In July of this past summer, my grandpa Steve lost his battle with lung cancer. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, and I don’t remember what my last words to him were. That memory, or the lack of it—has haunted me, leaving a deep ache that I carry with me every day since he passed in July. Losing him so suddenly taught me, in a way I will never forget, the importance of being intentional with the people I love and the words I leave behind. Grandpa Steve was more than a family member; he was a source of wisdom, humor, and unconditional support. He had a way of making everyone around him feel seen and valued, and he always reminded me to approach life with kindness and heart. His passing left a silence that cannot be filled, but it also gave me a profound lesson about love, connection, and the true fragility of time. Losing him so abruptly made me realize that life is unpredictable, and that the moments we have with the people we care about are precious. Since his passing, I have made it a personal mission to be deliberate with my words and actions toward those I love. I now make sure that my last words to anyone—family, friends, mentors, are always “I love you.” It is a small gesture, but it is one that carries immense weight. I want the people in my life to know, without question, that they are cherished and appreciated. This practice has reshaped the way I interact with others, helping me cultivate deeper relationships, express gratitude, and live with more intentionality. Especially if those will be my last words to them. Grandpa Steve’s loss has also influenced my personal goals and my resilience. Facing the pain of grief while continuing with school, music, and everyday life has taught me the value of perseverance. It has reminded me that life is often difficult, but it is also precious, and how we choose to live it matters. I try to carry the lessons he taught me, strength, kindness, and the ability to see the good in people into my own life. Whether I am performing, writing music, or simply supporting a friend, I think of the way Grandpa Steve approached the world and strive to emulate that same compassion and authenticity. While I will always wish I had one more chance to say goodbye, I have turned that regret into a source of motivation. It drives me to live fully, love openly, and ensure that the people I care about never leave without knowing how much they mean to me. Losing Grandpa Steve has shaped me into someone who values connection, empathy, and presence. His memory continues to guide me, reminding me that the simplest expressions of love can have a lasting impact, and that even in loss, there is a lesson that can transform the way we live and love.

As a first-generation college student and a vocal performance major, my future is guided by a desire to combine my love of music with a commitment to making a meaningful impact on others. Music has always been my safe space, a way to process emotions, express myself, and connect with the world. Through singing and songwriting, I’ve discovered the power of storytelling and the ability to touch people’s hearts. My long-term goal is to use my education and artistic skills not only to perform professionally but also to teach music to underprivileged children, giving them the opportunity to experience the joy and empowerment that music has given me. I plan to continue developing my skills as a vocalist while also expanding my abilities as a songwriter and performer. I hope to create music that speaks to real human experiences, exploring themes of resilience, empathy, and hope. Beyond performing, I am passionate about mentoring and teaching young people, especially those who may not have access to music programs. Music has transformed my life by offering a safe space for self-expression, emotional growth, and confidence, and I want to provide that same opportunity to children who face financial or social barriers. Teaching music to underprivileged kids would allow me to inspire creativity, nurture self-esteem, and open doors to experiences they might not otherwise have. Education is the foundation that will allow me to reach these goals. College provides me with the tools, guidance, and opportunities I need to refine my craft, gain professional experience, and learn the skills necessary to teach effectively. Courses in music theory, performance, and pedagogy will strengthen my technical abilities, while opportunities to perform, collaborate, and mentor will help me build confidence and true leadership skills. I see my education not just as a personal achievement but as preparation to create a career that combines artistry with service. Receiving this scholarship would make a tangible difference in my journey. Financial support would allow me to focus more fully on my studies, performances, and teaching preparation, reducing the stress of balancing school and personal responsibilities. It would also provide opportunities to attend workshops, participate in performance programs, or gain hands-on teaching experience with young students. Most importantly, it would be an investment in my ability to give back, to my community and possibly to the next generation of musicians who might not otherwise have the chance to explore their talents. Ultimately, my goal is to use the skills and experiences I gain in college to create a career that combines performing and teaching. I want to write and perform songs that resonate with people, and I want to guide underprivileged children in discovering their own voices and confidence through music. This scholarship would not only support my education but also enable me to continue cultivating the resilience, compassion, and dedication that have brought me this far. With this support, I can focus on my growth, pursue my dreams with confidence, and build a future where I can share my music and my story with the world.

Adversity has played a central role in shaping who I am, both personally and professionally. Living with depression and anxiety has made some days incredibly challenging, with tasks that may seem simple to others feeling overwhelming to me. Despite having these struggles, I’ve learned to adapt and keep moving toward my long-term goals and aspirations. These experiences have taught me resilience, patience, and the value of always having persistence, qualities that influence everything I do, especially in my career as a vocal performance major. Music has always been my safe space, but songwriting has been the most powerful outlet for me. When anxiety or depression feels too heavy to bear, writing songs allows me to process and express emotions that are otherwise difficult to articulate. Songwriting is not only a creative practice, it’s also a therapeutic one. Through lyrics and melody, I can confront my struggles, explore my feelings, and transform them into something meaningful. It helps me feel heard, even when I'm alone in my room and nobody's truly listening—It gives me a sense of purpose that sustains me during challenging times. In addition to music, I’ve worked hard to develop habits that support both my mental health and my academic and artistic goals. Reading Atomic Habits was a turning point in my approach to growth. The book taught me that lasting change comes from small, consistent actions rather than sudden bursts of motivation. I’ve applied this by breaking big goals into achievable steps. If a full practice session feels impossible, I focus on just a few minutes of singing or writing. If a large assignment feels daunting, I tackle it one paragraph at a time. These small, intentional habits have given me structure and consistency, helping me continue to progress even on the hardest days for me mentally. Creating routines and systems has been equally important for me. I schedule dedicated time for practice, songwriting, and self-care, and I set up my environment to minimize distractions and stress. Even when I feel anxious or low, having these routines helps me maintain momentum. Coupled with this, I’ve learned the importance of seeking support from loved ones. Talking to professors, peers, and mental health professionals has provided guidance, accountability, and reassurance, showing me that asking for help is not a weakness but a strategy for true success. Through these experiences, I’ve realized that adversity does not define me as a person, it strengthens me. Living with depression and anxiety has forced me to develop emotional resilience, empathy, and discipline, all of which enhance my artistry. Songwriting and music are more than hobbies to me, they are tools that help me navigate life’s challenges while keeping me connected to my purpose. By combining creativity with deliberate habits and support systems, I continue to pursue my career aspirations with determination, adaptability, and hope. Even on days when depression or anxiety makes progress feel impossible to me, songwriting reminds me that every small step matters. Each song I write, each note I sing, and each habit I build brings me closer to the future I am working toward. Adversity has shaped the way I create, the way I grow, and the way I approach my dreams, and it has taught me that resilience, expression, and consistent effort are the keys to achieving them.

