Chappell Roan has made an incredible impact on the LGBTQ+ community. As a vocalist, I have an undying respect for Chappell Roan's singing and musical talent. As a bisexual woman, my admiration for Chappell has become a huge part of my self-acceptance. Because I was raised in a strictly conservative, Catholic household that perceived homosexuality as a disgusting trait, I found it impossible to determine what my feelings were when it came to love. Ever since elementary school I have been at war with my attraction to women, only now finding comfort in who I am. Chappell's unapologetic attitude towards her queer identity is something I aspire to mirror, her self-acceptance leading me to my own self-appreciation. Too many people believe that a person's homosexuality is a window to a twisted morality, but it is impossible for me to see love between two consenting adults as anything but good. To quote Chappell Roan, "love is a kaleidoscope" - no matter how you look at it, love is love, and love is beautiful. Chappell Roan has done a lot more for LGBTQ+ people than make amazing music. By being open about her sexuality, she has provided a space for the queer community to be unafraid of being themselves. For instance, I went to a "Pink Pony Club" night at the Vinyl Music Hall in Pensacola, where I found nothing but support and affection. Chappell's fans are some of the most kind people on Earth; it's a community built on girls supporting girls and unconditional acceptance for various lifestyles. Thanks to Chappell, I gained not only self-love, but love from so many new friends. To conclude, Chappell Roan's album The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess has brought queer people so much acceptance - both of themselves and others. I have infinite appreciation for Chappell's contribution to the LGBTQ+ community, as well as her really amazing songs and talent.

Beginning with exposure to my older sister's severe and violent mental illness, fear has consumed the entirety of my life. I grew up in a very unpredictable environment, with everyone's comfort dictated by my sister's moods. She often flew into hurricane-like rages, destroying any object that was unfortunate enough to be within her reach. Arguments were commonplace between her and my parents, my father significantly lacking in empathy for her gargantuan emotions and typically enraging her further. However, animalistic anger was not the only symptom of her Borderline Personality Disorder. My childhood was guided by lies and manipulations that she conjured out of self-proclaimed jealousy for my brother and me. Undeserved punishments resulted from fabrications told to my mother, and tales were constructed about my family members to turn me against them. With a nine-year difference between my sister and I, the impact she had on my development is indescribable. I began to have suicidal thoughts at the age of ten, my sister's verbal and emotional abuse leading me to believe wholeheartedly that I was an evil abomination who deserved no place on Earth. The most significant effect of my sister's torment during my childhood was uncovered in my freshman year when I decided to attend a better school than those I grew up with to earn an international baccalaureate degree. For the whole of ninth grade, I encountered inescapable terror, surrounded by a completely new social environment that seemed to torture me with every glance, word, and facial expression. The stress caused not only frequent anxiety and panic attacks but mortifying instances of urinary incontinence that I have only now seen without incredible disgust and disdain for myself. This was the most extreme experience I have ever had with mental illness. Without having ever experienced an instance of bullying for the entirety of my time at the new school, I scared myself off the Fairhope campus and returned to my friends from middle school at Robertsdale High in my sophomore year. My escape from the pressures of a new school began my recovery from mental illness. I began genuine therapy, abandoning two previous counselors in hopes of finding someone who could offer me serious help. When I met Kinsey Miller, my current therapist, I developed a version of myself that I believed I could become; a confident, kind, and comfortable person who was unafraid of a loud voice or an angry look. However, in confronting the impact of my sister's abuse on my general well-being, I began to develop an intense resentment for her. I experienced thoughts of hurting or killing her, and my anger often projected onto other things. I became terrified of myself when I began to act similarly to the monster from my childhood, shrieking at animals when they irritated me and snapping at my family members when I felt they weren't doing enough to help. For me, there was nothing worse than the aggression caused by the chemical imbalance in my mind. I sought aid from my therapist and was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder and generalized anxiety. Kinsey provided me with many coping mechanisms to soothe my irrational anger and combat obsessive and compulsive behaviors. I was put on medication in my junior year and have improved significantly since. My anger has subdued as I work to forgive my sister for the effect her mental illness has had on me and my anxiety has quieted enough for me to not only be less terrified of the world around me but to confront it in order to accomplish my goals.

