When I was a kid, I hated LeBron James. As someone who valued loyalty, I was disgusted by his willingness to "desert" whatever team wasn't winning enough for him to stay. I preferred players like Dirk Nowitzki, Kobe Bryant, or Steph Curry who spent their entire career playing for one team. To me, it showed so much emotional strength and loyalty to stand beside one team for your whole career even when times were tough. While Steph is still my favorite, I eventually realized LeBron wasn't the villain I had made him out to be in my mind; in fact, he turned out to be a really good role model. He always strived to be the greatest and understood that the environments he was in were not going to deliver him to the heights he aimed for. Sometimes I want to stay in a place because it's comfortable even though it might hold me back from my true potential And leaving wasn't easy for him. He left behind his hometown in Cleveland and some of his closest friends in Miami. The path to greatness can often be a lonely one, and it's hard to follow knowing how lonely it gets. What makes LeBron so successful is his relentless hunger for greatness, and how he lets it drive him. Sometimes it means people dislike him, like me when I was a kid. But he doesn't allow anyone's opinion to affect how he chases his dreams, which is admirable. He also gives back to his community and is generous with the money he's earned throughout his career. While many stars and celebrities give back, LeBron goes above and beyond expectations by opening a school for underprivileged communities and donating millions every year to help those less fortunate than him, a nod to his humble beginnings. Overall, I admire LeBron's courage, tenacity, and heart for philanthropy. As much as I have grown to respect LeBron, I still do not think he is the greatest basketball player of all time. While his career and accolades are certainly impressive, I would rank him as #3 of all time, followed closely by Steph Curry. Michael Jordan revolutionized the game of basketball in pop culture in the 80s and 90s, and his 6 rings eclipse LeBron's 4, especially since he won them all with the Bulls. Jordan pushed his teammates to greater heights and made those around him great. That's why he's the greatest of all time in my opinion. Kobe's "Mamba Mentality" took the world by storm and helped him dominate the Western Conference for most of the 2010s. His unmatched perseverance and drive for success make almost anyone else look lazy and unmotivated. He also has more rings than LeBron, sitting at 5 championships, and won all of them with the Lakers. I'm not saying that having the most rings means you're the greatest; after all, Bill Russell has 11 championships, the most all-time. What truly makes someone great, besides championships, is their mindset and how they changed the game. Michael Jordan revolutionized the sneaker game and became a global figure for basketball and the NBA. Kobe's relentless grit and resolve cemented him as an icon in NBA history. Steph Curry changed the way we play the game through his world-class shooting. That's what makes them great. LeBron didn't exactly change the game, but he's a role model and hero to kids growing up in the same conditions he did. He inspires hope in these kids and gives back to the communities that raised him. To me, that's even better than being the GOAT.

What makes Magic Kingdom the kingdom of magic? It's always felt magical - that's why it was my favorite vacation spot since my very first visit at 3 years old. Growing up, I was labeled a strange kid because my notebooks were full of half-written stories, sketches of inventions, and handmade roller coaster schematics, while most of the other kids had doodles and pictures of their dogs. But Magic Kingdom was a place where I fit in with the dreamers and schemers, and my imagination was finally celebrated. First of all, I loved the character meet and greets. The characters already felt so alive and vibrant in the movies, but to see them at breakfast was on the next level. If they could become real, who said any of my characters couldn't be either? It inspired me to come up with characters and stories of my own, and I crossed my fingers that one day my characters would come to life too. But I also loved the roller coasters and rides. Not only were they exhilarating and fun, but every tiny detail of the ride matched its theme, from the color of the coaster down to the wall decor in the line to wait. Waiting didn't seem so tedious when there were murals of scenes from the movies, TV screens creating the backstory for the ride, and characters' voices booming through the loudspeakers to remind us to wait our turn. I used to draw out rides I wanted to make that I thought they should add, complete with waiting area decorations and a tediously drawn-out map of how the ride should work. I hoped when they were good enough, I could send them to Disney one day and see my ride be built. While I'm not going to grow up to be a writer or a roller coaster engineer, Magic Kingdom gave me something even better than a career plan - it showed me how to dream and create. I learned that I could make anything I wanted to, and reality was what I chose to make it. Magic Kingdom celebrates all the movies Disney has ever made, each beautiful in a unique way. Without my frequent visits as a child, I never would understand the value of being original and coming up with something brand new. I still use these traits even as a budding scientist. Sometimes I have to step away from the conventional way and create a different way of running an experiment. Other times I have to think up new experiments to run. Without the creative mindset Disney cultivated in me, these seemingly mundane tasks would be exceptionally harder. My favorite thing about Disney, and Magic Kingdom in particular, is that it taught me to dare to dream and be different. Every visit stirred a surge in creativity and wonder in my young mind, and I would not be at the place in my life I am today without that creativity and wonder. Disneyworld opened my mind up to all the possibilities the world can offer me, and that is definitely magical.

