From my earliest days as a baby, my parents had me listening to the music they grew up on. They had me wearing KISS onesies, Ramones shirts, and would constantly quiz me on who was singing on the radio when we were in the car. I knew Stayin’ Alive before I learned the National Anthem. Music has been a therapeutic salvage for me in times of struggle and distress. I grew up in a quaint New England town immersed in various artistic pursuits, including dance, theater, and music. However, it was the world of film that captured my heart as I matured. At the age of 14, I took a bold step and auditioned for Walnut School for the Arts in Massachusetts, a prestigious private boarding school renowned for its exclusive focus on the performing arts. The backing track for my compelling performance reel was set to the iconic "Tiny Dancer." Despite being accepted into their Musical Theater major, my dreams were temporarily deferred due to financial constraints. Undeterred, I forged ahead, and today, as a sophomore at Emerson College, I am passionately pursuing my studies in Theatre & Performance, complemented by a double minor in Pre-Law and Dance. To be candid, Emerson College is not a cheap school, topping the charts as the nation's most financially challenging institution. Over the past five years, my life has been marked by the harrowing experience of enduring relentless domestic abuse at the hands of my alcoholic father, which tragically extended to financial exploitation. Amidst the tumult of my parent's divorce, my father callously made it clear on multiple occasions that he would not contribute financially to my educational aspirations. While I remain profoundly appreciative of the aid I've received, my mother and I are scraping together meager amounts to fulfill our financial obligations to the school, navigating the tumultuous waters of financial strain with resilience and determination. Let's rewind to the summer of 2019—a pivotal chapter in my musical awakening. While I had always been aware of Elton John, my musical affections were more inclined towards ABBA, The Beatles, and the Bee Gees. That transformative summer found me in Massachusetts. Amidst reconnecting with my mom’s old friends, a particular acquaintance insisted we watch the newly released movie Rocketman. Initially unenthused, I emerged a reborn girl. All the things I knew were masterfully interwoven into a cinematic tapestry, bringing to life the music of the '70s against a backdrop of addiction, abuse, struggle, and self-discovery—all portrayed in vivid colors and captivating costumes. His music became my anthem, a soundtrack to my identity. I would rave about his music to anyone who would listen. My mom and I even formed a daily ritual, duetting to "Don’t Go Breaking My Heart" on our way to school. Yet, the profound sentimentality I hold for Elton John's song "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" goes beyond mere admiration. For years up until very recently, I found myself shackled to the emotional railroad tracks of my parents' tumultuous divorce. The relentless drama and the lingering trauma of my father's behavior seemed inescapable. Then, like a guiding anthem, Elton's words resonated: "You know you can’t hold me forever. I didn’t sign up with you." The realization struck—no child wishes for their parent's separation, and I am not destined to be entangled in the web of their discord. I refuse to be captive to their messiness. My life doesn't have to be defined by their struggles. It's time for me to seize control and declare that my future extends far beyond the confines of this yellow brick road.

Navigating the intricate relationship between my mental health, academic performance, and personal life has been a challenging journey. Initially, I believed that my mental well-being had no bearing on my academics, as I fervently dedicated myself to maintaining a facade of normalcy. However, I now recognize that this approach led to a detrimental neglect of my mental health. In the pursuit of academic success, I subconsciously relegated my mental well-being to the background, convincing myself that good grades would inherently translate to improved mental health. The correlation between academic achievement and financial aid fueled this mindset, creating a cycle where my grades became the focal point, often at the expense of my mental equilibrium. It required a conscious effort to pause and acknowledge that my mental health deserved its dedicated attention. Unbeknownst to those around me, I grapple with the lingering effects of my father's domestic and financial abuse, abandonment, and a past suicide attempt. While at school, the chaos of academic life provides a convenient distraction, allowing me to momentarily forget or ignore the unresolved issues plaguing my mental health. Yet, upon returning home, the stark reality of my tumultuous familial circumstances forcefully resurfaces. Taking steps to prioritize my mental health involves recognizing when I am teetering on the edge of a depressive episode. In such moments, I proactively distance myself from triggering situations, not only for my benefit but also to shield those around me from the cascade of negativity that could ensue. It is a delicate dance, attempting to navigate the fine line between self-preservation and maintaining relationships. I've come to understand the significance of sleep in preserving my mental well-being. The phrase "sleeping on things" has become a guiding principle, allowing me to approach challenges with a refreshed perspective. A good night's sleep serves as a reset button, clearing the mental clutter accumulated throughout the day and providing a clean slate to face new challenges. Acknowledging the generational disparity in attitudes toward mental health within my family, particularly with my mom belonging to Gen X, I have taken the initiative to bridge this gap. Engaging in open conversations about mental health, I strive to convey the unique intricacies of my mental landscape. It is a deliberate effort to break down the stigma surrounding mental health issues and foster a deeper understanding of its importance. Sharing the nuances of my mental health journey with my loved ones has proven to be a powerful strategy. While I may not always comprehend the intricacies of my mind, articulating my experiences to those who care about me cultivates a support system that plays a pivotal role in my mental well-being. In this process, I emphasize the individualized nature of mental health, emphasizing that there is no one-size-fits-all approach. My academic endeavors and personal life intricately intertwine with my mental well-being. Understanding that achieving a balanced harmony among these aspects demands deliberate actions, I've embraced proactive measures. I prioritize rejuvenating sleep, distance myself from potential stressors, and engage in open discussions with my close friends and family. The goal is to establish a comprehensive approach that preserves my mental health while not jeopardizing my academic aspirations. This is an ongoing process, necessitating resilience, introspection, and a steadfast dedication to prioritizing mental well-being in a world that frequently asks for sacrifices.

