On May 7, 2021, I didn't feel sad about feeling sad for the first time. I was in the office of my therapist. It may appear simple, but it was a trick I'd spent years practicing and attempting to master. I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder two and a half years ago, following a sexual assault immersion at school. I've always been an emotional person — "She has a lot of feelings," my best friend would chuckle when I got worked up about something or other in front of strangers — and my emotions are now massive. Frustration over a failed online makeup purchase results in so much yelling and foot-stomping that my neighbors complain. The intensity of a pop song lands like a punch to the chest, exploding any grief nestled there; Arianna Grande made me cry once. Sincerely: I am not easily moved by sadness. But, after a lot of retraining, I take it completely differently than I was raised to, and unlike almost everyone else I know. Now, when I'm not sad and think about sadness, it's accompanied by a startling thought: I miss it. Before therapy, this was the only thing I was ever taught about sadness, both implicitly and explicitly: it is bad. You do not desire it. If you have it, you should try to get rid of it as soon as possible. Whatever you do, don't subject others to it because they dislike it. To be sure, sadness can be legitimately problematic. You can't keep living like that if your sadness comes from seemingly nowhere or even an obvious place but prevents you from participating in life or enjoying anything and refuses to go away no matter how long you let it express itself. But, culturally, we are not permitted to be sad, even for a brief moment. Even when it makes perfect sense. Even when we desperately need it. I cried from uncontrollable, overwhelming, life-sucking sadness at times. And the sadness and crying itself freaked me out. I'd start crying and then immediately despise myself. What was I crying about? Why couldn't I get this sadness to leave me alone? What was the matter with me? I went to therapy. I'd been there before, casually and infrequently. It was now a therapy emergency. I thought I was pretty good at self-care in general, but I let it slip when I got too busy, when school was too demanding, or when I had to do things I knew I was getting too tired to do but did anyway. But taking care of myself was no longer an option. I had to make as much room for it as it required for survival. One of my closest childhood friends died in a car accident around this time. I was devastated and couldn't think or feel rationally. "How are you feeling?" my therapist inquired. "It's a shame," I said. Because of everything that had happened that day, I was especially sad. "I'm sad because one of my friends died." I was in tears as I described this. They were fantastic. My therapist understood because someone close to me had died, but when I started crying over minor inconveniences, she became concerned. If my favorite song came on the radio or I watched my favorite movie, I would cry. In retrospect, it was a little ridiculous. My therapist was composed. She told me to open my eyes and then asked what sensations I felt. I immediately imagined a child playing soccer. That's me right now, I reasoned. A child acting like a child and feeling sad about it—but not sad about feeling sad. That's all there was to it. It was all right. It was a moment of calm. I, or a child, being exactly what she was: alive. The significance of this moment was obvious to both of us. I hadn't panicked every time something sad happened in my life, like a breakup, but I'd never had that level of acceptance. And, as a person suffering from PTSD, I had completely lost trust in my own emotions, constantly fearing them, sadness included — or perhaps especially, because it was the most persistent. I was finally accepting it. That's how I came to be in a position to miss it. The intriguing nature of it. The distinction between it and other emotions. I recalled the sensations: the weight. The way it slowed things down and took up more space than anything else. It was exquisite, objectively, but also as evidence that I could feel that I was open and not shut down, capable of allowing a wide range of emotions to rush in and possibly overwhelm, but also move through and move me. The next time I felt sad after missing it, I remembered why it was so difficult to feel it all the time. It was excruciating. Working was difficult. Everything was. It was beautiful, but it was also painful and exhausting. I still believed that I needed it at the time, that it was expressing something important to me. I didn't despise or condemn it. I didn't feel stupid or weak. They say it takes a big man to cry, and I believe that is true — unfortunately, given our collective feelings about sadness. But it takes a stronger woman to feel the power of a sob without apology or shame. With honor. I'm the biggest I've ever been because of the way I let my emotions run wild, sadness included: the way it cleanses me, tears washing my face, resolving me to continue feeling sadness. My experience with mental health has shaped who I am today and inspired me to pursue a career in healthcare. I'd like to help others in the same way that my therapist helped me. Though many of my relationships were harmed or destroyed as a result of my journey, I'm glad I've come to terms with it and hope to continue living my life to the fullest.