As someone who has their own neural abnormalities, I have always been extremely intrigued by psychology. I've been surrounded by mental health issues my entire life, both in myself and in the people around me. I could go on for an unhealthy amount of time about how this affected my development, but where my dreams began is not as important as where they will end up. It is undeniable that the current state of mental health care in the US.. is bordering on inhumane. It's often hard to see, but mental illness is all around us. Those categorized as "bad" are thrown into the streets or despicable prison system to be forgotten by the rest of "good" society because it is so much easier to throw away a problem than to deal with it. It is my goal to help change this common black-and-white perception of the world into a more empathetic, complex understanding. To achieve this ambition, I want to attend university and gain my bachelor's of science in psychology, further expanding my education by earning a master's and potentially a doctorate in my field of study. While I nourish my knowledge of how to help those facing psychological impairment, I want to reach teenagers and adolescents in need of support - and what better way to do that than to teach? As a stepping stone in my learning, it is a goal of mine to give aid to those who don't know how to ask for help. As a high schooler myself, I owe my entire future to the teachers who helped me grow as a student and a human being. I love teaching and working with kids; it's a dream of mine to guide future generations on a beneficial path. After I complete my education, I want to begin work on my biggest aspiration - helping those mentally in need. It's ambitious, but I am determined and want more than anything to help change society in this way. I want to practice clinically, research disorders, and help discover new, more efficient ways to treat mental illness. Above all, my biggest dream is to be a helping hand in reducing homelessness and reinventing the prison system to focus less on punishment and more on rehabilitation. The concepts are vague now, but expanding my knowledge of psychology and gaining hands-on experience in the future will help me to reach those in need.

While I would love for all eight billion humans to read my favorite book, "Crime and Punishment," I think that my choice should be a bit more beneficial to society. Because of my unfortunate lack of desire to become a dictator of entertaining literature, I believe that the best book for everyone to read would be "Just Mercy" by Bryan Stevenson. You'll see in my other essays that I'm something of a broken record in regard to this book, but its not without reason. I'm infinitely grateful to my junior year English teacher who introduced the novel to us, because it gave me the desire to help make the world a better place through how we treat those that harm others, whether emotionally, physically, or financially. "Just Mercy" is a book about criminal defense and how the US Justice System has wronged both innocent and guilty citizens with its unjust rulings. I think that if the world treated the broken people of society with more kindness and less cruelty, the Earth would be a much better place to live. If everyone read "Just Mercy" with an open mind, this idea would be introduced to all of those in power and fully realized in society. It is amazing what forgiveness and encouragement can do. I learned from "Just Mercy" that most of those who have found themselves on the wrong side of the law lacked the support to develop into a happy member of society. Of course, some my ideas might be heavily influenced by my youth and naivety, but I refuse the cruel truth of society today is that people are either inherently good or bad. I hope that in my future I can challenge how we treat criminals today in a way to truly benefit the entire world.

The more I learn about the justice system, the more I believe that the United States views its population through a black-and-white lens. The simplistic thinking of the dried-up elders that lead our country has led to a system believing in either one hundred percent good or one hundred percent bad, leaving little to no gray area for how criminals are treated after committing a crime. I hope to broaden our society's thinking to conceptualize more than the crime committed and view citizens as they are; complex human beings who don't fit within the binary system of villain and hero. By entering the field of psychology, it is my goal to study criminology to change the archaic mindset of punishing law-breakers to rehabilitating them. I was first inspired to attempt to change the harsh treatment of criminals after reading Bryan Stevenson's book, "Just Mercy" in my junior year of high school. In this nonfiction account of Stevenson's experience as a criminal defense lawyer, the reader is introduced to Walter McMillian, a wrongfully accused African American who is put on death row because of prejudiced law enforcement. As we follow along Walter's proceedings, Stevenson also recounts other defense cases, describing the discrimination and mistreatment of both innocent and guilty citizens. Despite the events in the book taking place in the 1980s, I have come to realize that the bigoted treatment of criminals shown in the novel is still in place today. For instance, Thomas Tate, the same sheriff of Monroe County who arrested Walter McMillian based on racist incentives, was still employed for the next thirty years after the "Just Mercy" trial until he retired in 2018. Even after the book was published in 2014 and revealed all of his misdeeds, he faced no consequences for robbing an innocent man decades of his life and was never defeated for re-election. I find this fact utterly disgusting and very revealing of how society discards the lives and happiness of those perceived to have broken the law. The lack of consideration for the years stolen from Walter McMillian because of his wrongful incarceration is very clear in the continued support for Thomas Tate in Monroe County. This is what encourages me to prove that those imprisoned or facing possible imprisonment deserve humane treatment. It is almost common knowledge that the United States prison system is almost entirely corrupt and ineffective, focusing more on punishing and mistreating those who have broken laws rather than providing opportunities for prisoners to improve as human beings and reshape themselves into better people. It is grossly ironic for me to see prisons with the titles "Corrections Institution" and "Rehabilitation Center," knowing that what is occurring behind those barbed fences is anything but. My biggest goal in pursuing a career in psychology is to better understand the minds of those who break laws and the ones punishing them so I can use that information to reshape prisons to better fulfill their claims of rehabilitation. As someone who has experienced the arrest of a close family member for what would be considered total evil, it is my firm belief that there are no evil people, only evil actions. Those rightfully imprisoned are broken or sick, their twisted psychology pushing them to harm those around them. This is my biggest motivation to try and change the fairy-tale perception of the world that so many people hold today. I want to try to mend that brokenness so that criminals and those around them can be safe and happy.

