My sister and I have grown up on the super Mario brothers games. Every time a new game has come out we have always gotten it whether it be on the gameboy, DS, Wii or now the Nintendo switch. We use it as a way to destress and come together after long days. Our favorite one is probably the newest Mario Party. We have so many incredible memories laughing and playing it together and with friends. Mario has somehow managed to bring people together no matter how old (even us at 23 and 25 years old). We still manage to get together with friends at social gatherings and whip out Mario cart or Mario party and bring a competitive fun time to those around us. A memorable moment would probably be the first time our parents got us a Wii for the holidays when we were around 10 years old. I just remember us staying up way past our bed time and playing super Mario brothers together trying so desperately to beat the levels. We would play for hours on end and never get bored and we still do. Even as an adult this classic game still brings us together and thats what I love about Mario.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds. That’s the amount of time it takes to clear out an email inbox, make a phone call, pick an outfit, or listen to a song. The same amount of time can also be what changes your life forever. For me three minutes and forty-five seconds was the amount of time it took for a shooter to come into my high school and brutally murder 17 innocent people. These three minutes and forty-five seconds ruined my community and stole innocent lives, but they also made me angry. This anger brought forth something I had never experienced before—an urge to do something to change the world. In three minutes and forty-five seconds I found my reason for surviving; I needed to spend the rest of my life fighting to end gun violence in America. On February 14, 2018, Valentine’s Day, the sky was shining a beautiful bright blue, and the air was filled with love. I was 17 years and 5 days old. I had received a gift, chocolates, from my best friend. The entire school was radiating happiness, or maybe a sugar rush from the candy; regardless, the energy radiated positivity. But at 2:21 pm on this beautiful day everything turned into absolute madness. A day that was shining and bright turned into one filled with blood-soaked chaos as bullets rang through the hallways of building 12. I ran for my life leaving every piece of that beautiful day—my chocolates, my childhood, my innocence—behind. I was never the same, my community was never the same, and as I would soon learn, my world would never be the same. Two weeks after the shooting, I had the opportunity to speak at an event for change in Parkland. I saw this as a chance to use my anger towards progress. I spoke to an audience of a few hundred people, community members, grieving families, and fellow survivors. I spoke about how we needed change, and how we needed it now. Gun violence is the number one cause of death for children in America—we lose multiple innocent young lives, so full of potential, every single day. That day, in front of a few hundred members of my community, I knew my audience would be receptive to my message. If I could encourage even one person to vote, care, or protest, it would be a step in the right direction for our country. I loved how it felt being able to speak my truth and cries for change in front of a large crowd. In the days after the shooting, I’d felt so helpless. But now, being able to channel my trauma, anger, and pain into something productive allowed me to begin to heal. I realized I wasn’t helpless. I could use my experience and my trauma and turn it into action. I could speak out and motivate people to care about our political system and work for real change. My feeling of helplessness began to fade. I started speaking to a therapist and ended up with a diagnosis of PTSD. I continued to speak out at bigger events, including a school walkout at my local park and my Youth Group’s International Convention where thousands were in attendance. Fellow students approached me, encouraged and ready to vote in future elections, carry out walkouts at their schools, and march for change. I realized that lawmakers aren’t the only ones who decide how our country is run; we, the people who elect them also have a voice. On March 24, 2018, a rally of millions of people gathered all around the nation marching for change. March for Our Lives was the day where everything came together for me. I stood in front of the stage where students and teachers from my school were gathered. When I turned around, I saw a sea of people standing behind me, mostly students, protesting, fighting, crying, and ready to enact change. I realized in this moment we are not alone; the future of America has our back. As I watched my classmates on stage everything hit me. This was all real, those were my classmates, my young innocent classmates on stage telling lawmakers how to do their jobs. I was amazed and I was disappointed—that we, the children, had to be the ones speaking up. At that moment, I recognized that my generation will be the change. And I knew that I wanted to represent the future of the nation. We will not be the next silent generation, watching our children change the world. We will be the ones changing the world so that our children can live a better tomorrow. This is why I want to practice law. I believe that the law can be the foundation for real change in our nation, from ending gun violence and racial discrimination, to fighting climate change, to protecting women’s rights, accessible healthcare, and LGBTQ+ rights. I know change isn’t instant and it takes time, but devoting my life to fighting the fight, preventing more people from experiencing tragedy, discrimination, and marginalization, and making real changes that affect real people sounds like a meaningful life to me. Three minutes and forty-five seconds took everything from me and my community, but it also gave me a passion, a purpose, and a reason for every precious minute I have left on this earth. By using my fight and passion it has helped me cope with my PTSD and trauma. I am actively in therapy and use that as a way to help my symptoms, but have found that activism and fighting for a purpose soothes the pain and trauma the most. I am hopeful that I have the opportunity to make a difference on the world and I will continue to educate myself and fight so no one has to experience what my community has been through.