Growing up, I faced the challenges of depression and anxiety, struggles that often made life feel heavier and more complicated than it should have been. I started therapy when I was twelve, and I’ve been fortunate to have the same therapist for the past eight years. Over time, these sessions have helped me understand myself, manage my emotions, and develop coping strategies that allow me to navigate the world with more clarity and resilience. Mental health has not just been a personal journey, it has shaped how I see myself, how I connect with others, and how I envision my future. Living with anxiety and depression has influenced my beliefs in profound ways. I’m a firm believer that everyone should get mental health support, whether or not they think there’s a problem. Even if someone doesn’t realize they could benefit from it, therapy and true self-reflection can help them grow, understand themselves better, and navigate life with more clarity. I believe that every negative stigma surrounding mental health should be gone. Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness, and I want to help normalize this perspective so others feel empowered to prioritize their well-being. Music has been my lifeline throughout my mental health journey. I’ve realized that music itself is a form of therapy. Writing songs, performing, and playing instruments have given me a voice when I felt voiceless and a sense of control when everything else felt overwhelming. Music has not only been therapeutic for me but also a bridge to connect with others. Through songwriting and performance, I’ve found ways to share my experiences in a way that resonates with people, encouraging them to feel seen, understood, and less alone in their struggles. These experiences have shaped my career aspirations. I want to build a career in music that combines artistry with purpose. Beyond performing and songwriting, I hope to use music as a tool to support mental health awareness and create spaces where people can express themselves freely and authentically. My work with children at the Flint Institute of Arts, where I assist music therapists working with kids who have disabilities, has reinforced my desire to use music to help others communicate and heal. I want to inspire empathy and connection through my art, just as music has inspired hope and understanding in me. Living with mental health challenges has taught me resilience, self-awareness, and compassion. These lessons shape who I am, how I relate to others, and how I pursue my goals. I’ve learned that struggles do not define you, but how you respond to them can shape your path. Music has been the constant thread through my journey, guiding me toward a career where I can make a meaningful impact while staying true to myself, sharing the belief that everyone deserves support, and helping break down the stigma surrounding mental health.

My “Pie in the Sky” dream is to be a performer on Broadway and a songwriter whose music reaches and uplifts people around the world. It’s a dream that feels both thrilling and almost impossibly far away, yet it’s the spark that fuels everything I do. From a young age, music has been my refuge and my voice. Growing up low-income, barely scraping by, life was often overwhelming and uncertain. Music became my safe space, a way to process emotions, connect with others, and imagine a future beyond the struggles I saw around me. The seed of this dream grew stronger when I began writing my own songs and performing. Songwriting allows me to tell stories honestly and vulnerably, and performing gives me the ability to share those stories in a way that moves people. My experiences working at the Flint Institute of Arts during the summers have deepened this vision. I assist music therapists working with children ages four to sixteen with disabilities, many of whom cannot speak. I speak with them through music, and they “talk” back through dance and melody. Witnessing their joy, expression, and connection has changed the way I see the world. It has shown me that music can make people feel understood in a profound way, even without words, and that inspiring empathy and connection is one of the most powerful things we can do. To make my “Pie in the Sky” dream a reality, I’ve identified several key steps I need to take in the coming years. First, I need to continue developing my craft as a vocalist and songwriter, dedicating time to study, practice, and recording. I’m excited that I have music tentatively coming out soon, and I plan to keep building my portfolio to reach larger audiences. Second, I want to gain performance experience through auditions, showcases, and eventually professional theater opportunities, including Broadway. Every stage, studio session, and collaboration will be a step closer to realizing this dream. Third, I aim to use my platform to advocate for empathy, inclusion, and social awareness, ensuring my career is not just about personal success but about uplifting others. I also recognize that community and mentorship are essential. I’ve been inspired by role models like Stevie Nicks, whose songwriting is fearless and authentic, and my voice teacher, Dr. Kathryn Stieler, who pushes me every day to grow as a musician and a person. Along with my parents and friends who are always in my corner supporting everything I do. Surrounding myself with people who encourage creativity, resilience, and authenticity is a step I can take right now toward realizing my dream. Ultimately, my “Pie in the Sky” goal is about more than fame or recognition as a singer, it’s about touching hearts, fostering understanding, and inspiring others to feel seen and valued. Every song I write, every note I sing, and every connection I make brings me closer to that vision. While the dream feels vast and sometimes daunting, it’s the spark that drives me, and I am committed to taking each courageous step toward it, with heart, community, and unwavering belief in growth.

Music has always been my safe space, my guide, and my voice. Growing up low-income, my family was barely scraping by. My mom experienced homelessness in Detroit, and my dad grew up in Flint, Michigan, working tirelessly just to get by. Their perseverance and work ethic became the foundation of my own drive: no matter the obstacles, keep pushing, keep creating, and keep striving to grow. From a young age, I turned to music to process my experiences and express myself in ways I couldn’t put into words. Today, as a vocal performance major at Grand Valley State University, music is not only my passion but the path I’ve chosen to make a positive impact in the world. In addition to performing and songwriting, I spend my summers working at the Flint Institute of Arts alongside music therapists. There, I assist children ages four to sixteen with disabilities, many of whom cannot speak. I watch them communicate through music and dance, expressing joy, frustration, and creativity in ways that transcend words. I speak with them through melodies and rhythms, and in return, they “talk” back through movement and sound. These experiences have completely transformed the way I see the world and myself. They’ve taught me patience, empathy, and the importance of listening deeply. They’ve shown me the power of music to help people feel seen, heard, and understood. These lessons guide the way I want to make a positive impact through my career. I hope to perform on Broadway, release original music, and write songs that tell honest, vulnerable stories. More than just entertaining, I want my art to foster empathy, understanding, and connection. Especially for those who have disabilities that need to express themselves in “unconventional” ways. I aim to use my platform to advocate for people who feel unseen or underestimated and to bring attention to issues of social justice, mental health, and inclusion. I want others to experience the same sense of connection and understanding through music and the arts that I see every day with the children I work with. Being a first-generation college student from a low-income background has given me a unique perspective. I understand the challenges of overcoming obstacles and creating opportunities where none seem to exist. These experiences fuel my commitment to using my talents for a greater purpose. Through performance, songwriting, and advocacy, I hope to inspire others, open hearts, and create spaces where everyone feels valued and understood. Ultimately, my goal is to use music not only as a career but as a tool for change, a way to bridge differences, foster compassion, and leave the world a little more connected and empathetic than I found it. I want to show that even in small acts, like helping a child communicate through a song, we can make a meaningful difference. That is the impact I hope to carry into every stage, every studio, and every audience I encounter.