The more I learn about the justice system, the more I believe that the United States views its population through a black-and-white lens. The simplistic thinking of the dried-up elders that lead our country has led to a system believing in either one hundred percent good or one hundred percent bad, leaving little to no gray area for how criminals are treated after committing a crime. I hope to broaden our society's thinking to conceptualize more than the crime committed and view citizens as they are; complex human beings who don't fit within the binary system of villain and hero. By entering the field of psychology, it is my goal to study criminology to change the archaic mindset of punishing law-breakers to rehabilitating them. I was first inspired to attempt to change the harsh treatment of criminals after reading Bryan Stevenson's book, "Just Mercy" in my junior year of high school. In this nonfiction account of Stevenson's experience as a criminal defense lawyer, the reader is introduced to Walter McMillian, a wrongfully accused African American who is put on death row because of prejudiced law enforcement. As we follow along Walter's proceedings, Stevenson also recounts other defense cases, describing the discrimination and mistreatment of both innocent and guilty citizens. Despite the events in the book taking place in the 1980s, I have come to realize that the bigoted treatment of criminals shown in the novel is still in place today. For instance, Thomas Tate, the same sheriff of Monroe County who arrested Walter McMillian based on racist incentives, was still employed for the next thirty years after the "Just Mercy" trial until he retired in 2018. Even after the book was published in 2014 and revealed all of his misdeeds, he faced no consequences for robbing an innocent man decades of his life and was never defeated for re-election. I find this fact utterly disgusting and very revealing of how society discards the lives and happiness of those perceived to have broken the law. The lack of consideration for the years stolen from Walter McMillian because of his wrongful incarceration is very clear in the continued support for Thomas Tate in Monroe County. This is what encourages me to prove that those imprisoned or facing possible imprisonment deserve humane treatment. It is almost common knowledge that the United States prison system is almost entirely corrupt and ineffective, focusing more on punishing and mistreating those who have broken laws rather than providing opportunities for prisoners to improve as human beings and reshape themselves into better people. It is grossly ironic for me to see prisons with the titles "Corrections Institution" and "Rehabilitation Center," knowing that what is occurring behind those barbed fences is anything but. My biggest goal in pursuing a career in psychology is to better understand the minds of those who break laws and the ones punishing them so I can use that information to reshape prisons to better fulfill their claims of rehabilitation. As someone who has experienced the arrest of a close family member for what would be considered total evil, it is my firm belief that there are no evil people, only evil actions. Those rightfully imprisoned are broken or sick, their twisted psychology pushing them to harm those around them. This is my biggest motivation to try and change the fairy-tale perception of the world that so many people hold today. I want to try to mend that brokenness so that criminals and those around them can be safe and happy.

