"Tavern-keeper, should not my cheeks be emaciated? Should my heart not be wretched, my features not haggard? Should there not be sadness deep within me! Should I not look like one who has been traveling a long distance, and should ice and heat not have seared my face!..., should I not roam the wilderness? My friend, the wild ass who chased the wild donkey, panther of the wilderness, Enkidu, the wild ass who chased the wild donkey, panther of the wilderness, we joined together, and went up into the mountain. We grappled with and killed the Bull of Heaven, we destroyed Humbaba who lived in the Cedar Forest, we slew lions in the mountain passes! My friend, whom I love deeply, who went through every hard-ship with me, Enkidu, whom I love deeply, who went through every hardship with me, the fate of mankind has overtaken him." - The Epic of Gilgamesh This excerpt from the Epic of Gilgamesh captures the raw grief and existential dread of someone grappling with a loss that feels bigger than the world. When Gilgamesh mourns the death of his closest friend, Enkidu, he’s not just talking about sorrow—he’s wrestling with what it means to be human. The text dives into questions that hit everyone at some point: How do we deal with the fact that we’re all going to die? And, knowing that, how do we make life meaningful? These aren’t easy questions, and they don’t come with easy answers. What makes this passage so powerful is how it pushes us to sit with those questions and feel the weight of them. Gilgamesh’s grief is written all over him—literally. His “haggard features” and “wretched heart” show the toll Enkidu’s death has taken, but they’re also symbols of something deeper. His sadness isn’t just personal. It’s a confrontation with the harsh truth that no one, not even a great hero, can escape death. This is a turning point for him. All the epic battles and legendary victories that once made him feel untouchable now seem hollow because they couldn’t save Enkidu. His friend’s death forces him to see that no matter how much we accomplish, we’re all going to end up the same way. The writer uses this to strip away the illusion of invincibility, reminding us that mortality is the great equalizer. What really drives this passage home is the repetition of Enkidu’s name and the way Gilgamesh talks about him. Calling him “my friend, whom I love deeply” again and again isn’t just a sign of grief—it’s a way of clinging to what’s left. Their bond was built on shared struggles and victories, and losing Enkidu feels like losing a piece of himself. This part hit me because it highlights something so true about relationships: they’re what make life meaningful, but they’re also what make life hard. When we lose the people we love, it leaves a hole that nothing else can really fill. The writer is tapping into something universal here—this idea that we’re defined by the connections we have with others, even though those connections make us vulnerable to pain. The wilderness imagery in this passage also hits hard. As Gilgamesh roams the wild, it’s like the world around him reflects his internal chaos. The wilderness is harsh, unpredictable, and lonely—just like the way he feels inside. When he talks about ice and heat searing his face, it’s a reminder that the world moves on, no matter how much he’s hurting. But the wilderness isn’t just a symbol of grief; it’s also a place of transformation. It’s where Gilgamesh is forced to confront the questions he’s been avoiding and start figuring out what kind of person he wants to be. In a way, the wilderness is something we all have to go through at some point—a space where we feel lost but also learn who we are. Another thing that stands out is how Gilgamesh reflects on his past accomplishments. Slaying Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven were incredible feats, but in the face of death, they feel small. This is such a powerful contrast. It’s like the writer is saying that no matter how much we achieve, it doesn’t really matter if we don’t figure out what makes life meaningful. For Gilgamesh, this realization is a wake-up call. His old way of thinking—chasing glory and defying the odds—can’t protect him from the inevitability of death. It’s a tough lesson, but it’s one that forces him to grow. The writer uses this moment to challenge the reader, too. What are we chasing, and is it really what matters? What I love about this passage is how timeless it feels. Even though it’s from an ancient text, the emotions and questions it raises are still so relevant. Everyone, at some point, has to deal with loss and the fear of mortality. That’s what makes this story so human. It’s not about the gods or the epic battles—it’s about the things we all feel and go through. For me, it’s a reminder to think about what I want my life to mean and to focus on the things that truly matter, like the relationships I have with the people around me. Reading this also made me think about my own experiences with loss and change. When I work with first-year college students as a resident assistant, I see how disorienting it can be for them to leave behind the lives they knew and figure out where they belong. In some ways, they’re going through their own wilderness, trying to make sense of a world that suddenly feels unfamiliar. What I’ve learned from supporting them is that having someone to guide you—someone who cares—can make all the difference. That’s what Gilgamesh and Enkidu were for each other, and it’s why their relationship is so central to the story. At its heart, the Epic of Gilgamesh is about the tension between the inevitability of death and the search for meaning in life. Through Gilgamesh’s grief, the writer captures the rawness of losing someone you love, but they also show how those moments of loss can push us to grow. It’s a story about transformation—about learning to let go of the things that don’t matter and hold on to the things that do. For Gilgamesh, that means moving beyond the pursuit of glory to seek wisdom and connection. For the rest of us, it’s a reminder to live with intention and to value the people and experiences that make life worth living. This excerpt might be ancient, but it feels alive with the kind of questions we all wrestle with. It doesn’t give easy answers, but that’s part of what makes it so powerful. It forces us to sit with the hard stuff and figure out for ourselves what kind of legacy we want to leave behind.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” - Nelson Mandela. For the longest time, I have wanted to better society for future generations. I knew it when I was pulled out of my first grade class with three other kids to discuss forensic science, when I sat outside my fourth grade mathematics class with a copy of “Algebra for Dummies,” and when I stood on my auditorium stage having just won the district spelling bee. Above all else, I define myself as a person with extreme intellectual curiosity. I’ll stay up all night researching anything from finance to politics simply because I feel like I must obtain as much knowledge as possible. Education has fostered this love of learning and led me on the course of achieving greatness from a young age. My fifth grade English teacher encouraged me to join the creative writing club and would regularly critique my pieces as if they were published. As of November 2020, I became a published writer with my short story, “Brown and Black.” My middle school debate teacher stressed the importance of critical research skills and argumentation. I held the Varsity Debate Captain at my high school, hosting practices to teach my classmates how to respectfully and passionately champion policy solutions to issues in our world today. My elementary school advanced mathematics teacher suggested that my capabilities were higher than the current curriculum, giving worksheets to determine my current skills. Because that teacher believed in me, I took AP Calculus AB as a sophomore. Not only that, but I passed the course at fifteen. I would have never made it to that point had I not had educators who wanted the best for me. My professional goals rely upon continuing the amazing education I’ve been lucky to receive so far. My passion is understanding what’s going on around me. I love seeing how people behave around others compared to by themselves. I love the psychology behind political science. I love to observe the nuances behind different cultures' ethical codes, and to understand various approaches towards urban planning. I take deep interest in how humans affect the environment and vice versa. I feel like there’s so much out there in the world that many humans choose to not notice, and there’s a certain beauty in slowing down to assess & appreciate the complexities of life. This passion in understanding human behavior directly correlates with the future career I wish to have. My goal is to major in finance on a pre-law professional track, go onto law school, and become a policymaker. I want to create programs that best serve my fellow Americans, and doing so requires taking the time to grasp others’ perspectives. I find joy in discourse because whether it be me writing speeches on Ethiopian Sanctions or friends discussing their experiences with social inequities, the spread of information aids us in realizing that there’s societal problems that need to be fixed. During college, I aim to gain expertise in political science or public policy, knowledge that will catapult me towards positions in supranational organizations like the United Nations. To change the world, I know that I must further my education by getting a college degree.