Being a first-generation college student has meant navigating a world that my parents never had the opportunity to enter. My mom grew up frequently homeless in Detroit, and my dad grew up in Flint, Michigan, working hard to get by. They didn’t go to college, but they taught me the importance of perseverance: even when things are hard, even when you’re barely scraping by, keep pushing, always. Their example has shaped not only my work ethic but also my commitment to making the most of every opportunity in my life. Music has been my safe space and my guide through challenges. From a young age, it allowed me to express emotions I didn’t have words for and connect with people in ways nothing else could. As a vocal performance major at Grand Valley State University, I’ve developed both my technical skills and my understanding of how music can communicate, heal, and inspire. Songwriting, performing, and creating music are not just career goals for me…they are ways to connect with the world and encourage understanding. In the summers, I work at the Flint Institute of Arts alongside music therapists who work with children ages four to sixteen with disabilities. Many of these children cannot speak, yet I watch them communicate through music and dance. I speak with them through melodies, rhythms, and movement, and in return, they “talk” back to me in ways that are profound and joyful. Witnessing these moments has completely transformed the way I see the world and myself. I’ve learned patience, empathy, and the importance of listening deeply to others. These experiences have shown me the power of the arts to make people feel seen and understood, even when words fail. These experiences inspire me to use my talents and skills to build a more empathetic and understanding global community. I hope to write songs and perform in ways that encourage connection and compassion. I want my music to tell stories that help people understand perspectives different from their own and to provide comfort for those who feel unseen or unheard. Beyond performance, I aim to use my platform to advocate for people who face challenges, to shine a light on issues of social justice, and to help others feel valued and supported. I want everyone to be able to feel understood in the way these kids do through music and other arts, However they choose to express themselves. Being a first-generation student has given me a unique perspective. I understand what it means to overcome obstacles, to persevere, and to create opportunities where none seem to exist. This scholarship would help me continue my education and provide the stability to focus on growing as a musician, songwriter, and advocate. With this support, I can continue to develop my craft and expand my ability to positively impact others, using music as a tool for empathy, understanding, and connection. I am fully committed to carrying forward the lessons I’ve learned from my parents, my education, and my work with children into everything I do. Through my music and actions, I want to contribute to a world where people listen, understand, and support one another, especially with music.

Being a first-generation student means stepping into a world my parents never had the opportunity to experience. My mom grew up frequently homeless in Detroit, and my dad grew up in Flint, Michigan, always working hard to get by. They didn’t get to go to college, but they taught me the value of perseverance. Even when things aren’t easy, even when you’re barely scraping by, keep pushing. Their example of determination and resilience drives me every day and reminds me that my goals are worth every effort. Growing up wasn’t always easy, and I faced challenges that forced me to find my own safe space. Music became that space. It was the one place where I felt understood, grounded, and free to express what I couldn’t put into words. Whether I’m sitting alone in my bedroom plucking melodies on my guitar or creating new music in the studio, music has always been my refuge and my compass. Choosing music wasn’t just a career choice. It was survival and self-expression all at once. My dreams are big. I want to perform on Broadway, release my own music, and continue writing songs that come from the most honest corners of who I am. I also want to stand up for people who feel unseen or underestimated, using my platform to make others feel heard and valued. What drives me is the knowledge that music has the power to connect, to heal, and to inspire change. This scholarship would help me move closer to those goals by easing the sometimes overwhelming financial pressures of college, giving me space to focus on my craft, and allowing me to pursue opportunities that will shape my future. More than that, it would be a reminder that people believe in my journey, and that my efforts to honor my parents’ sacrifices and build a legacy of my own matter. I’m not perfect, and my path hasn’t been simple, but I have heart, determination, and a clear sense of purpose. I’m ready to keep moving forward, using my voice, both literally and figuratively, to make a difference in the world.

As a vocal performance major at Grand Valley State University, I am pursuing a future that blends everything I love about music: performing on Broadway and continuing to grow as a singer songwriter. I’m happiest when I’m onstage telling a story through song, but I’m equally fulfilled when I’m creating stories of my own. I write constantly, and I even have new music tentatively coming out soon…something that still feels unbelievable to me. I chose music because of my upbringing. Growing up wasn’t always easy, and music quickly became the place where I felt safe, understood, and grounded as a person. It gave me a place to be myself with no judgement and to let go of the hurt in my life. It was the one thing that never judged me, never left me, and always gave me a way to express what I didn’t have words for. Whether I’m in the studio surrounded by my own creativity or sitting alone in my bedroom with my guitar, plucking out melodies and figuring things out note by note, music continues to be the space where I can breathe and be myself. And I hope to give that to others as well. Stevie Nicks is one of my biggest role models. Her songwriting is haunting, poetic, and incredibly honest. The vulnerability in her lyrics and the strength in her presence inspire me to write fearlessly and to embrace who I am, even the parts that feel messy or complicated. She reminds me that authenticity is one of the most powerful things an artist can offer. Last year i saw her in concert and it solidified that I want to take music to the next level and be a stand out artist. Another profound influence in my life is my voice teacher, Kathryn Stieler. She pushes me every day to be a stronger musician and a better person. Her guidance has helped me discover parts of my voice both technically and emotionally…that I might never have found on my own. I am deeply grateful for her belief in me and for the way she helps me grow with purpose and confidence. In my career, I want to make an impact on the music and theatre world by being authentically myself, always. I hope to show people that staying true to who you are is not only possible but can be insanely powerful. I also want to stand up for people in the world, especially those who feel unseen, unheard, or underestimated. Through my art, I want to spread compassion, encourage individuality, and use whatever platform I earn to lift others up. When people remember me, I want them to remember me as myself, authentic, honest, funny, and unafraid to speak up for others. I hope they see someone who poured her whole heart into her art and into the people around her. If I can leave behind songs that matter, performances that resonate with the crowd, and a legacy of kindness and courage, then I will have become exactly who I hope to be and I will leave behind a legacy I'm proud of.

Arts education has been the constant thread in my life, the place I always return to, no matter what else is happening in my chaotic life. And no one has shaped that journey more than Sam Richardson, the tall, soft spoken teacher who’s been part of my story since I was three years old. I met Sam at the Flint Youth Theatre, where I took my first acting class. Even then, he stood out to me, not just because he was towering over me and had a silly British accent, but because he truly saw me. While other adults dismissed kids, Sam listened intently. He treated every student like an artist, no matter their age or skill set. Over the years, I kept coming back to his classes and participating in his shows, not just for theatre, but for the way he made me feel capable and valued. Sam pushed me to dig deeper into characters, to trust my instincts, and to find my own truth in performing. He believed in vulnerability as strength, and that lesson has stayed with me, not only on stage, but in life. He always says, “Don’t be afraid to look stupid.” During times when I struggled with confidence or direction, he was there with quiet encouragement, challenging me on without pressure. He gave me room to grow into my own beautiful person, and the courage to be completely silly without fearing judgement. Now, all these years later, I work at the same performing arts school where I grew up. Now Sam is technically my coworker. I’ve sadly aged out of the Flint youth theater programs, but he lets me student direct or help out with some of the shows that they put on. We laugh about it sometimes, how the kid from his beginner classes years ago now helps run rehearsals with a brand new set of actors. It’s a full-circle moment that means the absolute world to me. Sam has never just been a teacher. He’s been a father figure to me. Gentle, steady, someone I can count on, and endlessly kind. He taught me that art isn’t about being perfect, it’s about presence. It’s about creating something honest, something that makes people feel seen. Because of him, I know I want to keep creating and help others find their voice too. Arts education gave me a place to belong. And Sam gave me the courage to believe I deserved to be there.

