I can count on my fingers the amount of times I've talked to my mother. From the moment I was born, she was always in and out of jail, and due to this, I was put under the care of my grandmother. I am eternally grateful for her taking me under her roof and being there for me when my mother never was. I can't say I didn’t in the slightest feel like a burden—all because my mother could not properly care for me and that she'd rather choose to constantly find herself in a new situation and therefore be locked up for what felt like an eternity. Her literal imprisonment acted as metaphorical imprisonment for me growing up. I always went about my day thinking that if my own mother could heartlessly abandon me, it was my fault—that there was something wrong with me. Drastically affecting me mentally, it started to take root and even transmit itself into my academics, causing me to tremendously fall behind in my freshman year of high school. I had absolutely no care in the world, and my freshman year was one of the darkest times in my life. While I was going to school seemingly every day, I had no drive or motivation to do any work, and thus my grades dropped, even leading to me failing a class. This forced me to give up my summer the year going into my sophomore year to recover the credits I had missed. As I sat in credit recovery for math class, I began to think about how I got to that point. I had recognized that my problems directly stemmed from the shackles my mother imprisoned me in, years ago, but also, and most pitiful of all, that I was directly letting my grandmother down—the woman who sacrificed her life to take me under her care. Thus I took action and began to defy my own personal conceptions of myself, not only to better my future but to show my grandmother that all her hard work was worth it. From that very moment on, I began to take academics very seriously. Instead of sitting mindlessly in class, I was now attentive, and instead of simply tossing my work to the side, I did it immediately. This shift in my academics marked a pivotal shift in my life as a whole. Every day, week, and academic school year, I was exponentially growing, bringing my once-highest GPA ever achieved from a 2.5 to a 4.2 to a 4.4 respectively. I hope I can continue to put a smile on my grandma's face, one similar to when I showed her my first ever straight-A report card; to informing her I'd been admitted to one of the most prestigious universities in the world. Everything's been tremendously difficult, and I know I still have a lot to overcome as a future first-generation college student, but I'm hopeful for myself and my future—especially since I've made it this far.