When I initially read this question I thought I would be writing about my mother. She’s strong and has always put me before herself. But after further thought I figured many applicants must be writing about their mothers or relatives, so I sought a new perspective. Over this past winter break, I went to Connecticut to visit family and friends and took a day trip to New York City. My mom’s childhood best friend, Josh, lives in Manhattan with his wife and son. His wife’s name is Susan and though I’m not directly related to her, I call her Aunt Susie. It is with great pleasure and excitement that I get to share one of my many stories with Susie. Susie has been in my life from the minute I was born and has since acted as a beacon of hope, wisdom, and adventure in everything I do. In my younger years my family would travel to New York to visit them a lot and without fail, every single minute spent alone with Susie felt like an adventure to me. I remember leaving their home one summer and telling my mom I hated leaving New York because I always go on an adventure when I’m with Susie. Susie’s personality is a lot less linear than my mom’s so the contrast between them is like a yin and yang for me. Over the last five years, my personal life has taken a turn for the worse with a combination of alcoholism, domestic abuse, infidelity, depression, and my father abandoning my family completely. Josh and Susie have been watching from the sidelines always looking to support my mom and me when they can. This most recent trip to New York turned into a day trip around the city with just Susie and me. Something about Susie is she never really stops moving. She’s so familiar with New York City’s grid that instead of waiting for a walk sign to turn, she’ll just have us turn down another street so we never wait. We’re always on a new quest. We walked into random stores just because they looked interesting and we didn’t have a care in the world. Susie’s the type of person to ask you what you want to be when you grow up and somehow remember every answer you give her. I explained to her that there are so many things I want to do and try. I’m applying for internships in vastly different areas of interest from each other. And Susie, true to character, supported all of it. “Just be the best version of yourself you can be. There are no rules” she said. In her continuous reminders, she hones the belief that the journey of life is diverse and dynamic, emphasizing that each individual is presented with a myriad of possibilities rather than a singular predetermined path. Her encouragement extends beyond the confines of conventional expectations, advocating for the exploration of various avenues and embracing the uniqueness of personal experiences. Through her words, she instills the idea that the pursuit of fulfillment involves navigating through numerous opportunities, fostering a mindset that values adaptability and resilience in the face of life's uncertainties. After she dropped me off at the train back to Connecticut, I received two more messages from her: “Try not to get sucked into your parents' messy divorce. Create a new world.” And create a new world, I will.