To me, the ultimate form of success has no absolute definition. I believe my future success will best be measured by happiness. I want to make sure I am living a life where I can pursue my passions and feel comfortable providing a lifestyle for my family where we can all thrive off my passions. For me that passion is gun violence advocacy. After surviving a mass shooting at my high school, Marjory Stoneman Douglas, In Parkland Florida, my life's purpose shifted. Two weeks after the shooting, I spoke at an event for change in Parkland. I saw this as a chance to use my anger towards progress. Gun violence is the number one cause of death for children in America—we lose multiple innocent young lives, so full of potential, every single day. That day I knew that if I could encourage even one person to vote, care, or protest, it would be a step in the right direction for our country. In the days after the shooting, I’d felt so helpless. But now, being able to channel my pain into something productive allowed me to begin to heal. I realized I wasn’t helpless. I could turn my experience and my trauma into action. I could speak out and motivate people to care about our political system and work for real change. On March 24, 2018, a rally of millions of people gathered all around the nation marching for change. March for Our Lives was the day where everything came together for me. I stood in front of the stage where students and teachers from my school were gathered. When I turned around, I saw a sea of people standing behind me, mostly students, protesting, fighting, crying, and ready to enact change. I realized in this moment we are not alone; the future of America has our back. I was amazed and I was disappointed—that we, the children, had to be the ones speaking up. At that moment, I recognized that my generation will be the change. I knew that I wanted to represent the future of our nation. This is why I want to practice law. The law can be a foundation for real change in our nation, from ending gun violence and racial discrimination, to fighting climate change, to protecting women’s rights, accessible healthcare, and LGBTQ+ rights. I know change takes time, but devoting my life to fighting the fight, preventing more people from experiencing tragedy, discrimination, and marginalization, and making real changes that affect real people sounds like a successful life to me. With the scholarship I will be able to help fund my dream of going to law school and ensure that I dont have to worry about the financial burden as much as I would otherwise. This scholarship will help push me towards a future where I can enact real change in the world and be part of the future of America. I want us as a country to achieve success and to me that would mean that the number one cause of death for children in America will not be gun violence. Thank you for your consideration.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds. That’s the amount of time it takes to clear out an email inbox, make a phone call, pick an outfit, or listen to a song. The same amount of time can also be what changes your life forever. For me three minutes and forty-five seconds was the amount of time it took for a shooter to come into my high school and brutally murder 17 innocent people. These three minutes and forty-five seconds ruined my community and stole innocent lives, but they also made me angry. This anger brought forth something I had never experienced before—an urge to do something to change the world. On February 14, 2018, Valentine’s Day, the sky was shining, and the air was filled with love. I was 17 years old. I had received a gift, chocolates, from my friend. The entire school was radiating happiness. But at 2:21 pm on this beautiful day everything turned into absolute madness. A day that was shining and bright turned into one filled with blood-soaked chaos as bullets rang through the hallways of building 12. I ran for my life leaving every piece of that day—my chocolates, my childhood, my innocence—behind. I was never the same, my community was never the same, and as I would soon learn, my world would never be the same. Two weeks after the shooting, I spoke at an event for change in Parkland. I saw this as a chance to use my anger towards progress. Gun violence is the number one cause of death for children in America—we lose multiple innocent young lives, so full of potential, every single day. That day I knew that if I could encourage even one person to vote, care, or protest, it would be a step in the right direction for our country. In the days after the shooting, I’d felt so helpless. But now, being able to channel my pain into something productive allowed me to begin to heal. I realized I wasn’t helpless. I could turn my experience and my trauma into action. I could speak out and motivate people to care about our political system and work for real change. On March 24, 2018, a rally of millions of people gathered all around the nation marching for change. March for Our Lives was the day where everything came together for me. I stood in front of the stage where students and teachers from my school were gathered. When I turned around, I saw a sea of people standing behind me, mostly students, protesting, fighting, crying, and ready to enact change. I realized in this moment we are not alone; the future of America has our back. I was amazed and I was disappointed—that we, the children, had to be the ones speaking up. At that moment, I recognized that my generation will be the change. I knew that I wanted to represent the future of our nation. This is why I want to practice law. The law can be a foundation for real change in our nation, from ending gun violence and racial discrimination, to fighting climate change, to protecting women’s rights, accessible healthcare, and LGBTQ+ rights. I know change takes time, but devoting my life to fighting the fight, preventing more people from experiencing tragedy, discrimination, and marginalization, and making real changes that affect real people sounds like a meaningful life to me. Three minutes and forty-five seconds took everything from me and my community, but it also gave me a passion, a purpose, and a reason for every precious minute I have left on this earth.