The more I learn about the justice system, the more I believe that the United States views its population through a black-and-white lens. The simplistic thinking of the dried-up elders that lead our country has led to a system believing in either one hundred percent good or one hundred percent bad, leaving little to no gray area for how criminals are treated after committing a crime. I hope to broaden our society's thinking to conceptualize more than the crime committed and view citizens as they are; complex human beings who don't fit within the binary system of villain and hero. By entering the field of psychology, it is my goal to study criminology to change the archaic mindset of punishing law-breakers to rehabilitating them. I was first inspired to attempt to change the harsh treatment of criminals after reading Bryan Stevenson's book, "Just Mercy" in my junior year of high school. In this nonfiction account of Stevenson's experience as a criminal defense lawyer, the reader is introduced to Walter McMillian, a wrongfully accused African American who is put on death row because of prejudiced law enforcement. As we follow along Walter's proceedings, Stevenson also recounts other defense cases, describing the discrimination and mistreatment of both innocent and guilty citizens. Despite the events in the book taking place in the 1980s, I have come to realize that the bigoted treatment of criminals shown in the novel is still in place today. For instance, Thomas Tate, the same sheriff of Monroe County who arrested Walter McMillian based on racist incentives, was still employed for the next thirty years after the "Just Mercy" trial until he retired in 2018. Even after the book was published in 2014 and revealed all of his misdeeds, he faced no consequences for robbing an innocent man decades of his life and was never defeated for re-election. I find this fact utterly disgusting and very revealing of how society discards the lives and happiness of those perceived to have broken the law. The lack of consideration for the years stolen from Walter McMillian because of his wrongful incarceration is very clear in the continued support for Thomas Tate in Monroe County. This is what encourages me to prove that those imprisoned or facing possible imprisonment deserve humane treatment. It is almost common knowledge that the United States prison system is almost entirely corrupt and ineffective, focusing more on punishing and mistreating those who have broken laws rather than providing opportunities for prisoners to improve as human beings and reshape themselves into better people. It is grossly ironic for me to see prisons with the titles "Corrections Institution" and "Rehabilitation Center," knowing that what is occurring behind those barbed fences is anything but. My biggest goal in pursuing a career in psychology is to better understand the minds of those who break laws and the ones punishing them so I can use that information to reshape prisons to better fulfill their claims of rehabilitation. As someone who has experienced the arrest of a close family member for what would be considered total evil, it is my firm belief that there are no evil people, only evil actions. Those rightfully imprisoned are broken or sick, their twisted psychology pushing them to harm those around them. This is my biggest motivation to try and change the fairy-tale perception of the world that so many people hold today. I want to try to mend that brokenness so that criminals and those around them can be safe and happy.

The human mind is incredibly complex and will perhaps never be fully understood; however, the effort put forth by the bipartisan Caucus is crucial in aiding those in mental strife. Despite my criticisms below, I am overjoyed that people with high influence realize how important mental health is to society as a whole. I believe that the most important goal of the bipartisan Caucus is its effort to "increase access to evidence-based mental health treatment". Without this important factor, all of the early intervention and crisis response services will be useless to those who especially need it, such as those in poverty, who struggle most with mental health issues and would need this aid most. The second priority of the Caucus should be to "expand the country's mental health professional workforce" to aid those who now have better access to care. Without officials to aid others in need, no help would be given. There is a lot of stigma surrounding psychological disorders, preventing many from viewing the occupation of being a mental health professional seriously. Relieving the public of their ignorance on the topic and encouraging more people to join the effort to relieve others of their mental struggles would ultimately create the best environment for those who are seeking help to receive it. The third most important aim is to "improve prevention and early intervention efforts." In many horrible situations encountered by those with mental illness, the state that that person ended up in could have been avoided if someone stepped in sooner. This is why it is important for institutions such as schools and workplaces should work towards having accessible mental health resources. Before intervening and preventing, the Caucus must first build a strong healthcare force to combat the issues of the mentally ill, which is why I placed this crucial aim third instead of first. I place this goal last, but it is just as important to implement as the others. By "enhanc[ing] our nation's crisis response services," we can use the aforementioned improvements above in order to effectively reach those in need. Without being able to help the mentally ill via the resources previously put into place, then we would be unable to make a real difference in psychological healthcare. Finally, I believe that an incredibly important factor was overlooked in the creation of the bipartisan Caucus. Those affected by mental disorders or emotional imbalances are often those who commit crimes and end up in incarceration. The American prison system, though claiming to implement rehabilitation, does anything but help criminals. The harsh, unforgiving environment does not allow for emotional development or proper mental aid. Punishments such as solitary confinement cause a lot of psychological stress. Not only that, but the officers enforcing those punishments are often abusive to prisoners, forcing more negative impacts onto their mental health. I feel very strongly that the Caucus should make it a priority to stop American prisons from punishing criminals and help them focus on rehabilitating those incarcerated.