My brother Colby turned eleven in May. Friends describe Colby as being sweet, funny, and energetic; he’ll stop at nothing to make someone giggle, even if that means constantly repeating a joke from five years ago. He’s also on the autism spectrum, with a special-needs classroom curriculum. Colby is taken out of his regular classes for occupational therapy, which takes him away from his fellow classmates each week. Colby's classmates see him as "different" for needing additional support, and actively ignore him during conversations; possessing a developmental disability doesn't define a person. Autism shouldn't compromise Colby's ability to make friends. We must eliminate the stigma associated with individualized education plans. Theoretically, IEPs are a viable and clever solution to adjust programs for all students. An individualized program, tailored to any child’s needs, seems like the perfect way to ensure that that someone you care about is being properly taught in school. However, there are dangerous consequences to social development. It’s unfair to be separated from classes because labels and ostracizing only grow. A natural rift between those in standard classes versus students leaving for therapy follows the idea of Otherness. Otherness, as stated by sociologist Deborah Lupton, is a natural fear against those who aren’t as privileged as the majority of people. Those considered “Other” are therefore treated differently throughout society. “Such groups may be constructed as posing a risk to the dominant group through behaviour that is deemed to be too ‘different’ or potentially polluting and therefore confronting. For marginalised groups, constructed by dominant groups as the Other, requiring regulation or exclusion or both, this domination of space leads in turn to feelings of enhanced fear and anxiety, of being ‘at risk’ of intimidation, violence or coercion.” Although the notion of “the Other” is a problem throughout humankind, IEPs only contribute in further separation between children with disabilities and their classmates. Separating children from their peers leads to social anxiety, along with an inability to function in group-oriented careers and creates a hostile learning environment for all children. Apart from the already large percentage of kids with disabilities in the USA, this indirect separation of peers negatively affects ALL students in our country by making us immoral and exclusive. Possibly even more important is the notion that we’re training tomorrow’s adults into believing that it’s accepted to categorize people with disabilities as “the Other,” starting a chain reaction that will lead to many generations in the future unintentionally hurting innocent people. Change the ideology by eliminating harmful stigmas around educational tools; IEPs are nothing more than a tool, and society needs to stop using these tools to categorize the people behind them.

