Throughout my whole life, I've always imagined myself off to college at 18. I mentally prepared myself. And in many of those moments of imagining myself moving into my new college dorm, I hear my mother say, the sky is not a limit but a motivation to continue flying higher. Both of my parents did not have the opportunity to finish their education. My mother was the oldest of five children and left school after her first year to help care for her siblings. A memory my mother recalls is wearing plastic sandals during a formal school event where all eyes were on her. The family didn't have enough money for shoes and clothes. Something my mother wanted to make sure my brother and I wouldn't experience. My father had to leave school due to work and being able to provide for his new family, and what makes this bittersweet is that he only had a few months left to graduate. I come from a family of hard workers who continue flying, despite the hurdles life has thrown at them. However, why is education important to me? As a Latina woman, I've been told to continue preserving because there are obstacles that lie beyond school. From a young age, I've carried in the back of my mind that I have to work twice as hard to not be left behind. To stand out, I have to go beyond the limits placed in front of me. I want to make a difference. I want to grow as a person. I want to hold all the opportunities granted to me and use them not only to make myself proud but to make those who have supported me proud. For the longest time, leaving for college has been an opportunity to become independent. However, as the moving day gets closer, I realized that leaving for college is the start of my college career. My first day of school is still very vivid, I remember sitting down at my table with my father reading a book and waiting for the bell to ring. When the bell rang and my father got up and left, I did not cry. Since that day, I have treated school as part of my daily routine. But no longer want it to be a daily routine but my path towards achieving my degree in Psychology. To become a Clinical Psychology and become an advocate for mental health. There will be years that will seem long and will become time-consuming yet I want to keep moving forward because at the end of the day I will be working towards my future. And as the first-generation student in my family, I want to stand and represent the values my family stands for Ambition, Empathy, and Appreciation.

The soft cushions created the landscape of mountains, the cracks in between spewed lava, and my brother followed me as we jumped from one “mountain” to the other. Lost in our imaginary vision, I had failed to notice that one of the cushions was too close to the shelf. The little traveler behind me slipped on the cushion and the side of his eye hit the corner of the shelf. Our imaginary vision evaporated and panic froze me in place. As my younger brother held his eye, letting out a cry of pain, I ran away. The scar projects the story from nearly twelve years ago, and although the story turned into a memory, the overwhelming sense of anger and shame that I felt has hidden behind the scar. In truth, I believed I had failed my responsibility as the older sister. While time has passed, games from our childhood have found new ways to reappear. Through my eyes, I’ve watched him live his childhood dreams. Being an older sibling can be an overwhelming experience. It was a new responsibility given to me at the age of six, and despite the moments of bickering, I did not let go of my role. From explaining life-situations, staying up late to help out on art projects, to watching him sing on stage, they were core memories associated with his individualism. Following behind is a traveler who has been following me for more than a decade. There’s new determination in his eyes and as the years have passed, I have seen him take initiative in his own life. My brother has become a leader in his own ways by guiding those around him. I have watched and guided him through life, however, he taught me how to appreciate it.

I live in a small two story apartment in a neighborhood where the stars enchant the sky. The room with a cool shade of blue, multiple knick-knacks sharing a glimpse of life, and two siblings sharing their small but personal space is my room. I have grown up in this apartment since I was four as the markings on the walls clearly show my little kindergarten drawings. My little apartment is my definition of home, a home my parents worked hard to maintain. Everyone wants to know their family history and with my previous combination of being a chatterbox, I started to ask questions. These questions led to answers that would fill me with gratitude and more appreciation for the sacrifices and hard work my parents endured. At the age of fifteen, my father was sent to live in a foster home in the United States to work and continue his education. However, it was a bittersweet time for him because as he continued to reach for his dreams, he missed his family back in Mexico. With the opportunity offered to her, my mother came to the United States to work at the age of seventeen. She wanted to show her younger siblings that opportunities are out there and thus she left to pursue them. I come from a family of hard workers who taught me that life is precious because we only have one. Both my parents have constantly supported my dreams and goals. I may live in a small apartment, but it is my space. It is now my turn to reach for my dreams and show my parents that their sacrifices led me to beautiful future. Soon, I will be graduating and I will stand forward and let my parents know that we did it!

In 2019, I finally created the final draft of my fantasy novel, or so I thought I did. From a young age, I had hopes of creating a story with my hands, a story that wouldn’t exist without me. Writing is a form of magic. Every single piece of paper or journal I have, has been enchanted with dark ink painting strokes in order to breathe life into my stories. Being able to create something purely from my imagination fills me with pride. Growing up, I constantly used reading as an outlet to escape from reality for a while. The words would float away from the pages to form vivid illustrations of the stories I read. Soon after, I knew I wanted to make a story of my own, one that fills others with inspiration, comfort, representation, and hope. Although I do consider writing to be my hobby, I still hold onto my dream of having my works be published and placed on a shelf. It is now 2022. Almost five years ago, I created my first fantasy realm with characters who can jump off the page and offer me a dance. The original plot is no longer the same, but that is how change and progress works. Writing is a time consuming hobby, believe me, I’ve been through my fair share of writer's block.I n order to continue building my skills as a creative writer, I have to be open with the possibility of changing structures of the story. My first draft was the beginning of dreams, yet, I want those dreams to become a reality, and to do so I have to continue practicing. That’s where the real magic comes in.

The beautiful Victorian classic, 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Brontë is my favorite novel. My AP Literature teacher recommended the novel as part of a reading assignment, a novel she believed would remain in my heart for a long time. Charlotte Brontë had an amazing way with words that illustrated vivid depictions of the settings, the characters, and the overall eeriness of the novel. From the very little knowledge I had of the novel, I believed I would be filled with romance. However, I was proven wrong, I now strongly believe ‘Jane Eyre’ is not a romance novel. The story as a whole shared the perspective of a woman in the Victorian era challenging gender roles and social norms. The novel held me in suspense as I was trying to figure out Thornfield's secrets, but the plot twist was perfect! Bronte made Jane feel real with a voice for truth, logic, and empathy. Jane made a name for herself and fought to be seen as an equal to others. She was a refreshing and inspiring protagonist who viewed the reader as a friend, a personal choice Charlotte Bronte decided to make. I believed it worked as Jane Eyre won my heart. One of my pet peeves is breaking the spines of paperback books. Ironically, my copy of 'Jane Eyre' has a broken spine from all the annotating and tabbing that I did. At one point, I refused to finish the final chapter because if I read the last sentence of the novel, Jane would no longer share her story with me. I will admit I did cry reading 'Jane Eyre', but I believe my tears were an accurate representation of the power and love Charlotte Bronte gave to this charming novel, a note I will take for my works.