I almost died twice. Once at birth and again at 13 when I was unexpectedly pulled out of school and went straight to a hospital bed. After a flurry of needles, tests, confusion, and a search for any answers, I was diagnosed as a type one diabetic. In a time of confusion, I almost stopped my daily orchestra classes and left a hobby of music behind. Fortunately, Mr. Briere didn’t let that happen, and I truly began exploring my artistry, joining the orchestra, choir, and band at my school. My involvement in music became an outlet of expression to deal with the stress of managing my life-threatening illness and a distressing transition into high school. Now, it is my life’s focus. I realized that life is fragile, and I plan to live without regret. This is why my drive for music has been a brick on the gas pedal for the last few years, and attending Berklee College of Music has accelerated me more. In high school, I set school records, pushed the boundaries of music involvement, and participated in every ensemble I could, including founding a competitive barbershop quartet, which has continued since. At Berklee, I direct multiple bands and try to involve myself with every opportunity, which has already given me incredibly unique performance experiences. While pursuing my future in music directing, I will continue to make an impact at my school, as I did in high school, so that I emerge as someone who made a difference and is capable of doing so professionally. The skills I have learned through many broad experiences will carry me through training at Berklee, and I will succeed. I strive to learn because I love getting better; tie this into my formal musical training, and I am the musician of my dreams who can do it all. I can be the composer and musical director who understands music on a deep level—a level where I can be a vessel for musical appreciation to my audiences and fellow musicians. Art is made to be shared, and I intend to create the most impactful works I can throughout my life. I want to leave a legacy that inspires people to fight against what is thrown at them, where people can look to me as proof that anyone has the power to pursue their dreams. I want to bring the highest forms of human expression to a new level where lives are changed just by watching a spectacular show. I hope that the people I knew growing up can be happy to have known me, and future students in my school’s music program will hear my name and feel empowered. Music pulls me to a haven of security where I am my complete self, not consumed, but freed to explore my artistry. Music gave me a respite and a place to grow, learn, make friends, experience new things, and endure the harsh realities that high school threw at me. It made me strong enough to continue to share my music with the world, or just one kid scared in a hospital bed.

I almost died twice. Once at birth and again at 13 when I was diagnosed as a type one diabetic entering high school. My involvement in music became an outlet of expression to deal with the stress of managing my life-threatening illness. Music saved me amid a global pandemic suffering isolation, loss of friends, and a distressing transition into high school where I nearly lost music. In tenth grade, I stopped my once-daily orchestra classes. Fortunately, Mr. Briere didn’t let that happen and kept music in my life. Since 9th grade, I have been attending music class at least once a day, and twice a day for the last two years—hard to do at my school. My drive for music has been a brick on the gas pedal for the last few years, and my skills have become everything about me. I contributed to every extracurricular music group I could, including starting a competitive barbershop quartet, which is set up to continue even after I left. I perform in ten active music ensembles, four of which I hold a leadership position, and four I have written or arranged for. I will pursue music and I know that it will remain as prominent as it is now for the remainder of my life. My ability to adapt and my incredibly strong foundation in music and performing arts will give me an edge in my college training and career. My growth as a musician and a person have interlaced through the last four years, as every new experience teaches me more and opens new doors. I have experienced the hard work, pressure, and reward of getting paid for my art, competing for huge titles, and winning and losing them. As I pursue modern music, where I look to harness my drive of leadership as a musical director, I will move away from my school background of performing classical works. The skills I have learned through exploring music on my own will absolutely carry me through training at Berklee, and I will succeed. Not once have I received instruction on music production—or been taught how to perform songs with a guitar—but bits and pieces that I infer and put together have taught me a valuable amount. Tie this into my formal musical training, and I am the musician of my dreams who can do it all, and be the composer and musical director who understands music on a deep level—a level where I can be a vessel for musical appreciation to my audiences and fellow musicians. Music pulls me to a haven of security where I am my complete self, not consumed, but freed to explore my artistry. My diabetes and realization that life is short and fragile push me to become a better version of myself. I never struggle to consistently practice and grow, never taking the brick out from under my foot, which helps me go just a little faster to an ever-moving finish line that I never want to see. Music saved me. It gave me a respite and a place to grow, learn, make friends, experience new things, and endure the harsh realities that high school threw at me.