I didn't feel depressed about being depressed for the first time on May 7, 2021. I was in my therapist's office. It may appear simple, but it was a trick I'd spent years honing and perfecting. Following a sexual assault immersion at school two and a half years prior, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. "She has a lot of feelings," my best friend would chuckle whenever I got worked up about something in front of strangers — and my emotions are now massive. My neighbors would complain because I yelled and stomped my feet in frustration over a failed online makeup purchase. The intensity of a pop song hits the chest like a punch, exploding any grief nestled there; Arianna Grande once made me cry. Sadness does not easily move me. However, after much retraining, I now take it very differently than I was raised to, and unlike almost everyone else I know. When I'm not sad and think about sadness, I have a startling thought: I miss it. Before therapy, the only thing I had ever been taught about sadness, both implicitly and explicitly, was that it is bad. You do not desire it. If you have it, you should try to get rid of it as soon as possible. Whatever you do, don't subject others to it because they dislike it. Culturally, we are not permitted to be sad, even for a brief moment. Even when it makes perfect sense. Even when we desperately need it. One of my closest childhood friends died in a car accident around this time. I was devastated and couldn't think or feel rationally. Both my therapist and I recognized the significance of this moment. After this incident, I didn't panic whenever something bad happened in my life, such as a breakup, and I never had that level of acceptance before. That's how I came to be in a position to miss it. Its enthralling nature. The distinction between it and other emotions. I recalled the sensations: the weight. Its ability to slow things down and take up more space than anything else. It was exquisite, objectively, but also as evidence that I was open and not closed down, capable of allowing a wide range of emotions to rush in and potentially overwhelm, but also move through and move me. I still thought I needed it at the time, that it was expressing something significant to me. They say it takes a big man to cry, and I believe that is true — unfortunately, given our collective feelings about sadness. But it takes a stronger woman to feel the power of a sob without apology or shame. With honor. I'm the biggest I've ever been because of the way I let my emotions run wild, sadness included: the way it cleanses me, tears washing my face, resolving me to continue feeling sadness. My experience with mental illnesses, I believe, has had the greatest influence on who I am today and inspired me to pursue a career in healthcare. In the same way that my therapist helped me, I'd like to help others. Though my journey harmed many of my relationships, I'm glad I've accepted it and hope to continue living my life to the fullest. Obstacles, in my opinion, are an inevitable part of any job. The biggest obstacle I may face would be sexism, as men do not seem to take women seriously when working, but I would love to prove them wrong because women are the future and some of the strongest people on the planet.

If there's one thing I've learned in my 15 years on the planet, it's that humans have accomplished a lot in the 300,000 years we've been here. We've progressed from hunting and gathering to making technological advances so significant that they can think for themselves. If you haven't already guessed, I've chosen artificial intelligence as the technology that motivates me to make the world a better place. Artificial intelligence is by far the most rapidly evolving technology in the modern world. AI initiatives in a variety of sectors, including finance, healthcare, business, marketing, security, and automation, among others. These advancements are reshaping the world and changing people's perceptions of technology. Because I am passionate about the healthcare industry and want to work in it, I will elaborate on how AI has aided the healthcare field. The healthcare industry is one of the world's most important working industries. Technology is having a significant impact in the healthcare field, and AI is currently assisting the healthcare business in a meaningful and precise manner. AI has aided in closing gaps in mental healthcare. There are numerous smartphone-based AI applications that recognize various mental health issues and provide cognitive behavioral therapy for them. AI is used to detect any symptoms of domestic abuse that individuals may be experiencing by identifying damage patterns and studying the types of fractures depicted on x-rays. Medical personnel will be able to approach the patient without fear of offending the patient's partner/spouse. AI can recognize the type of stroke a patient is having and pinpoint the location of the clotting or bleeding. This helps with detection because every second counts when someone is having a stroke. AI has also enabled real-time monitoring of brain health. The brain is one of the most complex organs in the human body, producing a large amount of complex data and being more difficult to treat. However, with the help of AI, many things are now possible, such as predicting seizures, identifying early stages of dementia, reading EEG, and so on. Though I believe that technology is not always ideal, it has been shown to help people and potentially save their lives. Technology has enabled us to evolve into something truly incredible, and it continues to do so every day. I hope to devote more time and effort to my research and to assist scientists in developing and manufacturing AI technology. Though I do not intend to make a career out of it, I would like to conduct research and use my findings to further my education and career as a surgeon.

