Devin Burchett My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up, I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up, I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

Devin Burchett My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up, I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

Devin Burchett My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my Devin Burchett good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. Freedom of speech and of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the US, seeking religious freedom. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990. My family’s story taught important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns I struggled with a strong degree of depression. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family. This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of study.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I plan for this to be a primary focus of my research in college.

There are several different aspects of and subjects within academia that I have an interest in. I have, at various times,’ been interested in history, politics, architecture, engineering, and psychology. It is often difficult to choose between them therefore many of my research ideas have to do with a combination of these interests. History’s Great Historical Figures and the Psychological Factors that Drove Them I have long had a desire to do a thorough psychoanalysis of many great and terrible historical figures. This seems to me an obvious way to combine two of my greater areas of interest. The study could be focused on figures from any given time period, however ideally it would focus on a far broader view of history. This would be ideal for determining how much or how little the mindsets that make these memorable persons have changed over time. In other words, it would help determine if the same traits that made someone great in ancient India or Carthage are the same traits that would make someone great in modern globalized politics. In that regard, it would also be key to be mindful of the effects of cultural differences and how they affect behavior and perception. It is also important to note that this study would not always be necessarily focused on national or governmental leaders, however, many of history’s greatest figures do tend to hold positions of political authority. For the purposes of this study “great” would be defined not by someone’s morality nor a modern view of success, but rather by how memorably they had left their mark on history and also how effective they were at accomplishing their ends and aims. I will attempt to take special care to ensure that the study is not Eurocentric in focus. While it is not necessarily a primary focus of the study, it is important to ensure that the figures studied are from a wide variety of cultures and backgrounds to make the study more widely applicable and useful. On that note, this study will be potentially very key to the modern political situation internationally. It is my hope that when understanding the psychology of different historical figures while taking cultural differences into account, we can better understand and predict the actions of modern figures in positions of power and use this to avoid conflict and create a safer world.

My mother was born in Moldova, a small Eastern European nation that was under the control of the Soviet Union before it fell, and grew up under Russian rule there. The Romanian language, which was the primary language spoken in Moldova, was heavily restricted under Soviet rule. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion was non-existent. My grandfather was sentenced to two years of hard labor for distributing Bibles. After his release, my mother’s family applied for asylum in the United States, seeking religious freedom and economic opportunity. They were finally permitted to leave in 1990, just one year before the Soviet Union collapsed. My family’s story has taught me many important lessons. My grandfather passed away battling cancer in 2012 when I was just a young boy, yet I still remember how he always had a goofy smile on his face. He held eternal gratitude for all the freedoms and opportunities we have in America. Having been born in America, in her prosperity and decadence, I have often lost sight of the gratitude I ought to hold. I have had to learn the hard way that a lack of gratitude will rob any joy one can find. A distinct lack of gratitude is what I now believe to have been a primary cause of many of my mental health struggles. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, I, like many people, struggled with a strong degree of depression and despondency. Isolation, despite its probable necessity, created feelings of abandonment in my young and developing mind. I felt abandoned by my friends, by society, and even by my family (as we were often quarantined from even each other). This drew up in me a general sentiment of separation from and toward the world around me. This is despite the fact that, for the most part, the people around me desired nothing more than my good. Eventually, and finally, the lockdowns ended, schools began to open back up, we returned to normal, and yet the harsh and ungrateful sentiments remained. Indeed, these general sentiments remained within me, although they were at that time pushed, for the most part, shoved to the back of my mind. As school opened up I made new friends; and my mental health seemed to improve. These friends, however, had a desire to separate me from my family and the culture that I grew up around. Why they desired to do so, even today I do not fully understand. I do not know why they pushed me to distance myself from my family and those I grew up with, but I do know that I chose to listen, and harmed many in the process. It hurt me perhaps most of all, although I do not desire to portray myself as a victim. I am a victim only of my own foolishness, I chose to distance myself out of the delusional belief that my family, and the healthy culture they raised me in, had abandoned me or failed me in some way. It was a most self-centered conception, and it led to my suicide attempt in early August 2021. When I survived, it was my family and those I had grown up with who were still by my side. The experience, while traumatic, ultimately restored my faith in people. My experience with mental health issues has also birthed a major passion within me. A desire to understand and help others who struggle with those same issues, especially those who have struggled with abandonment. I would love to help others with mental health issues.