My entire life has been a war against fear. In my freshman year of high school, I attempted to pursue higher education via the International Baccalaureate Program. Because the program was not offered at Robertsdale High School, where the people I had grown up with were going, I enrolled in Fairhope High. At first, I had high hopes for Fairhope. There were so many classes offered and the funding was much higher than the school I was meant to attend; however, my terror for the new environment was insurmountable. I quickly found that I was in completely unfamiliar territory. Every day I was sent into battle naked, subject to the paralyzing pressure of social interaction without any armor. Anxiety had already plagued me years previously, but it became a celestial monster that haunted my every move in August of 2020. For instance, the day before I started ninth grade, I transcribed a final note and came dangerously close to attempting suicide due to the stress of making a horrific first impression. The unknown was a monster to me, and I faced it with no defense day after day at Fairhope. As the year went on and my fear mutated, I would fight sleep as long as I could in order to prevent time from passing too quickly. Instead of focusing on how to overcome anxiety, I did everything I could to avoid being thrust into battle with the animalistic terror that combatted me at school. I made a few friends by sitting silently and speaking when spoken to. I did not dare to open my mouth first as that would risk their opinion of me; or, the way I saw it, embarrassment would cost me my life. Unfortunately, my mind and body did not comprehend how to conquer that fear, and in doing so it worsened the effects of it. The physical symptoms of my anxiety were mortifying. My disabling concerns about others' thoughts of me were so primal that my body responded as though my life were at risk. I experienced excessive sweating, insomnia, panic and anxiety attacks, dissociating, and, worst of all, urinary incontinence. More than a few times a week I would feel myself losing comprehension of a social interaction, causing me to consequentially lose all bladder control. It was the most humiliating, disgusting thing I have ever experienced. I checked out of school multiple times from urinating myself, refusing to bring a change of clothes out of fear of having to explain the reason behind them to other students. Once anxiety incontinence began inhibiting my day-to-day, hell became incomparable to my inferno of torment at Fairhope High School. I was irrationally convinced that if anyone found out about my physical fear response, I would be regarded as an outcast and would have no chance of progressing in life any further. I am incredibly disappointed to say that this is not a story in which I overcame my fears and adapted to the new environment of Fairhope High School. I was lucky enough to be able to transfer to Robertsdale my sophomore year, and in doing so allowed for recovery from that traumatic experience. I still have such a disdain for my terrified, pee-soaked fourteen-year-old self, but as time goes on I'm learning to accept her as a part of me. I did not conquer my issues, but in my failure to beat fear, I learned to push myself to endure uncomfortable feelings so that I never allow anxiety to defeat me again.

Fear has always limited me. There are so many things I could have done, places I could have gone, and opportunities I could have taken, but fear held me back. I've allowed myself to fade into the shadows for fear of the light being too bright, and only now, after over a decade of struggling, am I really living my life. I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and depression in elementary school. I grew up in an unstable environment because of my older sister's struggle with BPD, so the stress that I faced at a young age caused me to be developmentally behind other children. As I got older, the fear only seemed to get worse. It was like an infection, slowly spreading and festering as I aged and faced more difficult situations. I felt like any risk I took would result in explosive anger, as it did with my sister and sometimes my father. When I started high school, I pushed myself and took one of those terrifying risks - a risk that backfired horrifically. I decided I would switch schools in order to pursue an international baccalaureate degree. The day before I started at Fairhope High, my fear drove me to almost attempt suicide. Luckily, fear stopped me there too after I wrote the note. I started my freshman year the next day, and while I passed all of my classes with flying colors, (apart from math), the social aspect was where I really struggled. I experienced truly mortifying symptoms of anxiety, ones that I am still scared to admit to today. Not only that, but I was having trouble sleeping and began to self-harm. It seemed impossible for me to really connect with my peers and I felt like I lost a sense of who I was in trying to appeal to others. The next year I switched back to the high school in my hometown, where I did better around more familiar faces. However, I still fell behind my peers socially. I held myself back from joining extracurriculars for fear of embarrassing myself in certain activities. I missed out on many opportunities I qualified for because I was too scared of failing. Worst of all, that year my sister got evicted and moved back in with us. The terror of my sister turned into anger with further exposure to her. I blamed her for all of the fear in my life. I was enraged at the fact that no one seemed to care how horribly she had treated me, and how my family still supported her while I was suffering from her destructive behavior. The helplessness and lack of control I had and felt got so all-consuming that I began to have thoughts of killing her. These thoughts really scared me. And they didn't stop at my sister - intrusive thoughts began to take complete control of my mind about nearly anything: bugs, disease, evil numbers. I sought help and was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. This diagnosis was the one that really helped me connect the dots. The three simple letters of OCD led me down a path of self-discovery and true healing. I understood why I did or thought certain things and what behaviors were wrong and needed to improve. Soon I began to take medication, and my depression and anxiety symptoms faded. Now, I'm able to do things that my 14-year-old self would have believed to be impossible. While I still struggle with an excess of fear and anger, I'm finally taking control of my life and pushing myself to grow every day.