Living with a compromised immune system and a severe vitamin D deficiency has affected almost every part of my life. While most people bounce back from a cold in a few days, I can be sick for weeks or unfortunately even months. My body recovers slower than most, and often unpredictably, which makes it incredibly hard to stay consistent with the things I love to do. It can be super frustrating, exhausting, and sometimes heartbreaking, especially because my biggest passion, singing, is the first thing I have to give up when I’m sick. I’ve been a singer for as long as I can remember. Music is how I connect with others, express myself, and find purpose in the world. My voice is everything to me, not just artistically, but emotionally. When I lose it, I feel like I lose a piece of who I am at my core. Not being able to sing due to illness leaves me feeling disconnected from myself and from the world around me. Not being able to express my true feelings and thoughts through song. My sophomore year of high school was one of the hardest times of my life. I missed over 50 days of school due to my chronic illness. I spent Christmas in the hospital with scarlet fever, unable to speak and too weak to sit up to enjoy the day. I came dangerously close to having to repeat the school year. not because I wasn’t trying, but because my body physically couldn’t keep up to where my mind was. It was a season full of frustration and isolation. I remember doing homework in bed with fevers, watching my friends and classmates move forward while I was stuck in survival mode. I watched most of my sophomore year through posts made online, seeing what I was missing in person. I’m also a runner and I love to work out, movement helps me stay grounded in hard times and clears my mind. But sometimes, my body just can’t do what my heart wants it to. I’ll feel the drive to go out and move, and my body will say no, I don’t have that kind of energy. That disconnect between what I want and what I’m able to do has been one of the most difficult parts of living with a chronic condition. Especially when movement heals me and gives me peace of mind, not being able to can be super hard on my mental health. Still, through everything, I keep going. I’ve learned that strength doesn’t always mean pushing through. Sometimes it means listening. Sometimes it means resting in bed, even though you really don’t want to. And sometimes it means picking yourself back up again, and again. On the good days, I sing with everything I have, write new melodies on my guitar, and soak in the joy that comes with expressing myself through music. And on the hard days, I remind myself that my worth isn’t tied to how productive I am it’s in how I continue to show up even when its hard. What keeps me going is the hope that my story might help someone else. I know there’s people out there like me who sometimes can do what they love due to chronic illness, I want to use my voice. Whether through music, conversation, or quiet understanding, I want to empower others who feel like their bodies are holding them back from what they want to do. My illness may slow me down, but it will never fully stop me.

The arts are more than just a creative outlet to me and many others they are a lifeline. In both education and community settings, the arts have the power to transform peoples lives, build bridges, and offer healing where words can fall short. For me, they have been a way out of the sadness, and now, a way forward, into a life full of joy, connection, and hope for others. Growing up, I often felt like the world was moving past me, like I was watching life from behind glass. I wasn’t someone who fit in easily, and my home life was often heavy with worry. We struggled financially, and I spent many nights trying to make sense of everything I was going through while reading books by the dim light of an old desk lamp or scribbling poems and doodles in the corners of my notebooks. I carried a lot of sadness as a kid. some of it from the outside world, and some of it from within. But what gave me light in those darker seasons was art and the power to create. Music, books, and small acts of creativity became my refuge and, eventually, my voice. Today, I work at the Flint Institute of Music (FIM), where I’ve spent the past few years years collaborating with music therapists to create programs that combine music, movement, and visual art for students with disabilities. These students have taught me more than I can put into words, more than I expected to learn. I’ve seen a child with autism begin to express emotions through rhythm, and a teenager with anxiety and Down syndrome find peace in dancing. Healing that once seemed impossible is now happening through the arts before my eyes. Working with people who often feel misunderstood or overlooked, I’ve come to understand the deep and universal need to be seen, heard, and celebrated. The arts make that possible for everyone no matter who they are or where they come from. Outside of my job, I use creativity in quiet, intentional ways. I carry sticky notes with me almost everywhere. They are used as a small form of origami paper, Whenever I see a veteran or a child in public, I make them a paper crane. It’s my way of offering joy or gratitude, sometimes both. I’ve made thousands by now, the folds engraved into my hands and brain. I can make them in seconds, and sometimes I leave them in random places. tucked between books at the library, on a café table, the halls of college. hoping someone who needs a little beauty or hope in their day will find it. To me, that’s what art is, a gentle offering that says, “You matter. And You are not alone, I see you.” As a music major, I want to take this mission further. My dream is to develop inclusive arts programs that welcome people of all ages, abilities, and backgrounds. Something that shows art is for everyone. I want to host community workshops, start inclusive performances, and create spaces where creativity can bring healing to others, just as it did for me. I believe in the quiet power of the arts to connect us, to soften us, and to remind us of our shared humanity. I grew up sad. Now, I want to be someone who brings joy to others. Through art, I’ve learned how to turn pain into purpose. And through music, paper cranes, and community, I want to keep sharing that light.

Growing up in Flint, Michigan, my family faced financial hardships. We often relied on food banks to put meals on the table, and there were numerous occasions when our power was shut off due to unpaid bills. People from our church community and family would help us out. These experiences were not just inconveniences; they were daily realities that shaped my understanding of resilience and perseverance.​ Despite these challenges, I remained determined to be the first in my family to pursue my education and build a better future. The scarcity of resources taught me to be resourceful and to value every single opportunity. I learned to study by candlelight and to make the most of what little my family had growing up. These circumstances ignited a passion in me to advocate for those facing similar struggles and to work towards systemic change.​ Currently, I am focused on my academic and professional growth, aiming to enter a field where I can make a tangible impact. I am committed to using my experiences to fuel my ambitions and to inspire others who are facing adversity.​ I want to be a music teacher for low income students and be there for them. I want to make a change in their lives just how my teachers did in mine growing up. This scholarship represents more than just financial assistance… it is a lifeline that will enable me to continue my education without the constant worry of financial instability. It will allow me to focus on my studies and future endeavors, bringing me one step closer to achieving my dreams.​ My experiences have shaped who I am today, a determined individual committed to overcoming adversity and making a difference. This scholarship will empower me to continue my journey toward achieving my dreams changing the world.

