My best friend Dice was so much more than just a friend; they were my partner in crime, my sibling by choice, and my inspiration. We became close through their own trying times, when Dice endured things that would have broken the hearts of most. Dice's strength was evident despite facing mistreatment from their adoptive mother, being bullied at school to the point of staying home for homeschooling, and coping in an environment where they felt hated by the world. Our friendship provided a refuge where we could escape and find comfort in each other's presence. We spoke for over 8 hours on end, having the silliest conversations about anything; from worms getting married, to whether bagels were lunch or dessert food (they are in fact, lunch food), to making the funniest inside jokes that only we could understand. We constantly found joy in each other and  laughed together, despite the harsh realities of life. But silently, Dice struggled. Their sadness was worsened when they tried to contact Child Protective Services for help but were received with incredulity. I watched helplessly as Dice struggled with their inner demons over time because of this disbelief, their optimism gradually fading despite our constant silly conversations. Sadly, Dice decided to take their own life two years ago, leaving a insatiable empty space in my heart. I was left alone and struggling with sadness, and a deep feeling of loss after they passed away. But even in the middle of the suffering, our memories and conversations gave me a fresh sense of purpose. I found solace in reading our texts, which brought back images of Dice's strong spirit and our common hopes for a better future. Inspired by a desire to pay tribute to Dice's memory and bring about significant change, I set out to promote reform in the CPS system. This enthusiasm resulted in the production of a 5 minute podcast "The Disappearing Act," which aimed to expose the shortcomings of CPS and promote systemic changes. I put everything I had into this project. Its recognition as an honorable mention out of over 1,100 global submissions in the New York Times podcast competition demonstrated how important this cause is to me. Even if they are not physically here, I can still confidently say that  Dice is still my best friend. Their ability to adapt to hardship, their optimism in spite of this hardship, and their constant resolve to keep moving forward inspire me every day. They shaped who I am and gave me the courage to face the challenges of life by showing me what resilience and compassion really mean. Essentially, Dice and I had a friendship that went beyond simple companionship; it was a deep connection that still serves as my source of guidance. My dedication to change and making sure that no one else experiences the same kind of silent suffering as they did carries on their legacy. My closest friend, my older sibling, Dice, will always be treasured and dearly missed.

New Super Mario Bros Wii holds a special place in my heart, not just as a game, but as a bond I share with my sisters. It's been an essential part of our home since 2013, bringing hours of entertainment and, let's be honest, a fair amount of frustration and rage. Nevertheless, our shared joy and experiences make it my favorite Nintendo multiplayer game. One memorable moment that stands out is when my sisters and I decided to take on the challenge of completing the game and finding all the star coins before heading off to college. Although it seemed easy enough, I can assure you that it's anything but. Our journey encountered a detour in World 6, an area where our combined abilities started to weaken. There's this underground level in World 6 where you must push buttons and navigate through the rising water. Although it seems simple, it became an unfortunate series of mistakes. Though none of us particularly love World 6, we went into the level with great expectations because of our competitive nature. When starting the level, my twin sister had 49 lives, our younger sister had 28, and I had 60. But before long, those lives began to become smaller and smaller. We had to take a break to reorganize because we kept dying. We did this and came back with a fresh plan. Of course, it didn't work at all. Even our mom offered to help, but we politely declined (she's not exactly a pro gamer, or better than any of us). Despite the setbacks, we pushed on, determined to complete the level. It wasn't pleasant. We died several times, were eaten by piranha plants, and more times than I'd like to confess, we had to repeatedly press the A button to come back alive in our bubbles. Our life counts had suffered by the time we had completed the level. My twin had 18 lives left, and our younger sister had to use 'continue lives' twice. I was down to 32. We're still stuck on World 6 as of right now, but at least we've reached the first tower, so that's progress! It may be a little ambitious of us to finish the game before college, but what joy is there in easy victory? Reflecting on our time spent playing New Super Mario Bros. Wii, even as kids, it becomes clear that the experience has been more about our shared excitement than just winning the game. Every memory, from the hilarious late-night gaming sessions to the times of collective annoyance, bears witness to our close relationship as siblings. I'm confident that wherever we go in the next chapter of our lives, Mario will remind us of the joy, the difficulties, and the unshakable link that characterizes our relationship.