Suicide has been a consistent theme throughout my life. Growing up, my older sister, suffering from borderline personality disorder, seemed to threaten to kill herself on a monthly basis. When I was nine, a close family friend ended her life and exposed me to the shock of losing someone to mental illness. Because of these outside influences and my own struggles with mental health, the effects of mental illness have completely molded how I view the world. Living with someone who struggles with BPD is similar to living with a monster - especially for a child. It's difficult to describe being subject to verbal and emotional abuse from a sibling, but it's impossible to deny the effect my sister had on me when I was growing up. With a nine-year age difference, it's easier to visualize the impact her behavior had on my young mind. As a kid, my home was always an environment of uncertainty. My whole family was constantly walking on eggshells, all of us terrified of potentially sending my sister into one of her fits of rage. From the shattered kitchen window, the hidden shards of broken plates, and the patches of uneven drywall that fill former cavities, her anger is immortalized in the very structure of our home. In my mind, the echoes of her hysterical shrieks of insults and threats are heard in every miscellaneous clang or thud I encounter today. I'm sure the rest of my family members felt this way, but as the youngest and the most vulnerable, I felt like I was always her easiest target. I could never understand why my sister hated me, why she called me horrible names, why she screamed at me like I was a terrible person. It got to the point that I began to believe that I was a terrible person. By age seven I was convinced that inside me was an evil seed that only my sister could see. I thought I deserved all the treatment she gave me. This was when I began to struggle with suicidal thoughts. I firmly believed that I was too despicable to be alive, and I hadn't even reached my tenth birthday yet. My struggle with these thoughts would lead me to go in and out of therapy throughout my entire childhood and adolescence. It wasn't until my sophomore year that I found a therapist who genuinely helped me. She diagnosed me with anxiety, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, finally giving me an answer to what was wrong with me: absolutely nothing. My mind had been contorted by years of manipulation and torment to make me believe that I was a monster. How much I still struggle with this way of thinking makes me want to hate my sister, but I can't, because I know that she is also in pain. Deep down, I know that my sister is not a bad person. She's mentally ill, just like me. Even though she can't tell me directly, I know that she feels an impossible amount of guilt for how much she hurt me and the rest of my family. Although she still brings me suffering just from her presence, I know that she's worked hard to try and improve herself. The struggles we both face and have faced encourage me to strive to help others with mental health issues as a psychologist.

Suicide has been a consistent theme throughout my life. Growing up, my older sister, suffering from borderline personality disorder, seemed to threaten to kill herself on a monthly basis. When I was nine, a close family friend ended her life and exposed me to the shock of losing someone to mental illness. Because of these outside influences and my own struggles with mental health, the effects of mental illness have completely molded how I view the world. Living with someone who struggles with BPD is similar to living with a monster - especially for a child. It's difficult to describe being subject to verbal and emotional abuse from a sibling, but it's impossible to deny the effect my sister had on me when I was growing up. With a nine-year age difference, it's easier to visualize the impact her behavior had on my young mind. As a kid, my home was always an environment of uncertainty. My whole family was constantly walking on eggshells, all of us terrified of potentially sending my sister into one of her fits of rage. From the shattered kitchen window, the hidden shards of broken plates, and the patches of uneven drywall that fill former cavities, her anger is immortalized in the very structure of our home. In my mind, the echoes of her hysterical shrieks of insults and threats are heard in every miscellaneous clang or thud I encounter today. I'm sure the rest of my family members felt this way, but as the youngest and the most vulnerable, I felt like I was always her easiest target. I could never understand why my sister hated me, why she called me horrible names, why she screamed at me like I was a terrible person. It got to the point that I began to believe that I was a terrible person. By age seven I was convinced that inside me was an evil seed that only my sister could see. I thought I deserved all the treatment she gave me. This was when I began to struggle with suicidal thoughts. I firmly believed that I was too despicable to be alive, and I hadn't even reached my tenth birthday yet. My struggle with these thoughts would lead me to go in and out of therapy throughout my entire childhood and adolescence. It wasn't until my sophomore year that I found a therapist who genuinely helped me. She diagnosed me with anxiety, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, finally giving me an answer to what was wrong with me: absolutely nothing. My mind had been contorted by years of manipulation and torment to make me believe that I was a monster. How much I still struggle with this way of thinking makes me want to hate my sister, but I can't, because I know that she is also in pain. Deep down, I know that my sister is not a bad person. She's mentally ill, just like me. Even though she can't tell me directly, I know that she feels an impossible amount of guilt for how much she hurt me and the rest of my family. Although she still brings me suffering just from her presence, I know that she's worked hard to try and improve herself. The struggles we both face and have faced encourage me to strive to help others with mental health issues as a psychologist.