I’ve always believed that the arts, especially singing and writing, have a unique power to create human connection. A song can speak the words someone doesn’t know how to say.And a story can make a stranger feel seen in their darkest days. Through my music and my writing, I want to foster that kind of empathy and connection with others, both in my own community and, someday, around the world. This is why getting my education is so important to me. So I can have the opportunity to change the world. As a music major, I’ve spent countless hours training my voice, not just to sing notes, but to tell stories and express the range of human emotion. Being a singer has taught me to listen deeply, feel honestly, and share vulnerability with others in a way that invites the, in. Writing is no different to me. It’s about taking pieces of my lived experience and shaping them into something that resonates with people. Whether it’s through lyrics, essays, or personal stories, I want my voice, both literal and written, to help build understanding between people who might not otherwise relate. My parents didn’t go to college. They didn’t have the privilege of choosing between dream careers or exploring creative passions through higher education. But they’ve always been the smartest, most hardworking people I have known. They showed me what real grit and humility look like. Growing up, I watched them work tirelessly to give me the opportunities they never had. Their sacrifices are the reason I wake up every day determined to make the most of my education and the opportunities I have been given. They taught me that intelligence doesn’t always come with a degree, but if you have the chance to get one, you better use it for something good in the world. That’s why my education is so important to me. Especially in the arts. In a world that sometimes feels harsh and disconnected from each other, the arts give us a way to relate, reflect, and heal our hearts. Music teaches more than technique, it teaches collaboration, empathy, and how to really hold that space for human emotion. Writing teaches us to listen and communicate with compassion and gracefulness. Without access to music theory classes, writing workshops, and the guidance of my professors and role models, I wouldn’t have the tools to grow both creatively and personally. Music allows me to channel my voice into something meaningful and lasting. I don’t take that for granted. One day, I hope to become a teacher, especially for young people who feel like their voices don’t matter. I want to help them use creativity to process their emotions, understand themselves, and connect with the world. Whether it’s in a classroom or a some sort of community center, I want to create a space where students feel seen and safe expressing who they are. Just like I had mentors and role models who helped shape my sense of self and purpose, I want to be that person for someone else, because that is what truly matters. By using my talents in singing and writing, and honoring the lessons my family has taught me. I hope to be part of a global movement that builds bridges instead of walls. One voice, one story, one song at a time.

I’ve always believed that the arts, especially singing and writing—have a unique power to create human connection. A song can speak the words someone doesn’t know how to say. A story can make a stranger feel seen in their darkest days. Through my music and my writing, I want to foster that kind of empathy and connection with others. both in my own community and, hopefully someday, around the world. As a music major, I’ve spent countless hours training my voice, not just to sing notes, but to tell stories and convey every emotion. Being a singer has taught me how to listen deeply, feel honestly, and share vulnerability as an artist in a way that invites others in. Writing is also the same. It’s about taking pieces of my lived experience and shaping them into something that resonates with other people. Whether it’s through lyrics, essays, or stories, I want my voice, both literal and written, to help build understanding between people who might not otherwise relate. My parents didn’t go to college. They didn’t have degrees to hang on the wall, but they showed me every day what real intelligence and grit look like. Watching them work hard every day, sacrificing their dreams so that I could chase mine, taught me to never take my education for granted. Their example gave me my work ethic, my humility, and my drive and passion to make something meaningful out of the opportunities I’ve been given. I will always be so thankful for them. One day, I hope to become a teacher, someone who works with young people, especially those who feel like their voices don’t matter. Ive been working with kids since I was 14, I started as a camp counselor at a music school, and now I am a gymnastics coach. Every day I spend with my kids I try to teach them that they are loved and their voice matters. I want to help my students use their creativity to process emotions, understand themselves, and connect with others. Whether in a classroom or a community center, I want to create a space where young people feel safe expressing who they are. Just like how growing up I always had positive role models to teach me about life, myself, and the world around me. And one day I cant wait to be the head of my own classroom, teaching my kids to use their voice to sing their own song. By using my talents in singing and writing, and by honoring the lessons my family has given me, I hope to be part of a global movement that builds bridges instead of walls between us. one voice, one story, one song at a time.

As a first-generation college student and a music major, receiving a scholarship would be completely life-changing. It would allow me to shift from surviving to thriving, both academically and artistically. My family has always worked incredibly hard, and they’ve passed that onto me. My grandparents immigrated from Germany in search of a better life, and my parents, who didn’t attend college themselves, have given me everything they could possibly give me. Their work ethic and unwavering love are what brought me to go college, and I carry their dreams alongside mine. Pursuing music in higher education comes with a unique set of challenges. There’s a constant demand for time, discipline, and emotional energy, whether it’s long hours in the practice rooms, long rehearsals, performances, or coursework. On top of that, I work around 20 hours a week to support myself. While I love my job, balancing it with school and music commitments is often very overwhelming. A scholarship would ease that harsh burden. It would allow me to reduce my work hours and pour more of myself into my studies, rehearsals, and performances—the things that truly bring me to life. Music is more than just my major. it’s how I express the parts of myself that words can’t quite always reach. It’s how I process the world and emotions, connect with others, and tell stories that truly matter. I hope to use my music not only to perform, but to teach, to inspire, and to uplift others who, like me, are building a path that no one else in their family has walked before. Financial support would make an enormous difference in my life. It would allow me to say “yes” to opportunities like masterclasses, travel for performances, or time spent composing and collaborating, experiences that help shape not just a student, but an artist. Along with paying for books and supplies for school. A scholarship would allow me to move forward with confidence, knowing that I’m supported not just by my family, but by a wider community that believes in my true potential. Being a music major isn’t easy at all. but it’s worth every late night, every early rehearsal, and every note that doesn’t quite land until the hundredth try at it. A scholarship would give me the freedom to keep pushing forward in my career. to refine my craft, and to finally share it with the world. I want to build a future where I can pass that gift of music on to others, whether that’s through performance, education, or my composition. This journey isn’t just about me…it’s about honoring the sacrifices of my family and using my music to create something lasting and meaningful. A scholarship wouldn’t just help pay tuition—it would help me become the musician I dream of being.

Being a woman, I have learned that chasing your dreams often means standing in spaces where we haven’t been invited, and that makes the journey challenging but empowering. I believe I’m worthy of achieving my dreams, not just because I’ve worked hard, but because I bring my passion, resilience, and my voice that deserves to be heard. My dream is to perform in a traveling Broadway show, to sing, dance, and act in a way that moves people and connects them through story and emotion. To some it may sound silly but, to me the arts have always been where I feel most alive. It’s where I feel strong, vulnerable, but still seen. As a woman in a competitive field, I know that this dream won’t be handed to me—but that doesn’t make it any less possible. If anything, it’s made me more determined to prove to myself and others that I belong in that spotlight. Growing up, I watched my parents work incredibly hard without the opportunity of a college degree, and I saw firsthand how that limited their choices. Their perseverance taught me to take education seriously, and to never take any opportunity for granted.I knew since I was a kid that I wanted a degree in my hand. I carry their sacrifices with me as motivation to create a different path, not just for myself, but to honor everything they’ve done for me my whole life. My journey hasn’t been easy. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety for much of my life. In high school, these challenges made me feel like I was drowning, being constantly overwhelmed and afraid. But through therapy, support, and a lot of inner work, I’ve grown into someone who doesn’t let those struggles define me. I’ve learned how to manage my mental health, and I now carry that strength with me into everything I do, and everything I aspire to be. Even while working part time and studying full-time, I make time for the things that bring me joy, singing, writing, reading, and ceramics. These creative outlets help me stay grounded and remind me of who I am beyond school. They’re also reminders of why I’m chasing this dream in the first place… because I have something to say, and I want to say it through my art. Being a woman means facing loads of challenges and going through a lot of ups and downs. being underestimated, overlooked, or expected to shrink to fit a mold. But I’ve learned that there’s power in taking up space, in being bold, and in believing in yourself even when others may not. I am worthy of my dreams because I’ve constantly fought for them. I’ve shown up on those hard days, chosen growth over comfortability, and believed in something bigger than my current circumstances. My dreams aren’t just about me. They’re about proving that young women can rise. And I intend to do just that.