I didn't feel depressed about being depressed for the first time on May 7, 2021. I was in my therapist's office. It may appear simple, but it was a trick I'd spent years honing and perfecting. Following a sexual assault immersion at school two and a half years prior, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. "She has a lot of feelings," my best friend would chuckle whenever I got worked up about something in front of strangers — and my emotions are now massive. My neighbors would complain because I yelled and stomped my feet in frustration over a failed online makeup purchase. The intensity of a pop song hits the chest like a punch, exploding any grief nestled there; Arianna Grande once made me cry. Sadness does not easily move me. However, after much retraining, I now take it very differently than I was raised to, and unlike almost everyone else I know. When I'm not sad and think about sadness, I have a startling thought: I miss it. Before therapy, the only thing I had ever been taught about sadness, both implicitly and explicitly, was that it is bad. You do not desire it. If you have it, you should try to get rid of it as soon as possible. Whatever you do, don't subject others to it because they dislike it. You can't keep living like that if your sadness comes from seemingly nowhere or even an obvious place but prevents you from participating in life or enjoying anything and refuses to go away no matter how long you let it express itself. But, culturally, we are not permitted to be sad, even for a brief moment. Even when it makes perfect sense. Even when we desperately need it. One of my closest childhood friends died in a car accident around this time. I was devastated and couldn't think or feel rationally. Both my therapist and I recognized the significance of this moment. After this incident, I didn't panic whenever something bad happened in my life, such as a breakup, and I never had that level of acceptance before. That's how I came to be in a position to miss it. The intriguing nature of it. The distinction between it and other emotions. I recalled the sensations: the weight. The way it slowed things down and took up more space than anything else. It was exquisite, objectively, but also as evidence that I could feel that I was open and not shut down, capable of allowing a wide range of emotions to rush in and possibly overwhelm, but also move through and move me. I still believed that I needed it at the time, that it was expressing something important to me. They say it takes a big man to cry, and I believe that is true — unfortunately, given our collective feelings about sadness. But it takes a stronger woman to feel the power of a sob without apology or shame. With honor. I'm the biggest I've ever been because of the way I let my emotions run wild, sadness included: the way it cleanses me, tears washing my face, resolving me to continue feeling sadness. My experience with mental illnesses, I believe, has had the greatest influence on who I am today and inspired me to pursue a career in healthcare. In the same way that my therapist helped me, I'd like to help others. Though my journey harmed many of my relationships, I'm glad I've accepted it and hope to continue living my life to the fullest.

For me, mental health has always been a touchy subject. I could go on and on to my friends about the various struggles that people with mental health issues face and how difficult it is to get out of bed in the morning and go to bed at night. Some people are concerned, while others have no faith in mental health at all. I started a mental health matters club at my school to spread positivity and shed light on mental health issues. In my club, we stay after school to talk. We talk to each other without any criticism or remarks. We only listen, and it has proven to be extremely beneficial. Many people have said that listening is sometimes better than talking, and I wholeheartedly agree. When it is our turn to speak, we talk about what has been bothering us, and everyone else pays close attention to the speaker. When I get to lead this amazing group of people in an amazing meeting, it is always the highlight of my week. I've begun to pay more attention to what others have to say than I previously did. I communicate with everyone I know. I ask family, friends, and peers how they're doing and listen carefully to their responses. If they show signs of being depressed or stressed, I inform them that there are resources available to assist them. I always talk about my experiences with my club and am very open about what I have been through. I find that sharing helps me to stay calm and relaxed by reminding me that others have had similar experiences to mine and that I am not alone. I've realized that physical health is inextricably linked to mental health, so I encouraged my club members to take care of themselves because their physical health has a significant impact on their mental health. Eating well, getting enough exercise, and sleeping well all contribute to a person's mental and emotional well-being. Since establishing the club, I've begun to educate myself on mental illness. People frequently have misconceptions about mental illness. I learned more about it and shared what I discovered. This included discussing mental health with children in age-appropriate terms. Children are not immune to mental illness, and they can develop symptoms such as depression and anxiety as early as elementary school. I've started volunteering at local mental health organizations. It helped me realize that I wanted to be a doctor so that I could help people recover and return to their normal lives. I see doctors every day at the mental health organization, and they really motivate me. I've realized that, like it or not, stress is a part of life. I advise my members and myself to practice good coping skills such as exercise, taking a nature walk, playing with a pet, or trying journaling as a stress reliever. I've tried meditating and praying. Relaxation exercises and prayer can help improve people’s moods and outlooks on life. Indeed, studies show that meditation can help people feel calmer and improve the effects of therapy. My main motivation for starting my club was to help my peers communicate instead of turning to drugs and alcohol. Alcohol and other drugs are sometimes used to "self-medicate," but in reality, they only exacerbate problems. This club, volunteering, and all of the resources available have really helped me open up about my past and keep my mental illnesses under control. I'm grateful for all of the organizations and people who are available to talk with and relate to.