Hi all, my name is Elizabeth and I’m a Theatre and Performance major at Emerson College with two minors in dance and pre-law. These are all things you can find in my bio, but I figured I'd start with the basics. I’ve been a performer since I was four, starting with dance classes. For any reviewers who did theater, I’m a dancer first. The performing arts are incredibly competitive, as are most things. But when it comes to dance there are many cards at play. Allow me to explain. I started dancing like most young girls do with ballet. I believe most dancers cannot escape their bodily image. If you have a stomach, suck it in. If you have a noticeable butt, there’s a specific tactic to tucking that under too! Now I’m a fairly petite girl standing at 5’0” and I weigh a normal amount for my age and height. For whatever reason, anytime I would look in the mirror and see my torso, specifically where my uterus sits, I would feel very insecure. I’m not overweight, I literally just have organs in my body that are meant to be there. My weight became my biggest insecurity and during 2021 I unknowingly began limiting what I ate. I would stay up very late in order to sleep in late, thus causing me to miss meals. In my mind it wasn’t like I was intentionally skipping those meals, I was just sleeping through them. My bodily image is still something I struggle with today, and something I continue to grapple with is the fact that just because there’s skin on my bones, it doesn’t make me unhealthy. Your prompt asks about my experience with mental health so here’s the big kahuna. In my family, the discourse surrounding emotions and mental health wasn't merely a casual conversation; it was a fundamental aspect of our household culture, actively encouraged by my parents. They meticulously crafted an environment that embraced vulnerability and delicate emotions. My dad was diagnosed with depression and comes from a family of alcoholics with addiction in their genes. Starting in 2017, his relationship with alcohol became much more important than his relationship with family. As the foundation of my parents' relationship crumbled and my father's domestic abuse escalated, this last summer, I took an attempt on my life by taking all of my antidepressants at once. As a high-functioning student with an unwavering drive and ambition, my mental health has frequently eluded scrutiny, both by educational institutions and, at times, by my parents. The values instilled in me—holding my head high, making eye contact, delivering a firm handshake, and exuding graciousness—became a mask behind which I concealed my inner turmoil. While these are conventional standards in child-rearing, the loneliness of my struggle intensified because I was an adept actress, concealing the pain beneath the veneer of success. It is imperative that the mental health industry broaden its scope to encompass individuals of all backgrounds, not merely those visibly grappling with adversity. Advocacy for mental health education should begin in elementary school, mirroring the importance placed on physical education. Understanding and embracing vulnerability should be integral components of a comprehensive education, fostering an environment where acknowledging and navigating the spectrum of emotions is not just encouraged but celebrated. It's time for society to recognize that everyone, regardless of their outward appearance, is contending with pain. Mental health education is not a luxury but a necessity, an investment in a future where vulnerability is met with understanding and compassion.

In my family, the discourse surrounding emotions and mental health wasn't merely a casual conversation; it was a fundamental aspect of our household culture, actively encouraged by my parents. They meticulously crafted an environment that embraced vulnerability and delicate emotions. However, as the foundation of my parents' relationship crumbled and my father's domestic abuse escalated, this last summer, I took an attempt on my life by taking all of my antidepressants at once. In that haunting moment, I sought refuge in my mother's room, baring my soul to her in a raw and desperate plea for salvation. The memory of that night is etched into my consciousness, an indelible mark of vulnerability and despair. It's a memory I wish I could erase, yet paradoxically, a part of me is grateful for its permanence. In the wake of this cataclysmic event, I've been granted months for introspection, an ongoing odyssey through the labyrinth of my mental health. Navigating relationships has become a trepidatious journey, as I grapple with the fear of exposing the intricate web of my emotions to others. The specter of my suicide attempt looms large, casting shadows on my interactions, and I find myself hesitating to share the depths of my struggles. There is a pervasive concern that my disclosure may be met with aversion or perceived as a burdensome narrative—a potential pity party or an imposition on someone else's sense of responsibility. Yet, in the crucible of these anxieties, a profound resolve emerges. I am propelled by a fervent desire to leverage my professional trajectory as a platform to amplify the discourse on mental health. Within this landscape, an often overlooked demographic is the high-functioning students—those who excel academically, immerse themselves in extracurricular pursuits, and present a façade of unyielding strength in public. My personal narrative bears witness to the detrimental consequences of this oversight. As a high-functioning student with an unwavering drive and ambition, my mental health has frequently eluded scrutiny, both by educational institutions and, at times, by my parents. The values instilled in me—holding my head high, making eye contact, delivering a firm handshake, and exuding graciousness—became a mask behind which I concealed my inner turmoil. While these are conventional standards in child-rearing, the loneliness of my struggle intensified because I was an adept actress, concealing the pain beneath the veneer of success. It is imperative that the mental health industry broaden its scope to encompass individuals of all backgrounds, not merely those visibly grappling with adversity. The narrative must transcend the stereotypes and extend its embrace to high-functioning individuals who silently battle their demons. Advocacy for mental health education should begin in elementary school, mirroring the importance placed on physical education. Understanding and embracing vulnerability should be integral components of a comprehensive education, fostering an environment where acknowledging and navigating the spectrum of emotions is not just encouraged but celebrated. It's time for society to recognize that everyone, regardless of their outward appearance, is contending with pain. Mental health education is not a luxury but a necessity, an investment in a future where vulnerability is met with understanding and compassion.