When looking back on my years of playing soccer, it's hard to name the best time. I loved soccer, and playing alongside my friends is forever a happy memory for me. But if I absolutely had to choose, I would say the year that my then-rec team decided to join a club. The coach asked his daughter's friends and a couple of other girls to try out for Solar Soccer Club. I was proud to be chosen to try out, and even prouder to make the team. I didn't always feel like a good player in such a competitive and talented company, but my parents, who coached high school soccer, told me that I was good, just not the best. This fostered a drive and desire to be the best. something that still motivates me today. I improved as a soccer player and as a person, and I would never be where I am today if I hadn't learned to fight to be better. I eventually had to leave the club scene because of this drive. I could hardly stand not being the best, so I took a break that ended up lasting for three years. I rejoined on a rec level, which relieved the pressure I felt. But that pressure made me into who I am today, and I still look at my old Solar uniforms fondly. The worst time in my soccer career is much easier to pinpoint. I went through a time when I was about 10 when anxiety completely took over my life. I could barely function without worrying. What if I messed up? What if I couldn't do it? Any soccer player or athlete knows this is the moment you've lost. The second you don't believe in yourself, your opponent can see that. And as a young child, none of my peers could understand why I hesitated, why I obsessed and fretted over every small mistake. To make matters worse, I began to gain a lot of weight. After years, we discovered that it was due to my body's inability to process complex sugars and starches. But back then, we had no idea what was causing it. These factors led me to quit the sport for good - I was too embarrassed and stressed to play the sport I once loved with every fiber in my being. While it was a sad time for me, it started me on the road to taking care of my mental and physical health, which saved my life. Today, I use the memory of this time to remind myself not to let my anxiety rule me, and just breathe. I still love the sport and it's still a big part of my life - we watch matches on TV, I referee soccer, and I help coach my brother's team. I like to believe that my career isn't over, just in a different stage. As I watch the kids I ref, I reminisce on my playing days and smile. Soccer taught me so many lessons not just in the best and the worst, but in every practice and game. This scholarship will help me afford to go to college, where I plan to double major in biomedical engineering and a still-debated second major. I hope to use these majors to go on to be a research and development pharmacist, where I plan to develop medicines to address the medical issues that have plagued my life. I hope to help future generations to avoid the obstacles that ended my soccer career, so no one has to go through what I did.