I have grown up in quite fortunate circumstances, originally blind to the suffering around me. But as one grows, he sees beyond his circumstances, as I did. I grew a passion for meeting the needs of those struggling with mental illness. This was fueled largely by my struggles with depression which eventually led to attempted suicide. Without a strong support structure around me at that time, I would never have recovered. Knowing this I have always tried to lend that support to others. Another great passion of mine is our Veterans and their mental health. Since 2001 more than one hundred and twenty thousand American veterans have fallen victim to suicide… This is what I have chosen to dedicate my future toward preventing. I hope to create a nonprofit organization for veteran care and suicide prevention. My primary motivation in day-to-day life is the hope my generation can and will have a positive impact on this world. My generation is one increasingly lacking in hope. We are not void of it yet, however. I wish to leave the world in a better place than I found it. I hope that college will help me to become the man I need to be to help others around me. I am planning on becoming a history professor and mentoring young people. I hope to build, within myself, confidence in my ideas because I will know that I have learned the proper methods to think them through. I hope more than anything to be able to speak with clarity of thought and purpose, to express my ideas for a better world. I am still considering a few careers as possibilities. Regardless of what I choose, however, research will be an important part of the job. The primary fields I am currently considering are professor of history, professor of psychology, and clinical psychology. As I stated, research will be a key part of any of these fields. As a history professor, it is key to keep up with the latest archeological findings and epistemological models to make sure that your teachings are accurate. For a professor of psychology, research will be perhaps the most important portion of my job. It will be important for any kind of professor to have my own findings and studies to report on, but psychology is an ever-evolving field whereas history usually only changes after years of discovery overthrow some misconception. One is not greater than the other, but to be an effective teacher of psychology it is even more important to be up to date on the research of methods of treatments and understandings of conditions and behaviors. A clinical psychologist has many of the same duties as a psychology professor when it comes to research. Much of clinical psychology is, of course, learned through experience, but the importance of knowing the latest studies and understanding the relevant literature should not be understated.

I am a grandson and a friend for two amazing and dedicated veterans. Both of them are so passionate about their service and the freedom they provided to the United States of America. What makes the United States of America special? What allows us to claim to be the leaders of the free world? One thing that we have all been reminded of in these past few, tumultuous years is that freedom, despite it being natural to strive towards, is not our default state. Freedom must be fought for and defended. Freedom OUGHT to be fought for and defended. But… why? Freedom will cost blood, toil, sweat, and tears. Is it worth the struggle, the toil, and most of all, the loss? Is freedom worth the millions of young men and women sent away to far-off lands to fight, defending the freedom of the next generation–a generation that so often shows no gratitude? Is freedom worth the men and women who come home from their service with injuries, both mental and physical, from which many will never recover; or, worse yet, is freedom worth them never coming home at all…never saying goodbye to their loved ones? Is it worth it? This is what makes the nation I have had the pleasure to be born into so incredibly special. Our Founding Fathers decided that freedom was worth fighting for. The great question remains, however: why? Why is it worth it? My greatest mentor, a former Sunday school teacher of mine, served in the Navy in Korea, and my paternal grandfather served in the Air Force during Vietnam. They both chose to fight for something bigger than themselves. They fought, not only for America but for what this great nation represents. Above all, our nation represents a certain freedom—not the freedom to do whatever we want, but the greater freedom to do what ought to be done. I am a beneficiary of this. I inherited this freedom through no work of my own. My maternal grandfather brought his family to this nation in hopes of attaining the very freedoms we often take for granted. America is not worth fighting for because of any selfish reason. It is those that fight selfishly that are forgotten; but it is those who are willing to give everything, defending what they truly believe in, that are worthy of being remembered. That, however, is my greatest shame as an American: we often do not remember our veterans. Since 2001 more than one hundred and twenty thousand American veterans have fallen victim to suicide… This is what I have chosen to dedicate my future toward preventing. I hope to create a nonprofit organization for veteran care and suicide prevention. Our veterans dedicated their lives to protect us and our freedom so we should dedicate ourselves to protecting their lives. They, more than anyone else, have earned their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Our veterans ought never to be forgotten. This ought to be how we use our freedom. This is what I ought to do with what I’ve inherited.