In my family, the discourse surrounding emotions and mental health wasn't merely a casual conversation; it was a fundamental aspect of our household culture, actively encouraged by my parents. They meticulously crafted an environment that embraced vulnerability and delicate emotions. However, as the foundation of my parents' relationship crumbled and my father's domestic abuse escalated, this last summer, I took an attempt on my life by taking all of my antidepressants at once. In that haunting moment, I sought refuge in my mother's room, baring my soul to her in a raw and desperate plea for salvation. The memory of that night is etched into my consciousness, an indelible mark of vulnerability and despair. It's a memory I wish I could erase, yet paradoxically, a part of me is grateful for its permanence. In the wake of this cataclysmic event, I've been granted months for introspection, an ongoing odyssey through the labyrinth of my mental health. Navigating relationships has become a trepidatious journey, as I grapple with the fear of exposing the intricate web of my emotions to others. The specter of my suicide attempt looms large, casting shadows on my interactions, and I find myself hesitating to share the depths of my struggles. There is a pervasive concern that my disclosure may be met with aversion or perceived as a burdensome narrative—a potential pity party or an imposition on someone else's sense of responsibility. Yet, in the crucible of these anxieties, a profound resolve emerges. I am propelled by a fervent desire to leverage my professional trajectory as a platform to amplify the discourse on mental health. Within this landscape, an often overlooked demographic is the high-functioning students—those who excel academically, immerse themselves in extracurricular pursuits, and present a façade of unyielding strength in public. My personal narrative bears witness to the detrimental consequences of this oversight. As a high-functioning student with an unwavering drive and ambition, my mental health has frequently eluded scrutiny, both by educational institutions and, at times, by my parents. The values instilled in me—holding my head high, making eye contact, delivering a firm handshake, and exuding graciousness—became a mask behind which I concealed my inner turmoil. While these are conventional standards in child-rearing, the loneliness of my struggle intensified because I was an adept actress, concealing the pain beneath the veneer of success. It is imperative that the mental health industry broaden its scope to encompass individuals of all backgrounds, not merely those visibly grappling with adversity. The narrative must transcend the stereotypes and extend its embrace to high-functioning individuals who silently battle their demons. Advocacy for mental health education should begin in elementary school, mirroring the importance placed on physical education. Understanding and embracing vulnerability should be integral components of a comprehensive education, fostering an environment where acknowledging and navigating the spectrum of emotions is not just encouraged but celebrated. It's time for society to recognize that everyone, regardless of their outward appearance, is contending with pain. Mental health education is not a luxury but a necessity, an investment in a future where vulnerability is met with understanding and compassion.

From the tender age of four, my journey in the realm of arts commenced with a seemingly innocent ballet class. What started as a common narrative for many young girls, akin to fleeting fancies, evolved into a steadfast passion that refused to be extinguished. Ballet was just the inaugural act; soon, my stage saw the introduction of modern, tap, jazz, hip hop, and pointe, producing a lifestyle of diverse artistic expressions. The summer months became a canvas for my participation in a plethora of performing arts programs. July bore witness to one program, while a fleeting week in August unfolded another chapter. Around the age of eight or nine, around the time I began tap dancing, I embraced violin lessons. My elementary school's limited offerings for anyone younger than the third grade compelled me into the realm of private lessons until eligibility ushered me into the school's structured program. My musical repertoire yearned for more, an inclination toward the trumpet tempered only by my mother's wisdom, advocating for the mastery of one instrument at a time. The fifth grade marked the commencement of my Friday after-school opera club rendezvous, a rendezvous that partnered with private vocal lessons, culminating in my sixth-grade debut in the musical production of Grease. However, the trajectory of my artistic pursuits took a shift in seventh grade, orchestrating a crescendo towards chorus and vocal performance, sidelining the violin's serenade. The dramatic stage beckoned in eighth grade, casting me as Lucy in the straight play, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. During the summer between eighth and ninth grade, I auditioned for the Walnut Hill School for the Arts musical theater program. I was accepted, but unfortunately couldn’t attend due to financial constraints. Undeterred, I persevered through my freshman year, choreographing a dance of balance between performances and academics. My sophomore year sounded the call for a more focused pursuit of acting studies, shedding a few dance classes along the way. This decision, catalyzed by a desire to graduate a year early, paved the way for a lifestyle where self-taping and ceaseless auditions became my daily ritual. The rejection from my top-choice schools paradoxically led me to the perfect haven - Emerson College. Emerson became a beacon of opportunity, albeit a last-minute application that circumvented the performing arts department. Political Communications became the gateway, with the tacit understanding that the stage awaited my return. Freshman year I performed in a student music video, a short film, and danced with the Emerson Dance Company. As my freshman year concluded, I auditioned over Zoom for the Theater and Performance major. I prepared two contrasting monologues and in the middle of my College Writing class got the email of my acceptance to the Performing Arts department. To say I was elated to rejoin the world I loved and was meant to be in is an understatement. As we now reach the present day, I’ve been taking my performing arts classes for a few months now and I’m enjoying all they’re teaching me. As my future is swiftly approaching, I can promise I will be a film actress and director. There is no other path, no other option, for me and it is what my future holds. I can see a side path in my future that allows me to explore screenwriting as well, but for all I know, my fate could be playing the trumpet.