I almost died twice. Once at birth and again at 13 when I was diagnosed as a type one diabetic entering high school. My involvement in music became an outlet of expression to deal with the stress of managing my life-threatening illness. Music saved me amid a global pandemic suffering isolation, loss of friends, and a distressing transition into high school where I nearly lost music. In tenth grade, I stopped my once-daily orchestra classes. Fortunately, Mr. Briere didn’t let that happen and kept music in my life. Since 9th grade, I have been attending music class at least once a day, and twice a day for the last two years—hard to do at my school. My drive for music has been a brick on the gas pedal for the last few years, and my skills have become everything about me. I contributed to every extracurricular music group I could, including starting a competitive barbershop quartet, which is set up to continue even after I left. I perform in ten active music ensembles, four of which I hold a leadership position, and four I have written or arranged for. I will pursue music and I know that it will remain as prominent as it is now for the remainder of my life. My ability to adapt and my incredibly strong foundation in music and performing arts will give me an edge in my college training and career. I have experienced the hard work, pressure, and reward of getting paid for my art, competing for huge titles, and winning and losing them. As I pursue modern music, where I look to harness my drive of leadership as a musical director, I will move away from my school background of performing classical works. The skills I have learned through exploring music on my own will absolutely carry me through training at Berklee, and I will succeed. Not once have I received instruction on music production—or been taught how to perform songs with a guitar—but bits and pieces that I infer and put together have taught me a valuable amount. Tie this into my formal musical training, and I am the musician of my dreams who can do it all, and be the composer and musical director who understands music on a deep level—a level where I can be a vessel for musical appreciation to my audiences and fellow musicians. I want to leave a legacy that inspires people to fight against what is thrown at them, where people can look to me as proof that anyone has the power to pursue their dreams. I hope that the people I knew growing up can be happy to have known me, and future students in my school’s music program will hear my name and feel empowered. Music pulls me to a haven of security where I am my complete self, not consumed, but freed to explore my artistry. Music gave me a respite and a place to grow, learn, make friends, experience new things, and endure the harsh realities that high school threw at me. It made me strong enough to continue to share my music with the world, or just one kid scared in a hospital bed. https://youtu.be/-afeDG5HKvI?si=v_5DiCv-qjI9NSeB

I have almost died twice. At birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I saw the faces of and felt the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. When I left, I was diagnosed with the chronic autoimmune disease, type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: I want to have that impact on others, not as an athlete, but as a musician. Social media is the forum of my generation and these platforms are launchpads for careers and ideas. Much of my time creating content was spent trying to hit an unattainable bar, where I achieved enormous success instantly. Not getting the feedback I imagined, my self-esteem was hit hard. I am competitive with myself, I have always been disciplined, and the expectations I set are high, driving me to practice, perform, and improve. I soon reconciled that there are more important numbers to watch than any video statistic. When the expectations I had with my online content became about my health, I reevaluated my focus. I realized I had more to offer than only on a screen. With an extra hole in my hourglass, I have grown more conscious of where the sand falls. I know that I will share music with the world, but my voice can only carry me as far as my mind and body allow. The path forward will be to fine-tune my skills with self-awareness to overcome obstacles and become a well-rounded ambassador for music. I love how music makes me feel, completely transformed by a unique sound arrangement. I need to share this feeling and improve people’s lives, as mine had been by the university athletes. For the past four years, I have tried, touring the country, learning numerous instruments, writing and arranging songs, and since tenth grade, singing in five vocal ensembles. That dedication to improvement is something I carry in my music, academics, and life. That is why I am pursuing a higher education. I want to learn and grow endlessly to inspire others to strive for themselves. I am stronger, familiarizing myself with an illness that left me no choice and dedicated to improving my music. I have learned the importance of improving all aspects of knowledge, instead of focusing on one, because to share my story with others means to share my lessons. The hourglass still loses sand, and the bar is still daunting at times, but it hovers in a way that reminds me to look upward toward the future where I will ever be smarter and wiser. Strong enough to continue to share my music with the world, or just one kid scared in a hospital bed.

