A majority of people are challenged by their emotions over their mental health, yet my scales weigh in the opposite direction. My amount of mental health struggles is linked to my Autism; although the numbers fluctuate and there are times my problems are nonexistent, it does not take too much to overthink an interaction or panic about an upcoming event. My grandest source of distress is whenever my workload from school overtakes the majority of my waking hours for days at a time. Movements turn frantic and I deprive myself of sleep during those periods. Despite my introverted tendencies and challenges in understanding social norms, my mental and emotional well-being thrives when I share my interests with others. Conversation starters and small talk are not natural to me, but drawing allows me to get my passions across without the awkwardness of meeting somebody new. Fixations fuel my artwork more than tears or rage ever could. Expressing my negative emotions through creative media only fatigues me further, while capturing the things I love rejuvenates my spirits and mental stability. Just as art helps me at my lowest, others can find their minds soothed and their hearts lighter when they engage in any creative medium. It should not be limited solely to drawing - the art form most associated with the idea of art - but should encompass all types of imaginative expression. Poor skills in one subject do not have to be a crutch, since you could practice and improve it. People could take up multiple mediums at once if they feel inspired and relieved from the process of making it. The end results will vary in aesthetic beauty, but the true effort behind it is what helps them heal mentally and emotionally. The three pieces are different aspects of my creative process. My absurdist self portrait depicts how my abundant interests (as depicted as a liquid littered with representations of the things I like) overflow from my eyes and mouth, while character concepts emerge from my brain like an extreme version of a thought bubble. I am normally unable to stop myself from talking about the things I like, but I don’t get the opportunity to start. Held in my hands is a TV with a worried critter observing the chaos from behind the screen. It’s an interpretation of the anxiety I carry whenever I talk to someone, especially if their knowledge of my interests is surface level. The second piece is what it’s like when I’m around someone who understands and reciprocates my creativity. Collaborating on stories and ideas is one of my biggest sparks of inspiration, and is great for fully leaving my worries behind. The stand-in for all of my friends is deliberately abstract to exemplify how the outward appearance of a person doesn’t matter to me - it’s the openness to my true self that makes me like them. The comic-like storyboard shows only one of my stories, yet its panels parallel the meaning behind the prior artwork. These two characters are my current project, and I’ve dedicated an entire month to their development. A girl sharing berries with a strange animal may seem bland, but it’s the starting scene for a story analyzing the nature and growth of unlikely friendships. I have no power to stop myself from working on their ideas and many others in the future, but the love I share for my creations heavily reduces the pain present in my heart, mind, and soul.

Since the moment I was born, I could never live a normal life. As someone with Autism Spectrum Disorder, I keep encountering social hurdles and perplexing school problems that I still struggle to resolve. At first, it was fairly easy to make friends with the other kids; all I had to do was share the same interests as them, and it just so happened that the things I liked were some of the most popular cartoons, toys, and video games in elementary school. While the school did provide a special education class, I never placed there. My understanding of subjects and tendency to answer questions faster kept me afloat with my neurotypical classmates. However, my brother entering 6th grade in a different school led to my parents transferring me there for 4th grade. The prospect of leaving my established friends behind left me in a grieving depression in the last weeks of 3rd grade. I forgot about it over the summer, but I was too busy remembering the friends I lost (distance-wise) to make friends. A lonesome hermit, I spent my recesses wandering the perimeter of the playground and indulged in my thoughts. I eventually made two friends that year, but both had to seek me out, and the second one annoyed me into being her friend from obligation. 5th grade brought my sociability back to what it once was, until the COVID-19 pandemic three years later isolated me a second time. Online schooling was easy to pass, since staying at home let me force my way into getting the right answers. Rather than texting my friends consistently, I relied on online groups, Roblox, and YouTube videos to feel something. Socially, I can navigate high school; the real problem lies with the steeper learning incline. Sophomore year began the pattern of rolled out classes with subjects I had no prior familiarity with. Long study and homework hours often steals sleep from me. The following insomnia causes my weekends to consist of sleeping for around half the day. Friends help ease my stress, but I unintentionally limited my deepest thoughts to a select number of friends that don’t go to my school. My grades are consistently above 90 and my weighted grade point average stands over 4.00, but my mental health makes my brain overwhelmed by the amount of tasks I need to complete within my limited time frame.

Digital art and animation stands as my primary passion in life; it’s my most beloved way to express my ideas, feelings, and thoughts. A majority of my drawings focus on characters I keep inventing. Sometimes they’re one-off designs that I’m compelled to see outside of my mind. Other times they belong to stories and concepts I try to flesh out. I often grow attached to at least one character in these ideas, which motivates my desire to draw their world more. I also find myself entering a bit of therapeutic bliss whenever I draw. Scribbling, coloring, and getting my thoughts across ease my nerves more than I would expect when I first picked up drawing. Art distracts my fidgeting hands better than any stim toy, and I end up more productive afterwards. When focused on a drawing, I can then channel that energy into another task, such as chores and homework. One factoid I find interesting about my passion is my tendency to draw without thinking. Idly working away at an art piece you don’t plan for always ends up as a pleasant surprise. These tend to be figures of random animals or sketches of people devoid of detailed features, yet their simplicity captives me. Like any beginner artist, I started with sketches overflowing my notebooks in elementary school. Figures were malformed and my lines wobbled, but my confidence never wavered. During yet another drawing spree in fifth grade, my YouTube recommendations offered someone’s original independent cartoon pilot, enlightening me on the world of internet animators. The creative floodgates opened permanently as I devoted my life to learning the skills and terminology of the animation industry. My drawings improved, my characters developed, and my imagination finally found an outlet I could stick to. It taught me I could make my own animations, inspiring my audience as I had before. On my journey, I entered an independent after school program, where I met others with similar stories as mine. We formed a boisterous camaraderie, one of trust and emotional support, as our artistic prowess evolved in tandem. While I’m not in that program anymore, we still text each other jokes and complements daily. For every rant, ramble, and emotional breaking point, we lend our empathy and kindness to one another. Adults often praise my academic pursuits whenever they learn of my accomplishments, yet my true love lies in what I create.

Every world I create, both survival and creative mode, needs a home. I love building a big house for myself, with different blocks and layouts depending on the server. It gives my spawn points a nice atmosphere that I pretend to live in. My first few homes, when I played on my Xbox 360, were either compact wooden cubes, repurposed Villager houses, or gaudy golden mansions. The older I grew, the more advanced my building style became. Stairs turned into roof tiles, slabs were made into porches, and my walls and floors consisted of wool and fancier stone blocks. Decorations were soon added to my houses, with my favorites being paintings, book shelves, and jukeboxes. It wasn't long before I made every home layout similar to ones in real life. I made sofas out of stairs that overlooked wool televisions covered by paintings, fridges with dispensers full of food, and bunk beds with a ladder for easy access. Each house of mine has three constants: a living area for my chests, a bedroom for my spawn point, and an entire room for all the animals I collect. A habit I developed was my large collection of pets, every single one named and personified. With how attached I was, it was natural to build their own giant room in my house. Most animal beds were dyed carpet, with untamable mobs living in chain cages. My favorite pets received lavish animal sheds - with beds, chests, and furniture- near my home. That way, I know they're safe while I'm wandering the Overworld and the Nether. A server isn't complete without a house to return to after exploring biomes and fighting mobs.