On May 7, 2021, I didn't feel sad about feeling sad for the first time. I was in the office of my therapist. It may appear simple, but it was a trick I'd spent years practicing and attempting to master. I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder two and a half years ago, following a sexual assault immersion at school. I've always been an emotional person — "She has a lot of feelings," my best friend would chuckle when I got worked up about something or other in front of strangers — and my emotions are now massive. Frustration over a failed online makeup purchase results in so much yelling and foot-stomping that my neighbors complain. The intensity of a pop song lands like a punch to the chest, exploding any grief nestled there; Arianna Grande made me cry once. Sincerely: I am not easily moved by sadness. But, after a lot of retraining, I take it completely differently than I was raised to, and unlike almost everyone else I know. Now, when I'm not sad and think about sadness, it's accompanied by a startling thought: I miss it. Before therapy, this was the only thing I was ever taught about sadness, both implicitly and explicitly: it is bad. You do not desire it. If you have it, you should try to get rid of it as soon as possible. Whatever you do, don't subject others to it because they dislike it. To be sure, sadness can be legitimately problematic. You can't keep living like that if your sadness comes from seemingly nowhere or even an obvious place but prevents you from participating in life or enjoying anything and refuses to go away no matter how long you let it express itself. But, culturally, we are not permitted to be sad, even for a brief moment. Even when it makes perfect sense. Even when we desperately need it. I cried from uncontrollable, overwhelming, life-sucking sadness at times. And the sadness and crying itself freaked me out. I'd start crying and then immediately despise myself. What was I crying about? Why couldn't I get this sadness to leave me alone? What was the matter with me? I went to therapy. I'd been there before, casually and infrequently. It was now a therapy emergency. I thought I was pretty good at self-care in general, but I let it slip when I got too busy, when school was too demanding, or when I had to do things I knew I was getting too tired to do but did anyway. But taking care of myself was no longer an option. I had to make as much room for it as it required for survival. One of my closest childhood friends died in a car accident around this time. I was devastated and couldn't think or feel rationally. "How are you feeling?" my therapist inquired. "It's a shame," I said. Because of everything that had happened that day, I was especially sad. "I'm sad because one of my friends died." I was in tears as I described this. They were fantastic. My therapist understood because someone close to me had died, but when I started crying over minor inconveniences, she became concerned. If my favorite song came on the radio or I watched my favorite movie, I would cry. In retrospect, it was a little ridiculous. My therapist was composed. She told me to open my eyes and then asked what sensations I felt. I immediately imagined a child playing soccer. That's me right now, I reasoned. A child acting like a child and feeling sad about it—but not sad about feeling sad. That's all there was to it. It was all right. It was a moment of calm. I, or a child, being exactly what she was: alive. The significance of this moment was obvious to both of us. I hadn't panicked every time something sad happened in my life, like a breakup, but I'd never had that level of acceptance. And, as a person suffering from PTSD, I had completely lost trust in my own emotions, constantly fearing them, sadness included — or perhaps especially, because it was the most persistent. I was finally accepting it. That's how I came to be in a position to miss it. The intriguing nature of it. The distinction between it and other emotions. I recalled the sensations: the weight. The way it slowed things down and took up more space than anything else. It was exquisite, objectively, but also as evidence that I could feel that I was open and not shut down, capable of allowing a wide range of emotions to rush in and possibly overwhelm, but also move through and move me. The next time I felt sad after missing it, I remembered why it was so difficult to feel it all the time. It was excruciating. Working was difficult. Everything was. It was beautiful, but it was also painful and exhausting. I still believed that I needed it at the time, that it was expressing something important to me. I didn't despise or condemn it. I didn't feel stupid or weak. They say it takes a big man to cry, and I believe that is true — unfortunately, given our collective feelings about sadness. But it takes a stronger woman to feel the power of a sob without apology or shame. With honor. I'm the biggest I've ever been because of the way I let my emotions run wild, sadness included: the way it cleanses me, tears washing my face, resolving me to continue feeling sadness. My experience with mental health has shaped who I am today and inspired me to pursue a career in healthcare. I'd like to help others in the same way that my therapist helped me. Though many of my relationships were harmed or destroyed as a result of my journey, I'm glad I've come to terms with it and hope to continue living my life to the fullest.

Climate change has always been a sensitive subject for me. I could go on and on about how various companies and individuals refuse to listen to scientists when they say climate change will have a significant impact on the world in the coming years, but they always respond with the same thing: "Climate change isn't real," or "Scientists are liars." To counteract some of these remarks and gain the support of my peers, I founded a climate change club at my school that emphasizes positivity. We go out after school for a couple of hours and talk to teachers and staff at the school to find out what their thoughts are on the matter. If they are willing to listen, we explain how they can change small habits and drastically reduce the amount of waste produced in their household. Unplugging unused appliances, gardening and planting plants, reusing plastic bottles for other purposes, voting, walking or biking to locations if possible, exploring and appreciating nature are just a few of the changes that can change people's perspectives on nature and help them realize how much unnecessary pollution the human race causes. After making the switch and assisting my peers in making the switch, I realized how beautiful change can be. My long-term goals are to work with Keep Sevier Beautiful, a local environmental protection organization, to help keep the environment around us beautiful. I live near the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, a popular tourist destination, and I'd like to help keep it beautiful by picking up trash, planting more trees, and talking with park rangers about climate change issues and how we can all help change that as a community.