I have almost died twice. At birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I saw the faces of and felt the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. When I left, I was diagnosed with the chronic autoimmune disease, type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: I want to have that impact on others, not as an athlete, but as a musician. Social media is the forum of my generation and these platforms are launchpads for careers and ideas. Much of my time creating content was spent trying to hit an unattainable bar, where I achieved enormous success instantly. Not getting the feedback I imagined, my self-esteem was hit hard. I am competitive with myself, I have always been disciplined, and the expectations I set are high, driving me to practice, perform, and improve. I soon reconciled that there are more important numbers to watch than any video statistic. When the same expectations I had with my online content became about my health, I reconsidered everything and reevaluated my focus. I found clarity and realized I had more to offer than only on a screen. With an extra hole in my hourglass, I have grown more conscious of where the sand falls. I know that I will share music with the world, but my voice can only carry me as far as my mind and body allow. The path forward will be to fine-tune my skills with self-awareness to overcome obstacles and become a well-rounded ambassador for music. I love the way music makes me feel, completely embodied and transformed by a unique arrangement of sound. I need to share this feeling and improve people’s lives, as mine had been by the university athletes. For the past four years, I have tried, touring the country, learning numerous instruments, writing and arranging songs, and since tenth grade, singing in five vocal ensembles. I want more than training for a job or career; I want to learn and grow endlessly to inspire others to strive for themselves. I am stronger, familiarizing myself with an illness that left me no choice and dedicated to improving my music. I have learned the importance of improving all aspects of knowledge because to share my story with others means to share my lessons. To achieve this, I need to overcome obstacles of my health, primarily cost. In addition to the constant pain experienced from needles I can't live without, I must face an additional $15,000 annually to cover supplies to stay alive. I will endure this obstacle my whole life, but attending school looms daily. My family received a large one-time bonus as compensation for a devastating event with my dad’s job, leading to our financial aid being severely reduced. Despite this, I need more help to pay for school that will not be covered by aid and cannot be paid with the money we received. I seek support to climb mountains that will further my musical abilities so I can give back and make the world a better place. I will reach my goals and prove there are no binds that cannot be broken. I will live to inspire others facing lifelong health conditions like mine, from stadium crowds to scared kids in hospital beds.

I almost died twice. Once at birth and again at 13 when I was diagnosed as a type one diabetic entering high school. My involvement in music became an outlet of expression to deal with the stress of managing my life-threatening illness. Music saved me amid a global pandemic suffering isolation, loss of friends, and a distressing transition into high school where I nearly lost music. In tenth grade, I stopped my once-daily orchestra classes. Fortunately, Mr. Briere didn’t let that happen and kept music in my life. Since 9th grade, I have been attending music class at least once a day, and twice a day for the last two years—hard to do at my school. In these two years, I have taken on everything there is to take on in modern music. This means spending hours learning and practicing delivering this art to people. One avenue of sharing this music is teaching. I teach private mandolin and guitar lessons to students eager to learn—often referred by my school music teachers. As someone their age who learned most of his instruments from the internet and inference, I can relate to their needs and provide an authentic learning experience. Senior year, I took on the role of mentoring freshmen in my school’s youngest choir. Here, I served as an assistant to my teacher and a role model for younger students. I can talk to them as a friend, which means helping, supporting, and watching them grow on a different level than any adult teacher, offering the best advice and encouragement I can. As a writer and producer, I have used my skills to bring over 30 different original pieces of music to this world. In my school alone, I have written 14 unique pieces that were performed in our auditorium, around the school on Valentine’s Day, and at two commencement ceremonies. Producing, I create the mix of an entire band. I can track instruments to perfection, record vocals to convey a meaningful message and be the captain of my songs with the power of mixing and mastering. This skill has allowed me to digitally create over 20 tracks from scratch and over 100 covers of songs. I post these covers almost daily on social media, which expands my horizons to an audience of unlimited size. Despite my ability to make any instrument truly sing, there is no purer form of music than real singing itself. I have been one of twelve MSVMA All-State soloists twice (in 2023 and 2024), which has allowed me to share my art with the biggest audiences and connect with the best musicians. The emotion of choral singing strengthens my passion for music daily and fosters a love stronger than any other—a love that I need to share with as many people as possible. I understand the fragility and beauty of life, and I plan to use mine to improve as many people’s lives as possible. There is nothing like the performing experience except when the performance is shared by all in the room. Music makes us laugh, love, shout, and cry, evoking emotion like nothing else. That makes me human and encourages me to transform myself into a melody that will touch all.