As a mixed Latina in a predominantly white private school, I often struggle with identity. I feel too Hispanic for my white classmates, but my fellow students of color often scoff and say I'm still technically white. This constant identity crisis often leads me to question where I fit in. But my personality is often too big or wild for people, and I found myself struggling to figure out who I was supposed to be to fit in. That all changed when I met Ms. D, my ninth-grade history teacher and my APUSH teacher this year. Generally, I disliked all my history classes in school, but she taught me the importance of history. When we know the world's history, we can avoid repeating the bad parts and instead follow in the footsteps of the men and women who made the world what it is today. History is almost always repeating, but it's a historian's job to make sure we're repeating the good parts. I've grown to love history, and even watch the news more frequently than I used to. Ms. D always says we have to watch the history unfolding in front of us so we can tell it to later generations. History isn't just the big things, but the little things we pass down throughout our families, and I never would've known how important it is without Ms. D's freshman class. My history is important, and I should never disregard important moments in my life. After all, someday it may be history. Not only did Ms. D teach me the importance of history, but she also taught me that it's okay to be myself. While other kids rolled their eyes or laughed at her crazy stories, funny mannerisms, or displays of emotion, I sat in quiet awe that there was someone right in front of me who finally showed me it's okay to be abnormal. As I grew into my personality, she remained a role model who reminded me that the best thing to be is yourself. I still struggle with feeling like I don't fit in, but I'm comforted by the fact that I will always have Ms. D's love regardless of how strange I may seem by society's standards. I can be loud and wild and all over the place, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with who I am. Despite the amazing things I learned about history and being myself, the greatest lesson I learned from Ms. D was how to not let society define me as a woman of color. She was fully Hispanic but did not have the stereotypical olive skin tone that my dad, uncle, and grandparents have. She was the only other fair-skinned Latina I had ever met, and it boosted my confidence enormously to see someone else who embraced her heritage even though people treated her like she shouldn't. Ms. D helped me arrive at a place in my life where I can be proud of both my Hispanic heritage and white heritage instead of worrying about which side I should fit into. Ms. D told me that society can barely decide what it wants me to be, so maybe I should just be who I am regardless of the stereotype of the week. As I head into my senior year, I carry this philosophy with me as a daily reminder that only I can define myself, and everyone else just needs to be okay sometimes. While I only had her for two years, Ms. D changed my life. Thanks to her, I am unapologetically me. So thank you, Ms. D., truly.

It's so hard to eat. Every meal is a risk, and I hate taking risks. I have to live my life in constant worry that I'll make myself sick, and the worst part is I don't even know exactly what I have. All I know is what the doctors tell me: my pancreas is producing very abnormal levels of insulin, which is why I have constant headaches, dizzy spells, and stomachaches. Every meal causes stomachaches and fatigue; I feel lightheaded walking to class from the cafeteria. There's no specific medicine I can take, so I have to take Metformin, a medicine for a disease I don't have. It's embarrassing, as well, to explain to my friends why I look like something's wrong, or why I all of a sudden can't finish my meal. It's hard to explain, but I'm getting used to the questions. No, I'm not diabetic. No, I don't need surgery. Yes, I take medication for it. No, I don't need insulin shots. I also worry about my medication, if it'll hurt more than it helps since I don't have the disease it treats. I also feel ashamed, as many people assume that I have this condition because I'm overweight. Quite the opposite is true: I'm overweight because of this condition. My body can't process the food I eat, meaning it doesn't dispose or store it properly. This leads to added fat and a lifetime of high school shame and embarrassment. This has inspired me to create medicines not just for mainstream conditions like anxiety and depression, but for out-of-the-way conditions, like mine or my mom's (systemic lupus erythematosus). People shouldn't have to be ashamed or worried about their conditions, they just need to get treated. I want to become a research and development pharmacist and create medicines for these people so that no one has to be embarrassed or confused with their bodies. I want to be the person that helps the world's unknown diseases, the diseases that sound made up and no one's ever heard of them. People should have medicines that are specifically tailored to their body's deficiency or surplus, not medicines that will help some of them. My mom has to take so many medications for her lupus because no one specific medicine will help her. I want to change that and make every disease addressed and cared about. No one should have to take care of their health partway or somewhat - every life is valuable, and every life can be changed.

