I want to be immortal, and my entire life I've been inspired to create myself so. Under my morning sun, I find questions arising of my existentialism. I question my being —scouring through my accomplishments and great losses in hopes of finding, at my core, greatness, longing to be awakened. I question the extent of my humanity, deeply wanting to touch all the edges of the world with my diminutive mind. With this gaze, I flip through the pages of my memories, overseeing my past sentiments and their corresponding real-world manifestations in search of something great I dropped within. As I flip through my encyclopedia, I stumble upon an entry titled “rain,” in which I recall moments of myself enticed by a blank canvas and stubborn easel adjacent to my bedroom window. As I observe, I ponder, eventually comparing the rain to thought-provoking topics like famine or grief or feelings of eternity— I trap these visions in my media. Like my thoughts, bringing life to the rain brings me greatness. I could never lie to my paintbrush, and I could spend hours on end connecting metaphors and analogies in beautiful arrays of truth.  Later I revisit an awestriking category of my memory: myself roaming through ancient buildings. Next to this visceral setting, curiosity, the concept of deeply resenting the compacity of your mind, using its eye to reach out, trying to grasp the things you cannot see, is my flaw. In these caskets of history, I am an archaeologist Instinctively drawn to the cracks in the walls, longing to date and classify the missing artifact. During these moments, I find myself easily over-questioning my sources, needing to see and learn and feel what was before, feelings and sights that no longer exist. A reminder that time is the greatest allure yet the same, the greatest bringer of death. I could spend forever gathering facts for mysteries I have yet to cross —just to one day be able to fill every crack in the world with beautiful hypotheses.  If I am grounded by my ability and through my success, I’m left constantly yearning for more, then it is my thoughts that lead me to satisfaction, it is through thoughtfully driven action that I find my conclusion and feel my extense. Without great ideas, there can be no immortality to aspire to; therefore, I will never stop thinking.  If I am to be remembered, I want to be thought of as the liberation of art. I want to be remembered through my creations. A pillar of hope to my community. I will be an inspiration to others, showing them that pursuing their dreams is greatness.

"Pay It Forward" is a phrase many have used throughout life. This phrase means that you should return and amplify the positivity you have found in the world. The reason this phrase is so important is that it teaches people how to be kind and have respect for others, even if they do not know you personally. In my community, paying it forward is essential; whether it be a kind neighbor waving to you in a chain of never-ending "hellos’" or a concerned stranger returning a beloved misplaced object, these acts echo. The term ripples through homes and quiet neighborhoods, infecting otherwise resting streets with smiles and fulfillment. In the classroom, painters erupt in conversation, littering the room with innovative ideas of all colors. We use these for masterpieces. In shoved-away breakrooms, the quiet laughter of overworked employees creeps into the conversation. We use this as adrenaline. At a cornered desk, a writer sits recollecting the encouragement of a long-lost mentor; by forming the lessons into art kindness becomes immortal. Through our shows of affection piece by piece, we change the world and distribute an ever-surplus compacity for greatness. The future has always been important to me. For as long as I can remember my neighborhood has been defined by its suffering and indifference. Void of kind strangers the world becomes reduced and still, life becomes limiting. Without an artist's compassionate touch or an author's recollection, we become lost and infected by the mundane. I remember my escapism through poetry, which eventually became painting. Mentored through education, I found the fulfillment lost to me, and I began to perceive the shut doors of my neighbors, never knowing the brief "hellos" under Starbucks cups. Begging to focus on the reparation of my community, I was exposed to the necessity in the act of returning support. Navigating life, it became essential to me to find the blind spots in society--the underappreciated and under-served. As we pass charitable deeds through our communities, we facilitate success, we create a supportive environment, and we initiate change. Through giving, we revive our communities. To pay it forward is the redistribution of service and appreciation. It is to volunteer at the center which gave sports to your community. It is to advocate for the organizations that advocate for you. It is to appreciate the art as much as the artist and to wave "hello" to the reclused neighbors.