be afraid of "Big Brother." This book is eerily similar to our current post-pandemic world, especially for the working class, and I believe that if more people read this book we could start seeing our society for what it is. Over half of Americans are paid too little to survive, they are worked to the bone, and they don't have any money to do things that bring them a sense of joy. The working class is being exponentially exploited while the 1% gets richer and richer off the labor of people they don't care about the well-being of. The pandemic taught us that the government cares more about money than they do human life, and that issue is reflected in a very insightful way in George Orwell's '1984.' To describe the state of modern capitalism in this country as "Orwellian" would be an understatement, and I wish more people understood exactly what that phrase meant. George Orwell's book could provide a much-needed lesson to many Americans in the modern day. The books I read as a child shaped the way that I view the entire structure of society. I read about Katniss volunteering to die in order to save her sister, and later in my life, I watched my friend's sister enlist in the military to keep her immigrant family safe from being deported back to their life-threatening homeland. I've drawn many parallels between the books I've read and my own life experiences, in addition to the life experiences of those around me. I believe reading is important to the fundamental understanding of societal structure and norms. I believe reading makes people smarter, more intuitive, and better at critical thinking. Reading is an expression of art and art, in my opinion, is the most wholly human act we can participate in.

Recovery, to me, means creating a life worth living. I have had a very difficult life. I was born disabled, I grew up in an abusive environment, and I have had many adverse life experiences. Growing up, I didn't know how to cope with what I was feeling. I was struggling immensely psychologically, and for a long time, I didn't have the words to describe what I was feeling. Not dealing with your issues doesn't make them go away, however. It only makes you start to cope in maladaptive ways. The only way that I knew to cope growing up was with distraction. It was with various different things over the course of my life, some more harmful than others, but all of them detrimental to my well-being. I know now that the only way to not have to rely on those distractions to move forward is to create a life for myself that I don't need to be distracted from. That is why I am pursuing higher education. I am 21 years old and I didn't get the chance to go to college right away, because of what a dark place I was in post-high school. I've made big strides through therapy and personal reflection over the last couple years, and I know now that the final step in my recovery process is creating a life that I love living unobstructed from distractions. I'm going to college to pursue my dreams, in an effort to turn my life around.

Recovery, to me, means creating a life worth living. I have had a very difficult life. I was born disabled, I grew up in an abusive environment, and I have had many adverse life experiences. Growing up, I didn't know how to cope with what I was feeling. I was struggling immensely psychologically, and for a long time, I didn't have the words to describe what I was feeling. Not dealing with your issues doesn't make them go away, however. It only makes you start to cope in maladaptive ways. The only way that I knew to cope growing up was with distraction. It was with various different things over the course of my life, some more harmful than others, but all of them detrimental to my well-being. Both my parents, at some point in their lives, struggled with alcohol use. I didn't realize that as a kid, because adults have ways of hiding these types of things, but I understand now the kind of situation that led them down this path. I never thought that I would fall into the pattern of addiction, I don't think anyone thinks it will be them. Then, before you know it, its happened to you and you don't know how to get out of it. I know now that the only way to not have to rely on those distractions to move forward is to create a life for myself that I don't need to be distracted from. That is why I am pursuing higher education. I am 21 years old and I didn't get the chance to go to college right away, because of what a dark place I was in post-high school. I had a very difficult upbringing and I have struggled with serious psychological problems as a result of my experiences. I didn't have access to the help I needed growing up, and it forced me to cope in the only ways I had available to me at the time. When I became an adult, I put the effort into seeking help in a more responsible way. I've made big strides through therapy and personal reflection over the last couple years, and I know now that the final step in my recovery process is creating a life that I love living unobstructed from distractions. I'm going to college to pursue my dreams, in an effort to turn my life around.