I am a grandson and a friend of 2 very special veterans. Both, my grandfather and Michael are very passionate about freedom and the need to defend freedom here in America. What makes the United States of America special? What allows us to claim to be the leaders of the free world? One thing that we have all been reminded of in this past few, tumultuous years is that freedom, despite it being natural to strive towards, is not our default state. Freedom must be fought for and defended. Freedom OUGHT to be fought for and defended. But… why? Freedom will cost blood, toil, sweat, and tears. Is it worth the struggle, the toil, and most of all, the loss? Is freedom worth the millions of young men and women sent away to far-off lands to fight, defending the freedom of the next generation–a generation that so often shows no gratitude? Is freedom worth the men and women who come home from their service with injuries, both mental and physical, from which many will never recover; or, worse yet, is freedom worth them never coming home at all…never saying goodbye to their loved ones? Is it worth it? This is what makes the nation I have had the pleasure to be born into so incredibly special. Our Founding Fathers decided that freedom was worth fighting for. The great question remains, however: why? Why is it worth it? My greatest mentor, a former Sunday school teacher of mine, served in the Navy in Korea, and my paternal grandfather served in the Air Force during Vietnam. They both chose to fight for something bigger than themselves. They fought, not only for America but for what this great nation represents. Above all, our nation represents a certain freedom—not the freedom to do whatever we want, but the greater freedom to do what ought to be done. I am a beneficiary of this. I inherited this freedom through no work of my own. My maternal grandfather brought his family to this nation in hopes of attaining the very freedoms we often take for granted. America is not worth fighting for because of any selfish reason. It is those that fight selfishly that are forgotten; but it is those who are willing to give everything, defending what they truly believe in, that are worthy of being remembered. That, however, is my greatest shame as an American: we often do not remember our veterans. Since 2001 more than one hundred and twenty thousand American veterans have fallen victim to suicide… This is what I have chosen to dedicate my future toward preventing. I hope to create a nonprofit organization for veteran care and suicide prevention. Our veterans dedicated their lives to protect us and our freedom so we should dedicate ourselves to protecting their lives. They, more than anyone else, have earned their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Our veterans ought never to be forgotten. This ought to be how we use our freedom. This is what I ought to do with what I’ve inherited.

In 9th grade, I was accepted to participate in the Engineering Academy program, at Olathe Northwest High School. It is one of the 21st-century Academies that they pride themselves upon within that school district. I participated in it for 2 years before transferring to a Christian private school for largely faith-based reasons. Although while in the program I realized that Engineering is not my truest calling, I have been changed and developed into the person I am today from the many exciting challenges it presented as well as the not-so-fun ones. I Engaged in socially relevant design challenges, demonstrated how engineers solve problems for human benefit and collaborated to complete a series of design challenges using relevant STEM concepts. I Learned authentic engineering practices in a project-based setting. An environment of listening and collaboration was heavily emphasized. Most of all, I built resilience and problem-solving skills. I have grown up in quite fortunate circumstances, originally blind to the suffering around me. But as one grows, he sees beyond his circumstances, as I did. I grew a passion for meeting the needs of those struggling with mental illness. This was fueled largely by my struggles with depression which eventually led to attempted suicide. Without a strong support structure around me at that time, I would never have recovered. Knowing this I have always tried to lend that support to others. Another great passion of mine is our Veterans and their mental health. Since 2001 more than one hundred and twenty thousand American veterans have fallen victim to suicide… This is what I have chosen to dedicate my future toward preventing. I hope to create a nonprofit organization for veteran care and suicide prevention My primary motivation in day-to-day life is the hope my generation can and will have a positive impact on this world. My generation is one increasingly lacking in hope. We are not void of it yet, however. I wish to leave the world in a better place than I found it. I hope that college will help me to become the man I need to be to help others around me. I am planning on becoming a history professor and mentoring young people. I hope to build, within myself, confidence in my ideas because I will know that I have learned the proper methods to think them through. I hope more than anything to be able to speak with clarity of thought and purpose, to express my ideas for a better world.