I feel my most creative late at night, when the world is still and quiet. It’s the time when my thoughts are uninterrupted, and my emotions can come and go freely. That’s when I do my best work, whether I’m shaping air dry clay at home with my hands or writing something raw and honest in in my notes app.. Creativity isn’t something I force; it’s something I feel. To me it’s an emotion, And when I feel it, it comes from deep within. As a first-generation college student and a young woman, my art is inseparable from my identity. I carry the legacy of my family in everything I create. My Oma and Opa immigrated from Germany with nothing but a dream of a better life. Their strength and resilience built the foundation I now have a privilege to stand on. My parents didn’t go to college, but they’ve worked tirelessly to give me every opportunity they didn’t have. They’ve taught me that hard work, humility, and love can build a life even without a roadmap. That story… their story is in everything I make, and I want to make them proud. Ceramics allows me to be grounded. When I’m at the wheel or sculpting with my hands, I feel fully present. Clay responds to emotion. If I’m anxious, it knows. If I’m calm and focused, the piece grows with intention. I love the rawness of it, the way each fingerprint stays, each dent or wobble becomes part of the final piece. How it does what I tell it too with my hands. I don’t aim for perfection. I aim for truth in my work. My ceramics are an extension of me, complete with flaws, texture, softness, and strength. I know I’m not the best and my work isn’t perfect, that’s part of the fun For me writing offers a different kind of release. It’s where I process the world around me. my fears, hopes, grief, love. It helps me untangle complicated emotions and gives shape to the things I can’t always say out loud in the open. I write about the pressure of being the first in my family to walk a path none of us fully understand. I write about what it means to be a woman in spaces where you often have to prove your worth twice to people. My words help me claim space and give voice to experiences that can feel invisible. What ties both ceramics and writing together for me is vulnerability. Both ask me to show up fully. Both require me to pay attention to detail, to emotion, to my intention. And both have helped me better understand who I am and where I come from. I create to connect with myself, with others, with my past and my future. I cant wait to continue creating every day that I am lucky to live. My art is not always loud or showy, but it’s always honest and raw. It’s rooted in memory, in identity, in family, and in hope. Every piece I make, whether it’s a small ceramic cup or a paragraph of writing, holds something personal of mine. A reminder. A story. Whatever happened to me the day I made it. Or a feeling I didn’t know how to name until I let myself create. Art has taught me that being vulnerable is brave. That softness can be strength. And that through creating, I can continue me and my family’s story while carving out a space that’s entirely my own.

Growing up Reading wasn’t just something I did for fun, it was how I explored the world. Stories were the foundation of my childhood, they shaped the way I think, feel, and dream. As a child, I would stay up late reading with a dingy little reading lamp my mom got me. That lamp and the books I read under it became my whole world. I’d hide under the covers and live in the world of books. I’d start a revolution with Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games, or learn how to start a fire with Sam on My Side of the Mountain. I lived under the covers, creating new worlds every night. Out of all the books I’ve read, none has stayed with me the way The Goldfinch, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, The Bell Jar, and Slaughterhouse-Five have. I read The Goldfinch as a sophomore in high school, Theo Decker’s world of loss and survival mirrored my own quiet struggles. I found myself in him. Like Theo, I was learning how to cope with the weight of things I couldn’t control. His journey through trauma and search for meaning met me exactly where I was. Reading about Theo gave me comfort in the midst of chaos. And showed that resilience can turn tragedy into tremendous strength. Junior year, I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and Francie Nolan’s character transformed me. I was struck by her determination and fierce intelligence in the face of constant hardship. Francie met me at a time when I was beginning to understand the power of education, hard work, and perseverance. Francie Nolan was my best friend my junior year, and I’m so glad I had her friendship and learned from her. In my senior year, The Bell Jar met me at a time when I was questioning my future and what path I should take through college. Esther Greenwood’s paralysis in the face of endless possibilities felt so familiar, especially the image of the fig tree, each fig representing a different life she could lead. I was overwhelmed by the pressure of making the "right" choice for my future. But Esther helped me realize that it’s okay to not have everything figured out, and that uncertainty is part of the process. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut taught me valuable lessons in writing. Vonnegut’s distinctive style, sharp wit, fragmented narrative, and dark humor taught me that writing doesn’t have to follow traditional rules or structure to be effective. His ability to mix the absurd with deep philosophical insights influenced the way I express myself through writing. Vonnegut showed me that storytelling could be as unconventional as it needed to be, and that freedom allowed for greater creativity and authenticity in my work. Each year, these characters met me where I was in life. The Goldfinch taught me to survive and find meaning through pain. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn gave me the courage to persevere and work toward my dreams. The Bell Jar showed me that it’s okay to feel lost sometimes and that life is a journey of self-discovery. Slaughterhouse-Five taught me that writing doesn’t have to be conventional to be powerful. These characters have shaped the way I approach challenges and my future, and they continue to inspire me. Books have always been more than stories to me—they’ve been teachers, companions, and guides. They’ve inspired me to write and never put the pen down. The lessons I’ve learned will continue to shape who I am, and the legacy I hope to create. And I will never close the book.

As a first-generation college student and a young woman, I’ve had to find strength in places where it wasn’t easily given. My identity is shaped by the quiet resilience of my family—especially my Oma and Opa, who immigrated from Germany in search of a better life. They worked tirelessly to build stability from nothing, and their story reminds me that perseverance can create opportunity where none seems to exist. They inspire me every day, and I miss them dearly. My parents didn’t have the chance to attend college, but they’ve given me everything they could—endless love, support, and a work ethic that’s rare in my generation. I grew up watching them pour their energy into giving me a better life, often sacrificing their own dreams. I know how much they wish they’d earned a degree, and that motivates me. I’m not just working toward my goals—I’m honoring theirs. Being a woman in college brings its own challenges, especially when no one in your family has walked this path before. I’m the first, and sometimes that means figuring it out alone. But I’ve learned to speak up, stay grounded, and believe that I belong—even when it’s hard. My identity has taught me to lead with empathy, stay determined, and use education as a tool for change—not just for myself, but for my family and the future children I hope to inspire. This journey isn’t just about a degree—it’s my family’s legacy in motion.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of performing on a stage. When I was little I’d set my stuffed animals up in a crowd and perform for them. Ever since I’ve been chasing a real stage with a real audience to perform to. But not just on any stage, a traveling Broadway show. I want to sing, dance, and act in cities all across the country, maybe even around the globe. I want to share stories with people through performance, to make them feel something real, something that moves them. But more than anything, I want my mom to see me up there, doing what I love. When I was younger, some of my favorite memories were summer drives with my mom. We’d roll the windows down, let the wind rush in, and blast show tunes as loud as we could. Like songs from “Grease”, her favorite musical. We sang summer lovin, me taking the lead and her being my backup vocals. We were absolute stars in that car. In those moments, everything felt perfect, and I just knew I couldn’t live a life without music and theater in it. I dream of being on stage in a show, performing those same songs, knowing she’s in the audience watching me. That’s the dream I’m chasing. People have doubted me. They’ve told me that dreams like Broadway aren’t realistic, that I should find something more practical. Get a more “useful” degree… But I can’t ignore the passion I feel when I perform. It’s how I express who I am and connect with others in a way that feels bigger than words. It’s not just a hobby—it’s my calling. It hurts when people say those things to me. That my dream can’t be a real career. And that’s why I want to prove them wrong. Being part of a traveling Broadway show would let me see the world while doing what fills me with true purpose. I want to prove to myself, and to everyone who ever doubted me, that I absolutely can do this. And more than anything, I want my mom to see me living the dream we used to sing about in the car.