My dream self will feel safe, secure, and happy so I can finally break away from the crushing fear that has trapped me for my whole life.

The world is on fire. We hear it every day, every night, every hour. Humanity is being drowned by a gasoline shower. Those before have lit the flame, Yet they refuse to take the blame. The world is on fire - no, our heads are on fire! We're blazing, our brains burning while the rest of them cower. We cry and writhe in a horrific band Neglected children who have been dealt a shitty hand. We're linked together through an invisible web, A burning web, scorching us all until we're dead. "Greed!" we shout, As the stress destroys us inside and out. But what can we do? We have no control, no say, no voice, And yet they claim that it's all our choice. No apology, they've done nothing wrong, And we're all just idiots singing the same stupid song. Trading green for green, the world is dying, "What fire?" they keep denying. Because then it's true, Then it's real. Then they'll have to sacrifice all that they had to steal- But wait, they're old and rotting, We'll have to clean up the mess that they've been plotting. The world is on fire, And so are we, Burning and burning, The mess that's left is the only thing we see.

Today, the justice system is flawed and corrupt. Innocent people have had decades stolen from them simply because it was easier to commit them to prison rather than search for more applicable evidence. Most of these people are Hispanic or African American. One book that shows this with horrifying clarity is Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson. In this nonfiction book, Bryan Stevenson, a criminal defense lawyer, moves to Alabama and takes up the case of Walter McMillian. Walter, a black man who seems to have the world against him, was convicted of murdering a young girl in a robbery. However, McMillian was completely innocent. Despite this obvious fact, Walter was put on death row for a crime he did not commit. Worst of all, there was no one he could turn to. The racially biased police fudged evidence to close a hard-to-solve case, the courts turned a blind eye to avoid admitting to their mistake and prejudices, and the people of Monroe County had all turned their heads. All except Walter's community, who were beyond frustrated by constantly being taken advantage of simply because of the color of their skin, and his family, who hired Stevenson to help. As the reader progresses through the story of Walter's case, Bryan also describes other cases he dealt with that show how flawed the justice system really is. These true stories cannot be dismissed or misunderstood. They illuminate the inhumanity of prisons, the cruelty of the death penalty, and the harsh unforgiving population that comprises the American people. Why should everyone in the world read this book? So that change can be made and forgiveness can be dealt. I firmly believe that there is no such thing as a bad person - only a broken person. While some people are dangerous, that does not mean that we have the right to take away all of their chances to be a better person in a place where they are unable to harm others. If given proper rehabilitation instead of punishment, criminals would truly be able to change into upstanding citizens. Instead, their lives are either thrown away without a second thought or they are forced to spend a large fraction of their lives in the hellscape that is the American prison. Compassion needs to be given, and Just Mercy is the perfect book to show people why and how things should change.

For many, music is a sword that helps them channel their emotions to others. To me, music is a shield. It covers and guards me from the world around me, transporting my mind into the lyrics and melody. Not only does it protect me from external influences, but internal ones as well. When I was 15, I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Because of this illness, my brain is often plagued by horrific and terrifying thoughts. Bugs crawling up or inside my skin, diseases infiltrating my body, cancer overtaking my organs, my appendix preparing to burst - the list is endless, and the more I think about all of the potential occurrences that could be happening, the longer it gets. These intrusive ideas and more follow me around every day. The obsessions manifest into compulsions, meaning that to ensure I do not encounter any of those horrible, horrible thoughts, I do pointless little rituals until my anxiety fades. For instance, I step over lines and cracks in the concrete, I avoid certain numbers, and I check and triple-check whatever food I am eating to ensure no bugs are hiding inside. Music helps me drown out my obsessions to prevent those compulsions. Whether I am driving my car or wearing headphones around the house, songs and singing along with them help me to escape from my terrible mind and focus on what word or note is next. It completely distracts me from every issue or potential issue that often disrupts peaceful moments. But music is more to me than just a distraction. I have been singing seriously for over three years now, and I enjoy it very much. I struggled at first. I was too scared to open my mouth in front of my teacher, let alone an audience. But I worked hard and grew as a singer and a person. If I were to stand next to my freshman self, we would be great examples of night and day. This year, because of singing and pushing myself to improve, I have set my mind to singing competitively and signed up for upcoming competitions. Moreover, the confidence I gained from my teacher Mr. Brandon and singing more and more in front of others helped me to gather the courage to create an art club at my school. I am currently in the process of forming a National Art Honor Society chapter at my high school, something I never could have done without music and singing. So I suppose that music is more to me than just a shield. Music, in reality, is a friend. A friend that comforts me and guards me from negative thoughts. A friend who pushes me to be my best self and improve every day. A friend that I can always have faith in, a friend that will always be present in my life. A friend who has guided me to see the world as not a place to hide from, but a place where I can truly be myself.

