My name is Jadyn Reid, and I am from Goldsboro, North Carolina. I have been inspired by the amazing educators in my life. Having such incredible and diligent teachers has led me to also pursue a career in education. My goal is to attend a four year school - more specifically, East Carolina University, obtain my teaching degree, and get into a classroom. However, more importantly than a career goal, my long term goal is to make a difference in the lives of young students. At ECU I plan to major in elementary education and possibly minor in a foreign language such as Spanish. I believe that doing so will break down communication barriers that often occur between families and schools, as well as provide another source of knowledge for my future students. As someone who has overcome lots of adversity and difficulties in my life, I know how difficult it can be to show up to school and be a good student. Being familiar with the kinds of challenges my students might face at home will allow me to be more compassionate as I teach, while creating a safe space for young minds to grow and flourish. I have learned to give to those in need by watching the adults in my life. They have always shown up for others, put people before themselves, and taught me to be generous. When I was young, my mother would often take food to the homeless and less fortunate in my community. The irony of it was that we were a part of the less fortunate, as there was a period that she didn’t have a job. Still, she always showed me to care for those in need. The kind of character she instilled in me is exactly what I needed to be a leader in my community and give back to others. Within my four years in high school, I have hosted three public events for the youth and teens. Following freshman year, my peers and I got to hear one another’s stories and songs during my Summer Slam open mic event. I then hosted another gathering for New Years the following semester. Lastly, I put together a group of high school and college students and formed a worship team at just sixteen years old. We hosted an event in the summer, and traveled to a few places to sing. It has become clear in my life that I’m more than capable of taking the initiative and leading, but more importantly to me than being “in charge”, is the fact that I get to share my insight with other people. Being a leader isn’t easy, but having the ability to help others is what makes my role so fulfilling. I am looking forward to continuing this fulfillment once I get to college and even after I have graduated, because impact has longevity and only grows with maturity and time.

There were many instances where death seemed to be but a blink away. It were as though I could see the letters pop up on a black and white screen of a movie saying, “The End”. Though I couldn’t deny its inevitability, I’d always been able to block out the idea that I would die one day- much sooner than later. I thought I could ignore the pressing desire to escape existence, but this time it was different. This time, I was beyond my breaking point, and was certain that the air entering my lungs would be stolen from me one way or another. This time I didn’t run from death. I crawled toward it like a wounded soldier aborting the battlefield, clothes tattered and muddied, eyes red and filled with tears, heart beating the rhythm of goodbye. This time was the day I’d lose. It was the day I gave a part of me away I thought impossible to retrieve. It was the day I died. That day was long yet short, sweet but sorrowful. All the beautiful memories I made were pushed deep into a bottle in the back of my brain. Depression was an airtight cork, keeping me from experiencing the love I felt. It left me able to solely remember the grief and the trauma. The sickness and the sadness. The illness in my head they claimed someone like me couldn’t experience. The disease that told my eyes they weren’t worth opening. Never could I fathom why people called it mental illness when it was my heart that was in danger. My heart- colder than the icy December air, had known brokenness longer than I had cared to admit. My hands were warm from the preexisting guilt of knowing they’d soon attempt murder on their own flesh. With all of this happening, I still wore a smile bright enough to outshine the sun. My conversations were filled with laughter. It was in my nature to make my friends feel as loved as possible even when I felt loved the least. Though there’s the possibility that maybe I couldn’t feel at all. Or maybe what I felt was the presence of darkness coursing through my arteries and into my bloodstream until I became a mere shell. Empty claimed my identity. It started with a letter and ended with a door. My mother had come to get me from the park and I felt something dreadful on the inside of me. It had the taste of anger and shame. The ride home seemed to be an hour long. She dropped me off and went to the store. “I’ll be right back,” she assured me. It didn’t matter because I had gone inside the house that day with my mind made up. Life wasn’t worth living if I had to suffer for so long. The door was a pasty off white color with handles far too easy to unlock. Still I locked both ends of our bathroom and sat with my decision. For some twisted reason, I took a picture of myself. My eyes were filled with hopelessness and despair. It was too late for me. I sat with my back against the wall, feeling the cold tiles beneath me and let out a scream that was completely silent yet loud enough to pierce my soul. Everything after that was the end for me. It was death handed to me just like I wanted. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but I could finally get the relief I longed for. I considered the grief, the funeral expenses, and even considered calling someone to talk me out of it, but this was the path I had chosen. I thought it was finally over. It wasn’t. Though I survived, I lost a part of me that day. Truthfully I’m still trying to process what that means for my life. I was a 13 year old, just barely making it through the 8th grade, who in due time realized surviving wasn’t as glamorous as people make it out to be. I wanted to do something beyond survive. There was a part of me that longed to enjoy every breath I took and wake up with anticipation for the days ahead of me. But I didn’t. Instead I snapped back to reality and returned to the miserable life I so desperately sought liberation from. It seemed as though nothing changed. Surviving felt like more of a curse than a reason to celebrate.