Being a woman, I have learned that chasing your dreams often means standing in spaces where we haven’t been invited, and that makes the journey challenging but empowering. I believe I’m worthy of achieving my dreams, not just because I’ve worked hard, but because I bring my passion, resilience, and my voice that deserves to be heard. My dream is to perform in a traveling Broadway show, to sing, dance, and act in a way that moves people and connects them through story and emotion. To some it may sound silly but, to me the arts have always been where I feel most alive. It’s where I feel strong, vulnerable, but still seen. As a woman in a competitive field, I know that this dream won’t be handed to me—but that doesn’t make it any less possible. If anything, it’s made me more determined to prove to myself and others that I belong in that spotlight. Growing up, I watched my parents work incredibly hard without the opportunity of a college degree, and I saw firsthand how that limited their choices. Their perseverance taught me to take education seriously, and to never take any opportunity for granted.I knew since I was a kid that I wanted a degree in my hand. I carry their sacrifices with me as motivation to create a different path, not just for myself, but to honor everything they’ve done for me my whole life. My journey hasn’t been easy. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety for much of my life. In high school, these challenges made me feel like I was drowning, being constantly overwhelmed and afraid. But through therapy, support, and a lot of inner work, I’ve grown into someone who doesn’t let those struggles define me. I’ve learned how to manage my mental health, and I now carry that strength with me into everything I do, and everything I aspire to be. Even while working part time and studying full-time, I make time for the things that bring me joy, singing, writing, reading, and ceramics. These creative outlets help me stay grounded and remind me of who I am beyond school. They’re also reminders of why I’m chasing this dream in the first place… because I have something to say, and I want to say it through my art. Being a woman means facing loads of challenges and going through a lot of ups and downs. being underestimated, overlooked, or expected to shrink to fit a mold. But I’ve learned that there’s power in taking up space, in being bold, and in believing in yourself even when others may not. I am worthy of my dreams because I’ve constantly fought for them. I’ve shown up on those hard days, chosen growth over comfortability, and believed in something bigger than my current circumstances. My dreams aren’t just about me. They’re about proving that young women can rise. And I intend to do just that.

For most of my high school years, I lived under a constant cloud of depression and anxiety. Every day was a battle, one that I often fought in silence. I was overwhelmed by sadness, paralyzed by fear, and unsure of how to break free from the weight I carried with me every singleday. I was young and I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me at the time. All I knew was that I felt different from everyone else, isolated, and exhausted. Smiling felt like a chore. Going to school felt impossible at times. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong so with me. Anxiety made even the smallest tasks feel terrifying. I second-guessed everything I said or did, constantly fearing judgment or failure. School was a nightmare. I walked through the hallways and it felt like everyone was staring at me. Noticing everything wrong with me. Every single flaw. Depression made it difficult to find joy in things I used to love. I spent a lot of time pretending I was okay, but inside, I was struggling just to keep my head above water. I felt like I was drowning and I didnt know why. It affected my friendships, my school performance, and most importantly, how I saw myself. I felt stuck in a cycle I didn’t know how to escape. Things started to change when I began therapy and started taking medication. At first, it was scary to ask for help. I worried it meant I was weak. Asking for help felt like validating every flaw and every bad thing i thought about myself. But over time, I realized that reaching out was one of the bravest things I could do. Through therapy, I learned how to manage my anxiety and challenge the negative thoughts that held me back. The medication helped stabilize my moods and gave me enough mental clarity to start healing. My therapist has been a light in my life and i am so glad to have her. She validates everything I feel and makes feel like I matter. Now that I’m in my first year of college, I still face challenges, but I no longer let them define me. I’ve come a long way from the person I was in high school. I’ve learned how to take care of myself mentally and emotionally. I’ve built healthier habits and surrounded myself with support from family and friends. I dont let my fear define me. Most importantly, I’ve learned that struggling doesn’t make me broken. it makes me human. Depression and anxiety are still part of my story, but they don’t control my life anymore in the ways they used to. I’m proud of how far I’ve come as a person, and I’m even more proud that I didn’t give up on myself when things felt hopeless. Every day, I choose to keep going, to keep healing, and to keep believing that I deserve happiness and peace. And that choice has made all the difference. I cannot wait to share my story every day that I live and try to help people who are in the position I used to be in. Because everyone matters and everyone deserves the chance at true happiness.

For most of my high school years, I lived under a constant cloud of depression and anxiety. Every day was a battle, one that I often fought in silence. I was overwhelmed by sadness, paralyzed by fear, and unsure of how to break free from the weight I carried with me every singleday. I was young and I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me at the time. All I knew was that I felt different from everyone else, isolated, and exhausted. Smiling felt like a chore. Going to school felt impossible at times. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong so with me. Anxiety made even the smallest tasks feel terrifying. I second-guessed everything I said or did, constantly fearing judgment or failure. School was a nightmare. I walked through the hallways and it felt like everyone was staring at me. Noticing everything wrong with me. Every single flaw. Depression made it difficult to find joy in things I used to love. I spent a lot of time pretending I was okay, but inside, I was struggling just to keep my head above water. I felt like I was drowning and I didnt know why. It affected my friendships, my school performance, and most importantly, how I saw myself. I felt stuck in a cycle I didn’t know how to escape. Things started to change when I began therapy and started taking medication. At first, it was scary to ask for help. I worried it meant I was weak. Asking for help felt like validating every flaw and every bad thing i thought about myself. But over time, I realized that reaching out was one of the bravest things I could do. Through therapy, I learned how to manage my anxiety and challenge the negative thoughts that held me back. The medication helped stabilize my moods and gave me enough mental clarity to start healing. My therapist has been a light in my life and i am so glad to have her. She validates everything I feel and makes feel like I matter. Now that I’m in my first year of college, I still face challenges, but I no longer let them define me. I’ve come a long way from the person I was in high school. I’ve learned how to take care of myself mentally and emotionally. I’ve built healthier habits and surrounded myself with support from family and friends. I dont let my fear define me. Most importantly, I’ve learned that struggling doesn’t make me broken. it makes me human. Depression and anxiety are still part of my story, but they don’t control my life anymore in the ways they used to. I’m proud of how far I’ve come as a person, and I’m even more proud that I didn’t give up on myself when things felt hopeless. Every day, I choose to keep going, to keep healing, and to keep believing that I deserve happiness and peace. And that choice has made all the difference. I cannot wait to share my story every day that I live and try to help people who are in the position I used to be in. Because everyone matters and everyone deserves the chance at true happiness.