I have almost died twice. I replay the events of these days over and over like the text of a song. I almost died at birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I saw the faces of and felt the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. When I left, I was diagnosed with the chronic autoimmune disease, type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: having that impact on others. Not as an athlete, but as a musician who can use his talents and skills to lift others. Before this shift, I believed creating YouTube videos would be my future. Much of my time creating content was spent trying to hit an unattainable bar. Not getting the feedback I imagined, my self-esteem was hit hard. Soon, I realized that only being a YouTuber would not fulfill me or my goals. I am competitive with myself, I am disciplined, and the expectations I set are high. Those expectations drive me to practice, perform, and improve. I soon reconciled that there are more important numbers to watch than any video statistic. When the same expectations I had with my online content became about my health, I reevaluated my focus. I found clarity, realizing I had more to offer than only on a screen. With an extra hole in my hourglass, I have grown more conscious of where the sand falls. I know I will share music with the world, but my voice can only carry me as far as my body allows. The path forward will be to fine-tune my skills with self-awareness to overcome obstacles and become a well-rounded ambassador for music. I love the way music makes me feel, completely embodied and transformed by a unique arrangement of sound. I need to share this feeling and improve people’s lives, as mine had been by the university athletes. For the past four years, I have tried, touring the country, learning nine unique instruments, writing and arranging songs, and since tenth grade, singing in seven vocal ensembles. I began using these skills to play live music in downtown Ann Arbor on weekends while spending the majority of my time listening and learning whatever I could to find what I could apply to myself. My experiences have taught me that no matter how much growth I achieve, there is always room for more. That dedication is something I carry in my music, academics, and life, and that is why I am pursuing a higher education. I want more than training for a job or career; I want to learn and grow endlessly to inspire others to strive for themselves. I am stronger, familiarizing myself with an illness that left me no choice and dedicated to improving my music. I have learned the importance of improving all aspects of knowledge, instead of focusing on one, to the detriment of others, because to share my story with others means to share my lessons. The hourglass still loses sand, and the bar is still daunting at times, but it hovers in a way that reminds me to look upward toward the future where I will ever be smarter and wiser. Strong enough to continue to share my music with the world, or just one kid scared in a hospital bed.

I have almost died twice. At birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I saw the faces of and felt the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. When I left, I was diagnosed with the chronic autoimmune disease, type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: I want to have that impact on others, not as an athlete, but as a musician. Social media is the forum of my generation and these platforms are launchpads for careers and ideas. Much of my time creating content was spent trying to hit an unattainable bar, where I achieved enormous success instantly. Not getting the feedback I imagined, my self-esteem was hit hard. I am competitive with myself, I have always been disciplined, and the expectations I set are high, driving me to practice, perform, and improve. I soon reconciled that there are more important numbers to watch than any video statistic. When the same expectations I had with my online content became about my health, I reconsidered everything and reevaluated my focus. I found clarity and realized I had more to offer than only on a screen. With an extra hole in my hourglass, I have grown more conscious of where the sand falls. I know that I will share music with the world, but my voice can only carry me as far as my mind and body allow. The path forward will be to fine-tune my skills with self-awareness to overcome obstacles and become a well-rounded ambassador for music. I love the way music makes me feel, completely embodied and transformed by a unique arrangement of sound. I need to share this feeling and improve people’s lives, as mine had been by the university athletes. For the past four years, I have tried, touring the country, learning numerous instruments, writing and arranging songs, and since tenth grade, singing in five vocal ensembles. I want more than training for a job or career; I want to learn and grow endlessly to inspire others to strive for themselves. I am stronger, familiarizing myself with an illness that left me no choice and dedicated to improving my music. I have learned the importance of improving all aspects of knowledge because to share my story with others means to share my lessons. To achieve this, I need to overcome obstacles of my health, primarily cost. In addition to the constant pain experienced from needles I can't live without, I must face an additional $15,000 annually to cover supplies to stay alive. I will endure this obstacle my whole life, but attending school looms daily. My family received a large one-time bonus as compensation for a devastating event with my dad’s job, leading to our financial aid being severely reduced. Despite this, I need more help to pay for school that will not be covered by aid and cannot be paid with the money we received. I seek support to climb mountains that will further my musical abilities so I can give back and make the world a better place. I will reach my goals and prove there are no binds that cannot be broken. I will live to inspire others facing lifelong health conditions like mine, from stadium crowds to scared kids in hospital beds.