People don't realize what kind of an impact your childhood can have on your likelihood to end up in an abusive relationship. Being raised in an environment where screaming, fighting, and acts of physical violence were normalized made me drawn to the same personalities that were present in my childhood. I never felt loved as a kid, and fundamentally I believed that no one was even capable of loving me. I fell in love for the first time when I was a teenager. My partner was someone I had known for many years, we were friends for a long time. When things became romantic between the two of us I felt like this was proof that my extremely difficult childhood did not, in fact, make me unlovable. How could I be unlovable when someone I cared about so much said they loved me? Our relationship was proof to me that there was at least one person in the world who loved me, but a big part of me believed they were the only person. That's why when things took a turn, and they started exhibiting the same abusive behavior I had experienced in my childhood, I didn't bat an eye. I wasn't scared, because my upbringing made me used to it, and I continually tried to justify their actions so I didn't have to accept that this situation was dangerous. My entire sense of self-worth was wrapped up in this relationship. I had never felt loved before, and I didn't think I'd ever experience the love they gave me again. As a result of that, I stayed. I defended their actions over and over again. All the while I was trying to make them love me enough to stop. I was scared, and I was in love with the person I was scared of, and I didn't know how to leave. If I could go back and show teenage me that there was an entire world outside this relationship, I could have gotten out a lot sooner. This is the case for many women in abusive situations. It feels like there's nothing outside the life they've created with their partner. From an outside perspective, it's objectively not true, but when you're in the midst of that situation, you don't have an outside perspective. Many women do not feel empowered to leave abusive situations, and that's a huge problem. I believe the normalization of violence in childhood is a main contributing factor in whether a woman will have the means to escape violent relationships. We don't educate kids on what abuse looks like, we just expect them to know. When those kids grow up, they don't see the signs. I think that can be changed. Information is power, and one of the most efficient ways to spread information is through media. Think about the little things you've learned from your favorite sources of entertainment. You would never have thought about how 'probable cause' works if you never watched Breaking Bad, right? You know more information by consuming media because the best way to learn is in a fun, real-world applicable way. I believe this concept can be used to educate kids and teens about how healthy relationships should function. I believe it can be used to teach people who grew up in situations like mine that there's a world of people out there who won't treat them badly. I want to help people learn in ways that will actually benefit them, and I believe the arts are the best way to accomplish that goal.

My career goals were influenced largely by the fact that my mother did not have the opportunity to pursue her own. My mom, growing up, would tell me that before she had kids she wanted to own a bakery. My whole life she loved to bake. She’s made cupcakes from scratch for every birthday I’ve ever had. She loved my dad so much that she gave her dream up to raise their first two kids (my older siblings) to adulthood. My dad abused her for as long as they were married, and me for as long as they were together during my lifetime. She divorced him having no money, job experience, or family to fall back on. She needed to get away from him to protect herself and her youngest two kids, so, she took that risk knowing the potential consequences. She gave up everything she wanted to do with her life in an act of love for someone who decided to mistreat and abuse her in return. When she finally saw through it, she left with my brother and me, and she raised us alone. I couldn’t be more grateful for the sacrifices she made to keep us safe, but I wish things turned out better for all of us. I’ve had a dream of pursuing the arts since I was a kid. I know I was made for this industry, and I have no doubts about my ability to succeed. I've written published works, I've been in over 15 productions, and my work has even made the news. My mom has never once doubted me. She’s been my biggest supporter in pursuing my dreams. A large part of me thinks it's because she never got to pursue her own. She talks a lot about how much she wanted to open that bakery, and it makes me sad that she never got to. I really wish that my mom got to go to college, to culinary school, and got to spend her life doing what she actually wanted. I'm pursuing higher education in my dream career, because my mother fought for me to have that chance, and I'm not going to let her down. I'm going to work hard to make my dreams a reality. I got into my dream performing arts school, and I'm going to make an impact in the world through the art I create. I'm going to make my mom proud.

I have lived a life of constant chaos for as long as I can remember. In a lot of ways, this was negatively impactful for me, especially to my psychological wellbeing. However, I also believe that my experiences made me a deeply caring and empathetic person who has a more in-depth grasp on the complexities of our human experience than many. I grew up confronting the reality of ableism from an early age, because I was born with neurological disabilities. I was mistreated in many ways as a child because my mom couldn't afford to leave my abusive father until I was a teenager. When she finally did, we ended a struggling single-parent household for the entire rest of my upbringing. I struggled a lot as a kid emotionally, but I had an outlet that helped me more than anything else in the world. The thing that got me through my difficult upbringing was my exposure to the performing arts. To me, there is nothing more healing than the arts. I joined my first theater group when I was nine and knew instantly that it was where I was meant to be. The arts, to me and many others, are a pathway to catharsis. They’re an outlet to express unprocessed emotions and experiences in a safe and supportive environment. The arts are a way to help people turn their life difficulties into something beautiful and meaningful. My dream is to own a production company, because I want people to be able to get the same sense of comfort and catharsis from my art that I got from other people’s growing up. I want people like me to be more accurately represented in the media. I love the arts, and I benefit a lot from my involvement in them, but many people are barred from experiencing the joys of artistic expression because of the lack of inclusivity in these spaces. Many areas of the film industry still fall into old stereotypes of perpetuating misogyny, racism, ableism, homophobia, and other kinds of hateful ideologies. Even though its not overtly present, if you spend enough time in these industries you will be made aware that these biases still exist. Media shapes the beliefs of general society, and I believe it is the job of people who create this media to uplift underprivileged groups that the industry of media has historically contributed to the mistreatment of. Marginalized communities such as disabled people or people of color are often demonized in popular culture, and I think that has to be one of the most disingenuous ways to create art. We deserve to be seen in a positive light and I want to be the one to make that happen for people. I want to make media that people take meaningful messages from, media that improves society. I want to help people who feel alone have a sense of social support accessible to them through entertainment.