I would have everyone read Rafa, Rafael Nadal's autobiography. The way he describes his upbringing and the importance of qualities like humility and hard work has impacted me tremendously and I think that we would all benefit from taking a peek into his mindset. Nadal is one of my heroes, not only as someone who loves sports but as a role model. He shows incredible strength of character not only in wins but in losses. He has never said a bad word about any of his opponents, no matter what occurs during a match. My favorite personality trait of Nadal, however, lies in his undying loyalty and connection to his family. I think everyone should try to mirror his family's closeness and love for one another; it can only lead to more good in the world. However, one must also look at Nadal's dominance in tennis. It takes someone special to win 22 Grand Slam titles, and I think the whole world needs to see what led him to be so dominant. A lot can be learned from the greats, such as perseverance. Nadal overcame many obstacles in his childhood, and I recovered from a major ACL and meniscus reconstruction last year by following his example. Nadal has also taught himself to let go of the last point he just played. There's no need to dwell, just focus on winning the next point. While this is a lesson for tennis, it can also be applied to life. When you focus on your future instead of regretting the past, it will change the way you live your life. This book would benefit the world, and I can say from personal experience that reading this book will change your life and how you live it.

I think one of the worst feelings in the world is watching a beautiful person suffer and not being able to do anything. So I'm going to find a way to do something about it because I can't watch the people I care about hurt anymore. I've lost several people, including my grandfather and childhood best friend, and the fact that I couldn't save them haunts me every day. Knowing that I have this pain and guilt bothers me because I know I'm not the only one who feels this way - like they let their loved one down. My career of choice is as a research and development pharmacist, where I will develop new medicines targeted to various diseases. I have been drawn to this career by my strong desire to help others be relieved of their pain, as I loathe seeing others in pain. This has driven me to take steps in my journey to this career, the most important step being my 2023 internship at UT Southwestern Medical Center under Daisuke Hattori looking at neural circuits. I hope that my research and medicines will help those with illnesses worldwide. When people are sick and in the hospital, it hurts not only them but the people who love them, and I want my medicines and research to help minimize the pain in the world, even if it's one person at a time. I want to specifically focus on mental health problems, however, as that is a problem that not only affects those with mental health problems but their surrounding friends, family, and community. It is a majorly stigmatized topic, but people need help regardless of the social acceptance of their condition. I hope that the effects of my work could permeate throughout the world, not just in my region. It's not recognition that I am pursuing but results, and I would gladly be forever unknown if my medicine could change lives for the better. Another way I want to positively impact the world is through my humanitarian actions. I believe that the first 10% of my paycheck should belong to giving back to my community, whether it be donating to a charity or buying food for the homeless. I also believe that it's important to dedicate some of your time to helping those less fortunate than you through volunteer work, which is something I will do for the rest of my life. I hope that simply my presence on this earth will provide some positive impact and that that can be enough.

I want to be someone who is okay with failure but continues to grow, and doesn't let society define her by her failures.

Camilo was my best friend growing up. He was at every single event, no matter what. We drifted apart as we grew older, but we remained good friends. I was always so glad to see him. About 5 years ago, we got the call that the doctor had discovered bone cancer in his leg. Life became a whirlwind of calls and well-wishing cards, but we never went to see him. I was always so scared to see him reduced to a cancer patient confined to his bed instead of the happy 10-year-old he should've been. It went away after a long fight with chemo. We spent New Year's together like we used to, and everything was fine. Until it came back. I only visited him near the end, when they put him in hospice. Even then I still hung out outside with everyone else, too nervous to go talk to my friend. When I finally went inside, he was so excited to see me, but I could hardly meet his eyes. We talked for a while until it was time to go, and then I told him I'd see him soon. But the cancer won about a month after that, and I hadn't gone back. Every day I think about how I didn't visit him, didn't tell him I cared. He had no idea how worried I was for him because I never told him. I don't want to have any regrets like the ones I have for Camilo. Now, I live my life as if every time I see someone is the last. Our time together is not guaranteed, and it's awful that I had to lose someone to realize that. My last words to him echo in my mind frequently, and the guilt can be crushing if I let it be. How naive I was, to tell the cancer patient I'd see him soon, as if his next day wasn't a question. Even today, Camilo still teaches me lessons. Always tell people you love them. Don't let your fear stop you from letting people know you care. Visit the people you love in the hospital, because you never know when their last day is. Be joyful, even in the middle of tragedy. Camilo loved to write songs and sing them, and one of my favorite memories is the video he made of him singing a song he wrote, hospital gown and all. Most of all, Camilo taught me to care and care a lot. Care enough to push past your fear, and live your life fully. It's okay to care and to let people know you care. I hope Camilo knows how much I care, because I really did.