The wind is crisper, the leaves are turning red, and so are my cheeks. Each season, Starbucks becomes my trusted companion, offering a unique drink to match the changing ambiance. For winter, it’s the comforting embrace of a peppermint mocha latte. Spring awakens with a vibrant pink drink. Summer finds its rhythm in the cool, refreshing notes of a matcha latte with vanilla sweet cream cold foam. But when fall arrives, I crave the warmth of a caramel hot apple cider. In a world where the Starbucks menu is an ever-expanding universe of exotic concoctions, I find comfort in the simplicity of my choices. I am, unapologetically, a traditionalist. I appreciate the beauty in the basics, in drinks that don't overwhelm you with an abundance of ingredients. I prefer my beverages simple, with a touch of sweetness. And that's where the caramel hot apple cider comes into my life. This drink, in all its unassuming glory, has become an integral character in my narrative of fall. It's not as bold as the pumpkin spice latte or as intricate as the salted caramel mocha. The caramel hot apple cider is like an old friend who welcomes you with open arms. One of the endearing qualities of apple cider is its ability to unite a group. Have you ever noticed that when you’re out to eat, and the weather is beginning to turn, the person who orders apple cider begins a domino effect and soon the entire table is ordering apple cider? It’s a comforting ritual, like a collective sigh of relief that fall has finally arrived. Apple cider is the quintessential peacekeeper, a libra, if you will, in the realm of seasonal beverages. But if you're anything like me, someone who enjoys their drinks a touch sweeter than the average person, the caramel apple cider from Starbucks is the undisputed champion. She's like the quirky character in a story, standing out from the crowd. The caramel apple cider isn't just a beverage; it's a cozy sentiment. It feels as if a cat is waiting for you at home, a pot of cinnamon rolls freshly baked in the oven. It captures the essence of those charming New England towns that populate our favorite fall-themed shows and novels. While Gilmore Girls might have made sipping coffee in the fall a cultural phenomenon, the appeal of apple cider remains timeless. It embodies the same small-town charm, the sense of belonging to a close-knit community. It's like stepping into the pages of a heartwarming novel or a picturesque autumn postcard. This drink is a reminder of the beauty of simplicity, of relishing life's little pleasures. In a world of ever-evolving coffee trends and seasonal novelties, the caramel hot apple cider stands as a reminder that sometimes, the classics are timeless for a reason. It's not just a drink; it's an invitation to slow down, savor the moment, and relish the changing seasons. When I hold that warm cup of caramel apple cider in my hands, I'm not just sipping a beverage; I'm sipping the essence of fall itself.

In an era saturated with entertainment options, few shows manage to strike the delicate balance between humor and reality as effectively as Netflix’s “Big Mouth.” Created by Nick Kroll, Andrew Goldberg, Mark Levin, and Jennifer Flackett, this animated series has garnered acclaim for its unapologetic and explicit portrayal of the roller-coaster ride that is puberty. With its exquisite cast, well-crafted script, and daring approach to addressing the awkward truths of growing up, “Big Mouth” stands as a prime example of how entertainment can simultaneously entertain and educate. Puberty, that tumultuous period of transformation from childhood to adulthood, has long been a subject that many television shows and movies have approached with caution. “Big Mouth”, however, dives headfirst into this awkward and often confusing journey, presenting it in all its glory, discomfort, and hilarity. From the first episode, the series makes it clear that it won’t shy away from explicit depictions of bodily changes, sexual exploration, and emotional turmoil. By doing so, the show challenges the societal taboo surrounding these topics, opening up avenues for candid discussions about the natural and universal experiences of puberty. At the heart of “Big Mouth” lies its remarkable ability to extract humor from the most cringe-worthy and embarrassing aspects of adolescence. The creators ingeniously weave together relatable scenarios with fantastical elements, creating a unique blend of realism and absurdity. The humor is not just confined to easy laughs; it often stems from the characters’ vulnerability and the authenticity of their experiences. Whether it’s the personified Hormone Monsters, Maury and Connie, the personifications of Shame or Depression, or the uproarious musical numbers that capture the essence of adolescent emotions, the show finds inventive ways to evoke laughter while staying true to the emotional core of puberty. The voice acting talents of Nick Kroll, John Mulaney, Jessi Klein, Jason Mantzoukas, Maya Rudolph, and more infuse life into the characters, making them multidimensional and utterly engaging. The character’s voices bring out nuances