Life is complicated. I'm sure many people will agree with me. It can be messy, cruel, and unfair at times. It only takes a split second for your life to fall apart. All it takes is that one split second. A few years ago, a close friend of mine was killed in a car accident. While driving, their parents hit an animal, swerved, and crashed into a tree. We'd been friends for eight years, having attended elementary and middle school together. They died at the age of fifteen. They were young and optimistic about their future. They had been depressed for a long time, but they were in a very good place in their lives at the time of their death. They were doing better in school, and their mental health had improved significantly since starting antidepressants. So it made me wonder: if I left tomorrow, would I be happy where I am? I wasn't, and as a result, I began to make significant changes in my life. I was dissatisfied with my grades in middle school and decided to work harder in high school to maintain them, and it paid off. My friends were always trying to persuade me to join them in their various extracurricular activities. I regret not doing it when they were alive, but I've recently begun participating in their extracurriculars. I've been visiting my friend's grandparents, who were devastated after losing both their grandchild and their son in the accident. I've always maintained a close relationship with their family and intend to do so in the future. I also stopped worrying about trivial matters. It's not worth it. I tell my family and friends that I love them a lot more than I used to. And I ALWAYS obey the posted traffic laws and signs.

If there's one thing I've learned in my 15 years on the planet, it's that humans have accomplished a lot in the 300,000 years we've been here. We've progressed from hunting and gathering to making technological advances so significant that they can think for themselves. If you haven't already guessed, I've chosen artificial intelligence as the technology that motivates me to make the world a better place. Artificial intelligence is by far the most rapidly evolving technology in the modern world. AI initiatives in a variety of sectors, including finance, healthcare, business, marketing, security, and automation, among others. These advancements are reshaping the world and changing people's perceptions of technology. Because I am passionate about the healthcare industry and want to work in it, I will elaborate on how AI has aided the healthcare field. The healthcare industry is one of the world's most important working industries. Technology is having a significant impact in the healthcare field, and AI is currently assisting the healthcare business in a meaningful and precise manner. AI has aided in closing gaps in mental healthcare. There are numerous smartphone-based AI applications that recognize various mental health issues and provide cognitive behavioral therapy for them. AI is used to detect any symptoms of domestic abuse that individuals may be experiencing by identifying damage patterns and studying the types of fractures depicted on x-rays. Medical personnel will be able to approach the patient without fear of offending the patient's partner/spouse. AI can recognize the type of stroke a patient is having and pinpoint the location of the clotting or bleeding. This helps with detection because every second counts when someone is having a stroke. AI has also enabled real-time monitoring of brain health. The brain is one of the most complex organs in the human body, producing a large amount of complex data and being more difficult to treat. However, with the help of AI, many things are now possible, such as predicting seizures, identifying early stages of dementia, reading EEG, and so on. Though I believe that technology is not always ideal, it has been shown to help people and potentially save their lives. Technology has enabled us to evolve into something truly incredible, and it continues to do so every day.

Climate change has always been a sensitive subject for me. I could go on and on about how various companies and individuals refuse to listen to scientists when they say climate change will have a significant impact on the world in the coming years, but they always respond with the same thing: "Climate change isn't real," or "Scientists are liars." To counteract some of these remarks and gain the support of my peers, I founded a climate change club at my school that emphasizes positivity. We go out after school for a couple of hours and talk to teachers and staff at the school to find out what their thoughts are on the matter. If they are willing to listen, we explain how they can change small habits and drastically reduce the amount of waste produced in their household. Unplugging unused appliances, gardening and planting plants, reusing plastic bottles for other purposes, voting, walking or biking to locations if possible, exploring and appreciating nature are just a few of the changes that can change people's perspectives on nature and help them realize how much unnecessary pollution the human race causes. After making the switch and assisting my peers in making the switch, I realized how beautiful change can be. My long-term goals are to work with Keep Sevier Beautiful, a local environmental protection organization, to help keep the environment around us beautiful. I live near the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, a popular tourist destination, and I'd like to help keep it beautiful by picking up trash, planting more trees, and talking with park rangers about climate change issues and how we can all help change that as a community.