Do you remember the book about buckets when you were younger? Everyone has a bucket, and being unkind to someone else empties their bucket. However, your kindness can also fill their bucket, and sometimes filling someone else's bucket can fill yours too. Our teachers used to make displays with a bucket for every student. You could write a nice thing and put it in their bucket, or you could take one out and crumple it up. I loved to write the nicest things I could think of to put in my classmates' buckets. That concept continues to drive me today. I love to help people and make a difference in people's day, or maybe their lives. However, due to my severe anxiety, I struggle with going out in the world to make that difference. I find myself wanting to stay home instead, where I feel it's safe. But when I allow my anxiety to rule my life, I allow it to take away that difference. I can't make a difference to anyone if I'm hiding, so I've had to find ways to avoid hiding from my life. A coping mechanism I have found is music. Not only for myself but for others. Music instantly relaxes me, and my joy in hearing my favorite song oftentimes makes others smile, allowing me to bring some positive difference to their day. I love to put on an upbeat song that creates a sense of safety around me, regardless of the literal safety of my situation. This has helped me to reach many people and share my joy with them, something I love doing. Another coping mechanism is the adage "fake it til you make it". I adapted it to mean that even when I'm anxious or not comfortable, I have to convince myself that I can do it. Dealing with my anxiety doesn't mean it goes away, it means it doesn't control every aspect of my life. This saying has helped me take back control of my fear and frees me to go out and minister to people. My biggest goal in life is to become a research and development pharmacist to develop new medicines to help people. However, I specifically want to focus on anxiety and depression medications, to help people avoid the pain I have gone through. It would be a dream to be the person who helped put an end to this misery and allow so many people to live their lives free of that heart-racing, roller coaster drop feeling that has dominated my life and decisions since I was 13.

Because, unlike life, math is simple. There's no subtext to read, or context to misread. There are numbers and variables. All the information needed is given. You take numbers and plug them into equations. There are no feelings in math, just numbers and equations. Math is constant. Right is right and wrong is wrong. There are no grey areas in math, and you can argue until you're blue in the face but you can't make a wrong answer right. But the world will argue and argue until they've changed the definition of right and wrong, making it infinitely confusing. But math is not subjective, and cannot be changed by arguing. Math is fun. It's like a puzzle that you have to keep solving. Fit each number into its designated place and you'll find your answer, like fitting two puzzle pieces together. And math is better than puzzles. You don't lose pieces in math problems. It's all right there on the page, safe and sound. And math is a pathway to more knowledge. Each time you solve an equation, you're gaining more knowledge, and training your brain to use your logic skills. It fits hand in hand with science, leading to endless mounds of knowledge. It's not cool, but it's math. And I like math a whole lot better than the real world.

About a year ago, I realized that I wanted to kill myself. I felt hopeless and angry. But deep down a part of me knew I wasn't done here. Every day I thank the one voice of reason in my mind that told me to talk to someone. I had a long talk with my mom, and after a lot of tears, we decided therapy and most likely medication would be a good idea. I want to become a research and development pharmacist and develop new medicines, and one medicine I am particularly looking forward to experimenting with is medicines that help those with anxiety and depression. I don't want anyone to have to deal with that realization that you don't want to be here anymore. Especially because I didn't want to die - I just didn't want to live the way I had been. I needed a change, and one path that eased some of the pain was seeing a psychiatrist. When my anxiety and depression began to improve, I realized that there was hope for my life. And in taking classes like chemistry and biology, I found a purpose. Not everyone has that random voice of reason that saved my life, and not everyone's story has my ending. But I want to give everyone the best chance possible at the life I have now, because I wouldn't trade it for the world.