that deepen their personalities, making the audience empathize with their struggles and root for their growth. The chemistry among the cast members creates a seamless dynamic that enhances the show’s comedic timing and emotional resonance, resulting in a viewing experience that is as heartwarming as it is side-splitting. Behind the laughter and outrageous scenarios, “Big Mouth” boasts a meticulously crafted script that doesn’t merely rely on shock value. The writing is both sharp and sensitive, capturing the complexities of adolescent emotions with precision. The characters evolve over the reasons, grappling with issues such as body image, consent, sexual orientation, and mental health. By tackling these subjects head-on, the show not only resonates with its audience but also acts as a springboard for crucial conversations. The writers’ willingness to engage with uncomfortable topics mirrors the courage it takes for young individuals to navigate these same issues in real life. Animations, as a medium, allow “Big Mouth” to transcend the limitations of live-action shows, creating a world where the bizarre and fantastical coexist seamlessly with the mundane. This enables the show to depict the inner thoughts, anxieties, and imaginative interpretations of the characters in a visually captivating manner. The animation style itself balances between caricature and realism, further underscoring the show’s intent to present puberty’s rawness while preserving a relatable quality. “Big Mouth” deserves acclaim not only for its comedic brilliance but also for its fearless exploration of the challenging phase that is puberty. This show stands as a testament to the power of entertainment to educate, entertain, and encourage dialogue about the shared journey of growing up.

In the world of academic pursuits, resilience and determination are often the cornerstones of success. My freshman year of college was a testament to these qualities as I faced a unique set of challenges that tested my mettle. Despite entering college in the second semester and being initially behind my peers, I embarked on a journey defined by relentless perseverance, balancing academics with work, commitments, and extracurriculars, and grappling with mental health hurdles. After all, I didn’t graduate early from high school for nothing. Starting college in the second semester brought its own set of uncertainties. While my peers were already well into their academic and social journeys, I was determined to bridge the gap as swiftly and efficiently as possible. As I embarked on this endeavor, I found myself not just catching up, but excelling in my coursework. The pursuit of knowledge became an invigorating challenge, and I soon discovered that my tenacity was my greatest ally. I managed to maintain an exceptional record of As throughout the semester. Balancing academics with work and extracurriculars might seem daunting, but it was a challenge I willingly embraced. Juggling a part-time job, engaging in dance, and assisting in directing a musical demanded meticulous time management and unwavering discipline. Each commitment demanded my best, and I was determined to give nothing less. Through rigorous planning and prioritization, I demonstrated that dedication knows no bounds. This period not only showcased my commitment to my academics but also underscored my ability to thrive under pressure. The transition from academic year to summer posed a fresh set of hurdles. Eager to catch up with my cohort, I undertook the demanding task of enrolling in three intensive summer courses. However, as June unfolded, so did the challenges to my mental well-being. The strain of catching up while managing my father’s domestic abuse weighed heavily on me. By the end of the month, my struggles with mental health reached a critical point, leading to hospitalization. It was a turning point that could have derailed my journey, but I was determined to not let it define me. Despite my mental health battles, I continued to shine as a full-time camp counselor and a part-time restaurant host. These responsibilities were not just obligations, but testaments to my ability to persevere amidst personal hardships. Moreover, my commitment to excellence in academics remained resolute. Throughout the challenges of July and August, I not only managed to maintain my academic standing but thrived, consistently earning As in my summer courses. In retrospect, my freshman year was a brief yet elaborate story filled with anecdotes of resilience, dedication, and a refusal to succumb to obstacles that seemed too great to mount. My story is not merely one of academic achievement but of personal growth. It serves as a testament to the power of the human spirit to triumph over adversity. Each hurdle, whether it was entering college mid-year, battling mental health struggles, or juggling family with commitments, fortified my resolve to succeed. As I embark on the subsequent years of my college journey, I carry forward the lessons learned during this transformative year, confident in my ability to overcome any obstacle that dares come my way.