Suicide has been a consistent theme throughout my life. Growing up, my older sister, suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder, seemed to threaten to kill herself on a monthly basis. When I was nine, a close family friend ended her life and exposed me to the shock of losing someone to mental illness. Because of these outside influences and my own struggles with mental health, the effects of mental illness have completely molded how I view the world. Living with someone who struggles with BPD is similar to living with a monster - especially for a child. It's difficult to describe being subject to verbal and emotional abuse from a sibling, but it's impossible to deny the effect my sister had on me when I was growing up. With a nine-year age difference, it's easier to visualize the impact her behavior had on my young mind. As a kid, my home was always an environment of uncertainty. My whole family was constantly walking on eggshells, all of us terrified of potentially sending my sister into one of her fits of rage. From the shattered kitchen window, the hidden shards of broken plates, and the patches of uneven drywall that fill former cavities, her anger is immortalized in the very structure of our home. In my mind, the echoes of her hysterical shrieks of insults and threats are heard in every miscellaneous clang or thud I encounter today. I'm sure the rest of my family members felt this way, but as the youngest and the most vulnerable, I felt like I was always her easiest target. I could never understand why my sister hated me, why she called me horrible names, why she screamed at me like I was a terrible person. I began to believe that I was a terrible person. By age seven I was convinced that inside me was an evil seed that only my sister could see. I thought I deserved all the treatment she gave me. This was when I began to struggle with suicidal thoughts. I firmly believed that I was too despicable to be alive, and I hadn't even reached my tenth birthday yet. My struggle with these thoughts would lead me to go in and out of therapy throughout my entire childhood and adolescence. It wasn't until my sophomore year that I found a therapist who genuinely helped me. She diagnosed me with anxiety, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, finally giving me an answer to what was wrong with me: absolutely nothing. My mind had been contorted by years of manipulation and torment to make me believe that I was a monster. How much I still struggle with this way of thinking makes me want to hate my sister, but I can't, because I know that she is also in pain. Deep down, I know that my sister is not a bad person. She's mentally ill, just like me. Even though she can't tell me directly, I know that she feels an impossible amount of guilt for how much she hurt me and the rest of my family. Although she still brings me suffering just from her presence, I know that she's worked hard to try and improve herself. The struggles we both face encourage me to strive to help others with mental health issues, both as a teacher and one day a clinical psychologist. I've always had trouble with making friends because of my problems with anxiety. School is extremely difficult for me because of how many social interactions I encounter there. I'm constantly assessing every conversation and every action I commit, ensuring that nothing I do will cause a negative reaction from anyone. In class, I have problems with initiative, as I'm terrified of doing something incorrectly and being called out on it by the teacher. This is why I hope to one day be an educator to reach out to those who are like me, who face difficulty with seemingly simple things that other students complete with ease. I have often suffered silently, but a few amazing teachers I've had have come to me and helped me overcome my problems. Being a teacher is the most achievable goal that I have, but my dream is to study psychology. I hope to one day uncover information about OCD and BPD that can help people like me and my sister. Borderline Personality Disorder is one of the hardest mental disorders to treat, and I hope to make advancements in research to help end the suffering of those with this disorder. I also want to participate in applied psychology, to help those struggling mentally firsthand. Ultimately, my experience with the mental health of myself and those close to me has revealed to me that there is no evil in the world, only illness. Books that exemplify harmful behavior as typically being caused by mental struggles or situational occurrences such as "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote and "Just Mercy" by Brian Stevenson have further inspired me to enter the field of psychology in hopes of one day proving that misdeeds and mistakes are not all defining of a person's character.