Growing up with autism has presented its fair share of challenges, particularly the constant comparisons to my peers who often perceived my way of thinking as different. From a young age, especially after my diagnosis at the Marcus Institute when I was just 32 months old, I faced ridicule from those who lacked a true understanding of my experiences and capabilities. Initially, I thought I could bridge this gap by over-explaining myself, desperately seeking validation from those who couldn't place themselves in my shoes. Yet, by the end of my 8th grade year, spilling over into my freshman year of high school, I learned a powerful lesson: actions often speak louder than words. Taking that lesson into account, I channeled my energy into establishing writing clubs at every school I attended. These clubs became a platform not only for my passion for writing but also a space for fostering creativity and self-expression among my peers. Balancing these responsibilities along with my coursework, I thrived academically, achieving exceptional scores on my AP exams. The journey wasn’t always smooth, however. The frequent changes in my environment due to family circumstances brought chaos and uncertainty. But it was within it that I found my voice and learned to advocate for others, bringing writing to the forefront as a vital skill that can both make or break communities. And I chose the former. This drive for advocacy and community building is deeply rooted in my own experiences. I stand as a testament to the achievements that can be unlocked with support, determination, and understanding. My diagnosis opened doors to therapeutic guidance that shaped me into who I am today. The encouragement from occupational and speech therapists illuminated my path, helping me confront and trump the limitations imposed by society's misconceptions about individuals on the spectrum. As I embark on the next chapter of my education, I am eager to channel this experience into a broader narrative of advocacy for those like me who were constantly doubted.

I've never been given a road-map of where I'm supposed to go and become, for I only had a single pen, a piece of paper, and a burning sense of stubbornness that my words can make a difference. As a first-generation college student, every step towards being a journalist seems right to me, not just for myself, but for my family and community that's ever been told that their story wasn't going to ever "matter." My mother taught me the value of hard work, but college was a world no one knew how to navigate, for you're expected to be tossed out and to research for unknown waivers on your own. It's hard when you are struggling financially as a student, to where sometimes you hit rock bottom one too many times, in which desperation will turn into fuel for succeeding. It's exceptionally much harder, though, when you are high-functioning on the autism spectrum. People shove you around between the box of being "incapable" since I have struggled to pick up on social cues within my life, but also "not deserving of help" because of how advanced I am in seeing the minute details everyone else overlooks. What once felt like a limitation or a "burden", became an asset for me to truly understand the world around me without playing the dance of social charades, where one action can be interpreted and twisted one too many ways far from the truth. I may be the first in my family to go to college and to graduate, but I won't be the last. And my story and words will make sure of that.