Welcome to my Barbie dreamhouse, a remarkable condo nestled in the heart of vibrant Soho, New York City. This exceptional residence boasts four bedrooms and six baths. This condo seamlessly combines historic charm with modern elegance. As you step inside, you'll be captivated by the grandeur of the mahogany staircase that gracefully guides you through the home. The living space exudes timeless sophistication, with warm wood tones enveloping the surroundings. The meticulously designed wood island in the kitchen serves as a focal point. The primary bedroom suite is a haven of pure luxury, featuring not just one, but two walk-in closets – a stylish and functional haven for my and my partner’s (or maybe just my) wardrobe. Adjacent to the primary suite, is an office space that is a lovely orange color, much more interesting than a plain gray or, well, gray. The bar and living area are adorned in a shade of emerald green that isn’t too aggressive, with delicate hints of blue, creating a welcoming and relaxed ambiance. Mid-century modern furniture pieces with gold accents add a touch of retro charm, complementing the teal hues. The kitchen is a masterpiece in itself, adorned in a matte robin's egg blue paint, elegantly juxtaposed with classic black and white marble floors. A cozy nook in the corner, complete with a bench and a small marble table, exudes a sense of comfort and a homey feel to the room. Each bedroom exudes its unique charm with subtle color schemes. One bedroom might have delicate salmon and coral undertones, harmonizing with hints of gray and gold. Another bedroom embraces deep green and olive undertones, accentuated by exquisite gold details as well. Every bedroom offers a window that reveals stunning panoramic views of the iconic NYC skyline, allowing each occupant to revel in the city's energy. Anyone who lives in NYC deserves to see that view when they wake up and when they sleep. For added convenience, every bedroom is accompanied by a bathroom, ensuring comfort and privacy for all. However, the primary suite stands out with not just one, but two spacious walk-in closets, and a walk-in shower. There will also be a built-in laundry system featuring efficient and safe washing and drying machines. And now, the pièce de résistance – a secret passageway, concealed within the walls of this extraordinary home. I can’t tell you where it is or where it leads because that would defeat the whole purpose! I also have a dream summer house, but that’s for another scholarship application. Maybe a Barbie dream summer house scholarship?

Life’s tapestry is woven with threads of connection, tradition, and the profound impact of those who came before us. Yet, in the intricate design of my own story, there exists voids–gaps where grandparents and an aunt should have been. My father’s parents passed away before I was born and my mother’s second oldest sister died a month after my birth, leaving behind an emotional void that has influenced my journey in ways both poignant and profound. These absences, though painful, have become catalysts for my exploration of my Jewish heritage, a quest for self-discovery, and an unwavering pursuit of education. I was named after my paternal grandmother, Elizabeth Quiersly, a woman whose presence I could only imagine through the stories told by my father and pictures in photo albums. We still have her campaign brochure from when she ran for mayor of my hometown. Although she didn’t win, she was the first woman to do this. Her legacy became a distant beacon, guiding me toward a connection I could never fully experience. The loss of these grandparents feels like missing puzzle pieces, vital components of my identity forever hidden from my grasp. Despite this absence, I am determined to honor their memory by embracing the heritage they pass down to me. Tragedy struck again when my maternal grandmother left, a figure of beauty and class I never had the chance to know. Her absence left an ache, a longing to connect with the roots of my family and culture. I found myself yearning to delve deeper into my Jewish identity, a path unexplored throughout my upbringing. While I never attended temple as a child, the memory of my grandmother’s influence and the rich history of heritage now compel me to reconnect. The synagogue’s doors almost beckon to me, a gateway to understanding and embracing the traditions that have shaped generations before me. This desire to embrace my heritage is driven not only by the losses I have endured but also by the strength I draw from my younger self. The child who held onto big dreams and unwavering hope for her future is the same individual who propels me forward today. I am fueled by the knowledge that even when obstacles seem insurmountable, they are merely stepping stones on the path toward achieving those childhood aspirations. The dreams that once belonged to that determined young soul are still within reach, waiting to be transformed into reality through dedication and perseverance. My journey in education has been a testament to this resilience. Every challenge, every setback, is met with the unwavering spirit of my younger self. I stand firm, knowing that she believed in the possibility of greatness and held onto aspirations that knew no bounds. Through the loss of family, in the literal and figurative sense, I have discovered an unbreakable wellspring of strength, one that bolsters me through the trials of academia and propels me toward a future where achievement knows no limits. The absence of my grandparents and my aunt has left indelible marks on my journey, creating a voice that is both heart-wrenching and transformative. This longing for connection, for understanding, has kindled a fire within me to dive into my Jewish heritage, to walk the path that generations before me have tread. The resilience I have developed is not just a testament to my strength, but a tribute to the dreams of my younger self–dreams that continue to guide me towards greatness. L’Chaim!