For as long as I can remember, music, movement, and storytelling have been the way I understand the world the best. Singing, dancing, and acting are more than just hobbies for me, they are the deepest expressions of who I am at the core. But beyond my love for performing, there’s also a more grounded motivation that drives me… I want to earn my degree because I’ve seen how hard life can be without one. My journey is fueled by passion, but also by a bigger purpose. I’m chasing something big, a career in the arts, and one day, a spot in a traveling Broadway show—and I know that education is a critical part of that dream. But more than anything I want to be the first in my family o earn that degree and make my parents proud. Watching my parents work incredibly hard just to make ends meet has shaped the way I see the world. They’re smart, driven people, but without college degrees, they’ve had to fight so hard for everything they have. They have worked day in and day out to provide a good life for me. There were moments growing up when money was tight, or they had to work multiple jobs just to get by. I could see how much they sacrificed for me to have a chance at something more. That’s why getting a degree to me is more than a piece of paper. it's a symbol of everything they’ve given me and everything I want to give back to them. I want to build a future where I’m not constantly fighting to stay afloat. I want stability, independence, and the ability to pursue my passion without being held back. Even when life was tough, the arts were always there. Performing is where I feel most alive when I walk out onto the stage and the lights hit me its like no other. It’s where I find joy, freedom, and connection. I love how music and theater can take people out of their everyday lives and transport them somewhere completely different. It’s not just entertainment to me. It’s healing, it’s truth, it’s life. And has helped me through my darkest days. Every time I step on stage, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. That passion fuels me through every late-night rehearsal, every audition, every challenge. I’m pursuing the arts because it’s the one thing I can’t imagine living without. My biggest dream is to be part of a traveling Broadway production. I want to bring stories to life for people all across the country. For me, It’s not about fame or the spotlight. It’s about the experience of creating something powerful and sharing it with new audiences. I know the path to Broadway isn’t easy. But I’m more than ready for it. That’s why I’m here, why I’m studying, why I’m working, why I’m dreaming so big. Because I know I cant live without it. My journey is built on a foundation of love, for my family, for the arts, and for the future I want to create. Earning a degree means honoring where I come from and stepping confidently where I’m going. Pursuing the arts is how I stay true to myself and bring joy and connection to the world. And reaching Broadway is the dream that keeps me going. I’m not just chasing a career. I’m chasing a life filled with meaning. That’s what pushes me, and that’s what I’m working every day to achieve. https://youtube.com/shorts/cCqByVVMyc8?si=0fYnKM1ZbkiUwOE1

For as long as I can remember, music, movement, and storytelling have been the way I understand the world the best. Singing, dancing, and acting are more than just hobbies for me, they are the deepest expressions of who I am at the core. But beyond my love for performing, there’s also a more grounded motivation that drives me… I want to earn my degree because I’ve seen how hard life can be without one. My journey is fueled by passion, but also by a bigger purpose. I’m chasing something big, a career in the arts, and one day, a spot in a traveling Broadway show—and I know that education is a critical part of that dream. But more than anything I want to be the first in my family o earn that degree and make my parents proud. Watching my parents work incredibly hard just to make ends meet has shaped the way I see the world. They’re smart, driven people, but without college degrees, they’ve had to fight so hard for everything they have. They have worked day in and day out to provide a good life for me. There were moments growing up when money was tight, or they had to work multiple jobs just to get by. I could see how much they sacrificed for me to have a chance at something more. That’s why getting a degree to me is more than a piece of paper. it's a symbol of everything they’ve given me and everything I want to give back to them. I want to build a future where I’m not constantly fighting to stay afloat. I want stability, independence, and the ability to pursue my passion without being held back. Even when life was tough, the arts were always there. Performing is where I feel most alive when I walk out onto the stage and the lights hit me its like no other. It’s where I find joy, freedom, and connection. I love how music and theater can take people out of their everyday lives and transport them somewhere completely different. It’s not just entertainment to me. It’s healing, it’s truth, it’s life. And has helped me through my darkest days. Every time I step on stage, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. That passion fuels me through every late-night rehearsal, every audition, every challenge. I’m pursuing the arts because it’s the one thing I can’t imagine living without. My biggest dream is to be part of a traveling Broadway production. I want to bring stories to life for people all across the country. For me, It’s not about fame or the spotlight. It’s about the experience of creating something powerful and sharing it with new audiences. I know the path to Broadway isn’t easy. But I’m more than ready for it. That’s why I’m here, why I’m studying, why I’m working, why I’m dreaming so big. Because I know I cant live without it. My journey is built on a foundation of love, for my family, for the arts, and for the future I want to create. Earning a degree means honoring where I come from and stepping confidently where I’m going. Pursuing the arts is how I stay true to myself and bring joy and connection to the world. And reaching Broadway is the dream that keeps me going. I’m not just chasing a career. I’m chasing a life filled with meaning. That’s what pushes me, and that’s what I’m working every day to achieve.

Through both my singing and my writing, I try to reach people on an emotional level—especially when it comes to feelings that are hard to put into words. There are certain emotions that we all experience—grief, hope, nostalgia, quiet joy—but they don’t always come with language that feels like enough. That’s where music and writing come in for me. They allow me to explore those in-between places and bring them to life in a way that feels honest and human. When I sing, I’m not just performing notes or lyrics—I’m telling a story, sometimes mine and sometimes someone else’s, but always with the intention of making someone feel something real and something they can truly connect to. I want the listener to hear something in my voice that reminds them of a moment in their own life, something they maybe haven’t thought about in a long time or maybe even something they think about every day. It’s not always about big dramatic feelings… sometimes it’s the subtle, familiar ones that stay with us the longest and mean the absolute most. The same goes for my writing. Whether I’m working on poetry, journaling, or something more structured and formal, I’m trying to express thoughts and emotions that often sit just below the surface. Something that even though is close to us can be hard to reach.I believe that when we share those parts of ourselves through words, music, or any kind of art, we create space and opportunities for others to do the same. It becomes a conversation, even if it’s unspoken. Being the first person to share these feelings makes others feel like they too can share and speak out. Ultimately, my goal in both singing and writing is to connect to everyone. No matter who they are. I want to remind people that they’re not alone in what they feel, and that even the emotions we struggle to put a name to are valid, important, and worth expressing. If I can offer someone that kind of moment, even briefly, then I feel like I’ve done something so meaningful. And that is the positive impact i want to leave the world with.