I have almost died twice. At birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I saw the faces of and felt the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. When I left, I was diagnosed with the chronic autoimmune disease, type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: I want to have that impact on others, not as an athlete, but as a musician. Social media is the forum of my generation and these platforms are launchpads for careers and ideas. Much of my time creating content was spent trying to hit an unattainable bar, where I achieved enormous success instantly. Not getting the feedback I imagined, my self-esteem was hit hard. I am competitive with myself, I have always been disciplined, and the expectations I set are high, driving me to practice, perform, and improve. I soon reconciled that there are more important numbers to watch than any video statistic. When the expectations I had with my online content became about my health, I reevaluated my focus. I realized I had more to offer than only on a screen. With an extra hole in my hourglass, I have grown more conscious of where the sand falls. I know that I will share music with the world, but my voice can only carry me as far as my mind and body allow. The path forward will be to fine-tune my skills with self-awareness to overcome obstacles and become a well-rounded ambassador for music. I love how music makes me feel, completely transformed by a unique sound arrangement. I need to share this feeling and improve people’s lives, as mine had been by the university athletes. For the past four years, I have tried, touring the country, learning numerous instruments, writing and arranging songs, and since tenth grade, singing in five vocal ensembles. That dedication to improvement is something I carry in my music, academics, and life. That is why I am pursuing a higher education. I want to learn and grow endlessly to inspire others to strive for themselves. I am stronger, familiarizing myself with an illness that left me no choice and dedicated to improving my music. I have learned the importance of improving all aspects of knowledge, instead of focusing on one, because to share my story with others means to share my lessons. The hourglass still loses sand, and the bar is still daunting at times, but it hovers in a way that reminds me to look upward toward the future where I will ever be smarter and wiser. Strong enough to continue to share my music with the world, or just one kid scared in a hospital bed.

Crafting compositions, leading ensembles, and performing music are my passions; the fuel to my soul. As I set my sights on the Berklee College of Music in Boston, I am drawn to the immersive experience that promises growth and artistic fulfillment for me on a profound level. I envision myself delving into every facet of music creation and performance, honing my skills as a producer and performer. My experience and education will propel me toward my dreams of pioneering the future of music as I reach for the stars. I direct my school’s top two vocal ensembles, one of which I founded. I use these to express myself uniquely while providing examples for my peers to emulate. I am the student director for the string band, The Saline Fiddlers. In this role, I direct a full PA set-up, sing lead vocals, lead the rhythm section, and keep the group united. In the absence of our director, I lead rehearsals and performances. I am concertmaster of our top orchestra and the bass section leader in our top choir, powering students through pieces, and being the person people come to with questions because I want to expedite change. I will work as an ambassador for music in the highest forms possible. Writing music, I will draw upon existing foundations while pushing the boundaries of modern possibility, freeing myself by allowing harmony to stream out of me onto a page for millions to hear. Performing, I am the vessel that embodies a sound and releases it into the universe with a fire. I am the one who people will directly see as their inspiration and motivation to keep going every day. Directing music, I will be the connection between the musicians in my pit, the performers on stage, those in the audience, and the esteemed, heavenly source that allows my passion to flourish. I am certain of my ability to rise to the top of the music, where I will be a role model for young musicians like myself—showing those who look up to me that anything and everything can be done, especially those who navigate life with medical conditions like me managing type one diabetes. I have continually sought new opportunities and pounced on all I could to further my musical artistry. Opening up this pathway for others will be the impact I will ultimately leave. I will be the one who creates opportunities like my educators did for me. I will be an example to all people fighting diseases and illnesses that there is hope, and they can accomplish spectacular feats regardless of some malfunctioning organs. My entrepreneurial spirit will continue while I pursue my career. Producing, directing, and performing will put me at the helm of creating distinguished art to share with people, evoking fantastic emotion and inspiring dramatic change.