Growing up, I was fortunate enough to be immersed in the world of performing arts, an experience that has shaped my identity and provided me with an unbreakable connection to my inner self. Since 2009, I have been an active participant in various dance and theater productions, and my journey has been accompanied by the magnificent melodies of the violin. Dance became my language, and the stage, my sanctuary. Through ballet, modern, pointe, tap, hip hop, and jazz, I discovered not only the joy of movement but also the profound impact of artistic expression on my mental well-being. From my earliest days in the second, I manipulated the bow of a violin, coaxing out lovely melodies, my favorite being the well-known William Tell Overture. The stage and the strings became my means of communication, allowing me to convey emotions that words often failed to capture. Among the diverse array of dance styles that I explored, each held a unique place in my heart. Ballet taught discipline and poise, instilling within me a sense of grace that transcended the confines of the stage. Modern dance, with its fluidity and expressive moments, enabled me to communicate my innermost thoughts without uttering a word. It also taught me to literally and figuratively loosen and open up. Pointe work demanded dedication and resilience pushing me to reach new heights (literally) and conquer challenges with unwavering determination. Tap, hip-hop, and jazz introduced me to the colorful rhythms of life, teaching me to embrace spontaneity and find harmony amid chaos. Yet, beyond the technique and the applause, the performing arts became my lifeline during the turbulent chapters of my mental health struggle. The stage, bathed in the spotlight’s semi-aggressive glow, offered a respite from the storms raging in and around me. In those moments of vulnerability, I found solace and freedom, a space where I could shed my inhibitions and let my inner self shine. The mere act of performing became a cathartic release, a conduit through which I could channel my emotions and find real healing. The journey through the performing arts has been a rediscovery of my authentic self, guided by the unwavering inspiration of my younger self. She, who brimmed with dreams and aspirations, serves as a beacon, reminding me of the boundless potential that resides within. Every pirouette, every note played, on the violin, and every step on the stage is an ode to her unwavering spirit. Through the echoes of her youthful laughter, I am driven to embrace life with the same piety and devotion she embodied. The limelight isn't just a place for me to showcase my abilities, but it is also a sanctuary where I honor my past, express my present, and forge my future. I am a testament to the transformative power of artistic expression, a living embodiment of how the performing arts can heal. In the end, my journey through the performing arts is not solely for my gratification. It is a tribute to my younger self, a promise fulfilled to ensure that her dreams continue to thrive within me. It is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the stage can be a source of light and hope. With each line I recite and each step I take, I am perpetuating a legacy of joy, laughter, and passion–a legacy that resonates not only with me but also within the hearts of those who have had the angelic pleasure of performing on stage.

I do not agree with this statement in its entirety. I would say that how we respond to life's challenges shapes our subconscious habits. Living with an alcoholic father is difficult enough as it is. However, it's even more difficult living with an alcoholic father who truly does not believe he is ill. On top of that, someone who is dead set on convincing everyone in our lives that he is not sick and that my mother is crazy and infesting me with a false narrative. Because who in my small town would believe that my father was an abusive alcoholic who cheats on his wife after threatening to kill her? He's such a good guy who's done so much for the community. There's no conceivable way this is actually happening. But am I not allowed to form my own opinions based on what I’ve seen? There have been many scenarios involving my father which have shaped how I approach obstacles in my life. These scenarios are raw. Raw resentment, ravenous, and rich. Watching my father threaten to kill my mother in a drunken state has given me a trait of self-protection I never had before. Witnessing addiction has given me the power to detect lies and deceiving behavior very easily. Doors were slammed in my face and all I got the next morning were improvised apologies. Worst of all, finding out my father was having an affair with my mother's friend, and trying to justify it, showed me that addiction can put all your morals to rest. They are placed on a shelf, left to collect dust, and never be seen again. This has made me feel like trusting another to love you infinitely for all that you are is a foolish concept. My most significant observation living with someone who hides their addiction is the shocking fact that no one believes your side. I have learned I have to prove myself to almost everyone I know. Things are not always as they seem and when you get the chance to share your story you have to really sell it. Since these recent events, I have taught myself how to cut people out of my life with no reaction. I am not proud of this new response in my repertoire. It has cost me my relationship with other people as well as with my father. I was his little girl. The one he loved the most. But alas, it is my easiest escape from my personal plight and the myriad of obstacles I've been handed. I had no idea this would cost me funding for my college education. Since I've stopped communicating with my father for my emotional and mental safety, he has refused to help me pay for college. He would constantly tell me that I would never receive any scholarships or aid. I suppose it was only a matter of time before he refused his responsibility as a father, a guardian. So no, I do not agree that how we choose to respond to life's challenges shapes our life. Instead, they shape how we approach our life. A bad hand of cards does not determine your future. The poker game can always come to an end, and life goes on. One's future is not determined by one card game unless you allow it to be. My current session has been a tough one and has taught me well, but it does not define how I will perform once the ace of spades is dealt in my next game.