People are all around me. I watch their every move, my eyes transfixed as if hypnotized by a movie; I cannot tear my eyes away from them. Their voices ring in my ear and stay embedded there, until they're so full I can only hear the soft hum of my breathing. I watch those voices, those people, drift past me, laughing, and smiling, and sharing secrets that only they know. They're like waves, crashing against the shore. And I can do nothing but watch, listening to the waves crash around me as I float aimlessly in still water. There was no direction, no wind or shift in the water to move me. That is what depression is to me. I have been plagued by depression since I was in middle school. I didn't think it was something I had, though. I believed that I was a pretty happy person. I had friends all around me, I was able to laugh and have fun. I couldn't feel that way. But, that oh-so-devastating feeling enraptured me, consumed me until it was all I could feel. I continued to push it away. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to be seen as...weak. Even when I would poke at myself until I would bleed, or bury my head into my pillow, hoping the inky black would turn to the blind light that I was promised. When I moved my junior year, though, my mantra became harder to live by. The details are many, but I went through a tough time. Because of this, my straight A's began to plummet, my motivation was nonexistent, and nothing was fun anymore. All I wanted to do was to go back home. Eventually, my parents took me to see a therapist as well as a physiatrist who put me on medication. Through all of this, I tried to navigate inside myself. I tried to find out why I was the way I was, why I couldn't be...better. One of the biggest things I've learned is that it's not healthy to fight alone. My sister was a big reason why I was, and still am, able to pull myself back from shrinking back into the heaviness, into the blurry faces and muffled voices. I've learned that overcoming myself is how I become greater. I began to get out of my comfort zone and try to view the world differently. I became obsessed with the ideas of psychology and my own experiences, as well as the experiences of those around me, helped me realize that helping people is what I want to do. I don't want people to feel that they're alone, and that they shouldn't seek help. I've learned that just being there can help someone beyond measure. My ultimate goal is to give people the help they need and deserve. From my own life, through my battles inside my mind, I've learned that it's okay to feel like that. I've also learned that I don't have to let it control me. I still have many moments where my depression takes hold, but, I know that it's not the end. It will never be the end because I will never let the wars that rage inside my head win. No one ever should. It's not ever your only choice.

It is okay not to be okay. As someone who struggles with depression and anxiety, which I am now on medication for, I know how it feels not to want to seek help. When I first started to experience signs of depression, I was in ninth grade. I thought of it as nothing more than just having a hard time adjusting to high school, especially after coming back from COVID. I started feeling alone despite having friends around me. I would get angry or irritated, and have periods of deep drag where I wouldn't want to do anything, and living seemed to be a heavy burden. Even through all this, I thought nothing of it. There were people in the world who had bigger issues than I did. I lived a good life with friends around me and a great support system from my parents and siblings, so why should I feel the way I do? I ignored how I felt, how sometimes I would harm myself or collapse into tears for no reason. I ignored the war in my head because I had no valid reason to bring light to it. I felt, if I told someone, they would call me "dramatic." So, I kept quiet. I kept smiling, and as I went through my freshman and sophomore year, I managed to keep it together. Then I moved, and I fell apart. I could feel myself starting to crack, but I believed my long-standing glue would hold me together. Finally, one night after a softball game, I collapsed on my knees and told my dad that I wanted to take my own life as I sobbed in his arms. Everything inside me felt like it was breaking. Then, at that moment, I could admit to myself that I needed help. And that it was okay. Worldwide, over 70% of young people and adults with mental illness do not seek help. Reasons may be because they don't feel safe or validated or even for a reason similar to mine. It is also true to note that teenagers may not feel prompted to get help because of those around them, and the idea that it's weak to get help or mental illnesses aren't real are commonly normalized. Psychology is so important to me for these reasons that persist, and why it's my passion to bring light to those who are suffering. No one should deal with these things alone or feel they cannot seek help when needed. Three of my family members have tried to take their own life, and every time I think of them, my passion for what I want to do grows stronger. I want to do this for them, for me, for Mattie, and for every child who feels that taking their life is the only escape. I plan to develop my studies in clinical psychology and focus on teenage mental health. As this world evolves with technology, human connection, and interaction are as important as ever. Teenagers are the future, and the mental health crisis is not something that is ever going to disappear. This is why I think the Mattie's Way Memorial Scholarship is so inspiring. To keep spreading awareness of mental health issues in teens and encouraging passion in the subject. And I hope, through my career, to do the same. To encourage everyone, whether interested in the field or not, to reach out to someone. A simple call, text, or presence can save someone's life. There's nothing quite so beautiful in the vastness of human kindness.