I have almost died twice. I replay the events of these days over and over like the text of a song. I almost died at birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I see the faces of and feel the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted, and I felt hopeful for the first time in days. When I left, I was diagnosed with the chronic autoimmune disease, type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: I want to have that impact on others. Not as an athlete, but as a musician who can use his talents and skills to lift others. There are always limits to what can be done, especially in music. For example, while I could form my own band playing every instrument and singing, I cannot clone myself. Technology bridges an enormous gap and opens a new world of creation, where limits can be pushed so much further than what is possible otherwise. When I am performing or leading a group, there are always tiny changes that I cannot make. These indescribable feelings of the hi-hat being just a little too punchy are incredibly difficult to articulate and change on a live drum kit. In my EQ panel, however, it’s as simple as increasing the attack at 5kHz or tilting a microphone a different way. This level of control I have over sound to track multiple different instruments and create a perfect mix pulls me toward music technology. I love the way music makes me feel, completely embodied and transformed by a unique arrangement of sound. I feel as though I have crossed universes when I open up a session, utterly lost in the control I have. I feel a need to share this feeling and improve people’s lives, as mine had been by the university athletes. For the past four years, I have tried, touring the country, learning numerous instruments, writing and arranging songs, and since tenth grade, singing in seven vocal ensembles. While live performance connects me to music in unexplainable ways, it truly becomes an extension of myself when my ideas, musical skills, and a mixing panel meet. I want to become the best I can and sink hours into tracks that will define the world. That dedication to improvement is something I carry in my music, academics, and life, and that is why I am pursuing a higher education. I want more than training for a job or career; I want to learn and grow endlessly to inspire others to strive for themselves. I am stronger, familiarizing myself with an illness that left me no choice and dedicated to improving my music. The hourglass still loses sand, and the bar is still daunting at times, but it hovers in a way that reminds me to look upward toward the future where I will ever be smarter and wiser. Strong enough to continue to share my music with the world, or just one kid scared in a hospital bed.

The moment of impact, or in my case two; I replay the events of these days over and over like the text of a song. I almost died at birth, and again as I began my last year of middle school. One replay captures the terror of being lost in a hospital for hours of needles, tests, and phone calls. In a second, I see the faces of and feel the support offered by a group of college athletes at my side in the hospital. When they left, my spirits were lifted and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. When I left, I was diagnosed with a chronic autoimmune disease: type one diabetes. In my worst moments, I found my purpose: I want to have that impact on others. Not as an athlete, but as a musician who can use his talents and skills to lift others. Before this shift, I believed creating videos would be my future. Social media is the forum of my generation and these platforms are launchpads for careers and ideas. Much of my time creating content was spent trying to hit an unattainable bar, where I achieved enormous success instantly. Not getting the feedback I imagined, my self-esteem was hit hard. I soon reconciled that there are more important numbers to watch than any video statistic. The next few years of my life were a tsunami of challenges. When facing college, I must not only figure out how to afford tuition and housing but also create a strategy for financially supporting my health, which adds an enormous financial burden that many can ignore. However, if I have learned anything, it’s that ignoring my health will be detrimental. 24/7, I live plagued by the number of my blood sugar. The amount of insulin left in my insulin pump. My cord ibeing seen by others or getting caught on a door handle, seatbelt, or chair. Wearing a short-sleeve shirt making my blood sugar monitor visible. Moving my body without wincing from the digging of two needles I will never live without. The stress of success and supporting myself as a student paying tuition not only for my classes but for life, is a real problem I must solve. A simple solution I provided myself is disappearing. If I were gone, there would be no stress on me or my loved ones. No awkward social interactions when I need to eat in public. No financial burden of an extra $20,000 just for my diabetes annually. There would no longer be a constant pain in my arms and backside. There would not be pain from needles of the past, or scars from a less distant part of myself, alone in the darkness. People around me could be absent of the burdens I automatically place on them, and there would be more happiness. When the dark eats the light, I have learned to let my pupils adjust. It is hard to keep going, knowing that I might never live without constricted arms, a slight taint of insulin in my cologne, and awkward interactions at the start of every relationship. When I look at the brighter side, though, I see hope that my music is a beacon. A testament to the enduring human spirit, just like the kindness those college athletes showed me years ago. I envision myself performing for stadiums full of people, screaming my songs with me having the night of their lives, or for a single child in a lonely hospital room.