Math to me is a form of art. I actually have a learning disability called dyscalculia. It is a difference in the brain that makes processing the fundamentals of mathematics incredibly challenging, if not impossible. This disorder is comparable to people with dyslexia's struggle with reading. I have always struggled to understand the concepts behind mathematics, but it doesn't stop me from having a love and admiration for the study. I love how impactful mathematics is in our world. I love that it can be used to program machines, to build apartments, to save lives--I admire the study of mathematics unbelievably so. I look up to people who excel in these concepts and wish sincerely that I had an equal starting point in the understanding of these concepts. Math is what I use to engage in my love for baking. It helps me explore my love of woodworking. It helps me be a more competent person overall. I love math, even if it is a challenge for me because math is so fundamental to the very basis of our world. I love math because it explains the very basic concepts of our universe. It is the basis of so many of the fundamental concepts that make up our existence. For instance, statistically, it is unlikely that any of us exist, but we do. In the process of our life's creation, there was an incredibly slim chance for any of us to be the one that made it to the point of conception, and eventually to the point of being born. The chances that our DNA worked out to make us exactly who we presently are was minuscule, but somehow it happened. According to a BBC article, statistically, we only differ genetically from a stranger by less than 0.1%. However, this amazingly small number still provides the opportunity for over 10 million DNA variations. The statistical chance of you being who you are today was so small, but here we all are, alive and unbelievably unique. The odds of you ending up as "you" were essentially zero, no exaggeration, but you ended up the person you are regardless. I think that's one of the most beautiful things to know about our existence--that we beat the reliable laws of statistics. I think knowing the exact math behind how unlikely it was that we ended up here today is incredible, and we wouldn't have that kind of information without historically genius mathematicians who dedicated their lives to the intermingled worlds of math and science. Math is indisputably important to understanding the fundamentals of our world, and that's exactly why I have such an appreciation for it.

I have never been socially accepted. I was born disabled and I never fit in with the other kids in my community. In my early childhood, the only friend I really had was my younger brother. When I was about six or seven I joined my first sports team. It was an all-girls, community soccer team that met every wednesday to practice. My mom sat by the sidelines and cheered me on. She brought cut-up orange slices for me and my teammates. I still remember the sunshine peaking through the clouds, and the fresh dew on the green grass during early morning practices. I played and played for hours with these girls, and it was one of the most fun experiences I've ever had. I wasn't the best player, I wasn't a prodegy by any means, but that's not what made sports special to me. I had never had common grounds to bond with my peers over, and this was the first time I'd ever felt a sense of community before. I didn't stick with soccer for all that long. I liked it, of course, but I have a bad case of ADHD and I tend to get bored with routine. When I was a little older, I joined a community softball team. I played on that team for a little over two years. Our team name was "The Diamond Dolls." I loved my teammates. I loved getting to meet new people and bonding over our mutual love of sports. While playing softball, I discovered a love for running that eventually led me to join cross country and track in high school. When I was in high school I was a tri-athlete (quad-athlete?). In the fall I was on the cross-country team. Then in the winter, I played water polo. In the spring, I was on two teams. I was a pole vaulter for track and field and I was on the swim team. (Not to brag, but I also had a casual hobby of archery.) During this, I was also involved in the high school theater department. Which, if you know, is honestly a sport in itself. Looking back, I have no idea how I balanced so much, but I did just fine with all the commitments. It gave me an outlet for all my nervous energy as a kid, and I learned a lot about myself. When I was in high school English class freshman year, I was asked to pick three words that described me. I've been asked that question many times since then, but my answer has always stayed the same. "Ambitious, kind, innovative." Playing sports growing up made me realize that I exemplified these traits and my experiences in athletics have given me the confidence to pursue my dreams.