I'm no stranger to stressors causing steady streams of thoughts racing through my mind. Simply walking to my next class would instantaneously turn to furrowed eyebrows, nervous twitches, and staring at the floor with every step. The worst part? At 17, I'm one of many teens in America currently struggling with anxiety. In 2021, the National Institute of Mental Health reported that 31.9% of United States teens have some type of anxiety disorder. There's no true 'solution' to anxiety, but one of the key factors in reducing my symptoms has been togetherness. When a Hope Squad chapter began at my school, I questioned the efficacy of a club in improving mental health. I quickly learned that my fellow students were not only trained to provide outlets for their peers, but they took pride in becoming everyone's friend. Conversations from these students were reassuring and comforting; I learned that more people were in my corner than just my close friends/family. Unfortunately, not everyone has the resources in their community to rely on such programs. However, the lesson I've acquired from this experience has been the importance of communication. The most practical solution for helping those who struggle with mental health is reaching out. This can be as simple as checking in with acquaintances on social media or inviting a friend to chat over coffee. Humans are social creatures; while connection isn't the ultimate solution for all mental health struggles, reminding someone that they don't have to internalize their thoughts is one of the best things you can do as a loved one.

"No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks." - Mary Shelley. Too many times, whilst pursuing superficial happiness, humans have unintentionally harmed others. Our world's greatest curse? Selfishness. Take "charitable" corporations, for example. Intrinsic motivation for charity is wanting to make a difference; extrinsic motivation often relies on the idea that boosted public image = more sales = higher profit. Here's how some corporations end up hurting the community: As of this year, one in seven Americans lives under the poverty threshold. One in seven Americans can’t afford a home, food, or clothes; without these resources, the likelihood of obtaining employment is lessened, and escaping poverty becomes insurmountable. Therefore, the cycle of poverty mechanisms traps entire communities. Outside intervention is necessary to break this cycle; social welfare and nonprofit corporations are the most common agencies assisting the impoverished in the United States. However, a multitude of 501(c)(3) companies exempted from federal tax income donate just ⅛ of their profits to charity. Goodwill Industries, for example, claims to allocate profits towards hiring disabled workers, but abuses Section 14(c) Subminimum Wage Certificate Program of the Fair Labor Standards Act (1938) to pay these workers as low as $0.22/hour. Currently, over 420,000 Americans with disabilities are paid under minimum wage for full-time jobs. Alleviating this exploitation of the underprivileged is necessary because individuals are becoming trapped by the very organizations claiming to assist them. How do we solve this evil? The answer is simple: we must eliminate the opportunity for us to take advantage of others. We, as citizens, have the power to prioritize policy amendments. Reaching out to local representatives and explaining dangerous loopholes in code, such as the Fair Labor Standards Act, is the first step to lasting change.

To See the Stars by Cynthia Mercati. I was cast as the lead, Anya Rosen, during my freshman year of high school. This was the first time I stepped on stage as a principal role, and I had had intense stage fright beforehand. Two months of rehearsals with the most supporting director and cast (they're my friends to this day) helped me overcome my fears and put on an amazing show. I developed my love for theatre and performance arts on this set!

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” - Nelson Mandela. For the longest time, I have wanted to better society for future generations. I knew it when I was pulled out of my first grade class with three other kids to discuss forensic science, when I sat outside my fourth grade math class with a copy of “Algebra for Dummies,” and when I stood on my auditorium stage having just won the district spelling bee. Above all else, I define myself as a person with extreme intellectual curiosity. I’ll stay up all night researching anything from finance to politics simply because I feel like I must obtain as much knowledge as possible. Education has fostered this love of learning and led me on the course of achieving greatness from a young age. My fifth grade English teacher encouraged me to join the creative writing club and would regularly critique my pieces as if they were published. As of November 2020, I became a published writer with my short story, “Brown and Black.” My middle school debate teacher stressed the importance of critical research skills and argumentation. I am now the Varsity Debate Captain at my high school, holding practices to teach my classmates how to respectfully and passionately champion policy solutions to issues in our world today. My elementary school advanced mathematics teacher suggested that my capabilities were higher than the current curriculum, giving worksheets to determine my current skills. Because that teacher believed in me, I took AP Calculus AB as a sophomore. Not only that, but I passed the course at fifteen. I would have never made it to that point had I not had educators who wanted the best for me. But I know that there’s so much more I want to do in my life. I aim to gain expertise in political science or public policy, knowledge that will catapult me towards positions in supranational organizations like the United Nations. My initiatives will be to increase water resources and sanitization worldwide, eradicate poverty, and institute laws securing gender equality. To change the world, I know that I must further my education by getting a college degree.