In the symphony of my life, music has been my guiding force. It started at three when I asked for a violin. While that wasn't in the cards, the neighbor offered me half-hour piano lessons for $10. She would bring me home two hours later with a big grin. That same neighbor gave me a piano that lived in my room. The piano quickly became my best friend and coping mechanism for my young emotions. That love of music continues ten years later, as a multi-instrumentalist, singer, and aspiring music producer. I've immersed myself in every musical opportunity available to me. In the world of melodies, harmonies, and rhythms, I remain convinced that music has the power to make the world a better place. My journey as a musician encompasses various instruments, each contributing its unique timbre to my musical expression. From the piano's tender chords to the guitar's vibrant strums, the mandolin's ethereal melodies, and the violin's soul-stirring resonance, I've cultivated a palette that allows me to paint my emotions in vibrant hues. However, through my voice, I find the truest expression of my inner self—a melodic conduit connecting my soul to encourage all who listen. Music is a personal pursuit and a communal experience actively contributed to through extracurricular activities. I don't settle for just playing instruments; I direct three ensembles, participate in ten diverse music groups, and obtain and perform solo gigs. These engagements immerse me in collaborative musical experiences, refining my skills while contributing to the rich tapestry of musical expression. As I stand at the collegiate threshold, my aspirations extend beyond traditional norms. My ambition is to become a versatile artist crafting music. I envision myself as a singer, writer, producer, and director, aiming to hear my creations resonate in stadiums worldwide. After obtaining my Bachelor's degree in Music Production and Performance I plan to obtain my Masters's Degree in Conducting. I aspire to be at the industry's forefront, impacting lives and pushing boundaries, carrying the belief that music is a higher revelation. My vision extends beyond individual success; I want to create compositions that resonate with diverse audiences and inspire young musicians. Many mentors and amazing musicians have cultivated my musical journey. As I come full circle I have now been allowed to be a leader and mentor to others, a role I adore. I strive to be a catalyst for change, encouraging people to pursue their dreams with unwavering passion, driven by music’s power.

I almost died twice. Once at birth and again at 13 when I was diagnosed as a type one diabetic entering high school. My involvement in music became an outlet of expression to deal with the stress of managing my life-threatening illness. Music saved me amid a global pandemic suffering isolation, loss of friends, and a distressing transition into high school where I nearly lost music. In tenth grade, I stopped my once-daily orchestra classes. Fortunately, Mr. Briere didn’t let that happen and kept music in my life. Since 9th grade, I have been attending music class at least once a day, and twice a day for the last two years—hard to do at my school. My drive for music has been a brick on the gas pedal for the last few years, and my skills have become everything about me. I became a contributor to every extracurricular music group I could, including starting a competitive tenor/bass quartet. I perform in ten active music ensembles, four of which I hold a leadership position, and four I have written or arranged for. I will pursue music and I know that it will remain as prominent as it is now for the remainder of my life. My ability to adapt and my incredibly strong foundation in music and performing arts will give me an edge in my college training and career. Balancing all of these things has been a challenge and learning experience. My growth as a musician and a person have interlaced through the last four years, as every new experience teaches me more and opens new doors. I have experienced the pressure and reward of getting paid for my art, competing for huge titles, and winning and losing them. The work ethic and perseverance I have gained from managing ensembles, balancing multiple things at once, finding solutions, taking new leaps, and being afraid, but brave—have taught me valuable lessons. My adventure into a new world of modern music, away from my school background in performing classical works, relies on the individuality that I have slowly built. Not once have I received instruction on music production, but bits and pieces that I infer and put together have taught me a valuable amount. Tie this into my formal musical training, and I am the artist of my dreams who can do it all. Music pulls me to a haven of security where I am my complete self, not consumed, but freed to explore my artistry. My diabetes and realization that life is short and fragile push me to become a better version of myself. I never struggle to consistently practice and grow, never taking the brick out from under my foot, which helps me go just a little faster to an ever-moving finish line that I never want to see. Music saved me. It gave me a respite and a place to grow, learn, make friends, experience new things, and endure the harsh realities that high school threw at me.