Imagine trying to run a race with one ankle constantly aching, weighed down by hardware and chronic pain. Now imagine doing that while carrying not only your own dreams but the responsibility of caring for your mother, all while navigating a world not built for you. This is my reality—and it’s also the fire that fuels my ambition. My name is Katie Corbett, and I am a junior at The University of North Texas, majoring in Political Science with a minor in Conflict and Human Security and Emergency Management. I’m pursuing this path because I want to be a politician who changes the system from the inside, especially for people like me—women, survivors, and those living with disabilities. My left ankle carries the story of a violent assault I endured in high school, leaving me with arthritis, implanted hardware, and chronic pain that will eventually require a full ankle replacement. This disability makes simple tasks challenging and public spaces often inaccessible. Yet, these barriers have only strengthened my resolve. I have sought out leadership and hands-on experience to prepare myself for the work ahead. I have completed internships in a congressional office and a legal office, gaining invaluable insight into lawmaking and advocacy. At UNT, I serve on the Executive Council of the Political Science Association, and I hold four leadership positions within my sorority: Director of Sisterhood, Alumni Relations Chair, Member Enrichment Chair, and Public Relations Chair. These roles have sharpened my skills in organizing, communication, and community building—qualities essential for effective leadership. In high school, I completed dual enrollment at two universities, founded a club to raise awareness and funds for sexual assault victims, and balanced caregiving for my mother while graduating in good standing. These experiences taught me resilience, time management, and the power of advocacy. To me, independence is more than physical mobility—it’s the power to define my future, make my own choices, and advocate for myself and others. Education is my vehicle to that independence. It equips me with the tools to challenge injustices and create policies that make life better and more accessible for people with disabilities. This scholarship would ease the financial burdens that come with managing my disability and allow me to focus fully on my studies and advocacy. With the knowledge and skills I gain, I will not only live independently but help build a world where independence is accessible to all. Thank you for considering my journey.

Imagine trying to run a race, but you look down and one of your feet begin to fail you, weighing you down with every step riddled in pain and the physical heaviness you feel knowing your body is decorated in hardware and inflammation. Now I want you to imagine that pain, aching, and exhaustion just with the weight of your body. Well for me, it's not just the weight of myself, it's also the weight of trying to open doors for myself in a world that's not built for me. This is my reality I face every day, and while it can be daunting, it's what fuels my ambition. My name is Katie Corbett, and I am a junior at the University of North Texas, majoring in political science, minoring in conflict and human security, and emergency management. The reason I am wanting to pursue this career is because I am very tired of waiting for change in advocating for individuals whom may not be able to advocate for themselves, and by being in politics, i will be able to make big changes in the system, helping people like me - women, survivors, and people living with disabilities. My left ankle is a permanent memorial that encapsulates the violence I fell victim to in my youth that affects me to this day, inside and out. I was left damaged, carrying around the past of the things I am no longer physically able to do, and an injury that has tried many times to stop me, whether physically, or emotionally. My injury has even come into the way of my education, as a pissed the entirety of my sophomore year due to intense physical therapy I required to re learn how to walk as well as limiting my mobility that keeps me from being able to walk to my classes sometime in college, especially without a car. But I believe that what I have had to experience has heavily fueled my drive for advocacy. Even in high school, still being faced with my abuser every day, I refused to let my physical condition hold me back. I completed over 20 credits through dual enrollment in the legal field while in high school, founded an organization in my school dedicated for survivors of domestic violence, all while remaining in good academic standing, balancing extensive physical therapy, and being the primary caretaker of my mother who has stage 4 cancer and is no longer able to work. My independence has had to grow into more than just my physical capabilities but also allowing myself to take big steps for my feature and education. Education is really my only vehicle to independence. It provides be with the foundation I need to make big changes for the things I believe in. This scholarship would help me further my education. With the knowledge and skills, I gain, I will not only live independently but help build a world where independence is accessible to all. Thank you for listening to my story.

Losing my grandfather at thirteen was one of the most profound experiences of my life. He was more than just a grandparent—he was a father figure who raised my brother and me, providing us with love, guidance, and stability. His passing from a devastating lung disease left a void that could never truly be filled. At such a young age, I struggled to process the loss, feeling as though the foundation of my childhood had been shaken. His absence left my family reeling, and I was forced to grow up faster than most, learning resilience in the face of grief. Three years after my grandfather’s death, our family faced another heartbreaking battle. My aunt, his daughter, was diagnosed with the same lung disease that had taken him from us. Her condition rapidly deteriorated, leaving her in end-stage lung failure. Watching her struggle was a painful reminder of what we had already lost, but her determination to keep fighting gave me hope. After enduring a grueling wait, she received a double lung transplant that gave her a second chance at life. We celebrated every milestone with her, grateful for each day that she was given. For nearly five years, she defied the odds. But just days before celebrating her transplant anniversary, the disease returned. Now, she is in hospice care, and we are once again facing the unbearable reality of losing someone we love. This journey has been one of heartbreak, but it has also been one of perseverance. Witnessing my family’s struggles has strengthened my resolve to push forward despite the pain. I have learned that grief does not define me—it fuels me to work harder, to cherish every moment, and to honor the legacies of those I have lost. The losses I have endured have shaped me in ways I never could have imagined. They have instilled in me an unwavering determination to succeed, to create a future that would make my grandfather proud. His sacrifices and love gave me the strength to continue my education, and despite the challenges I have faced, I refuse to let grief stand in my way. Winning this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of my education but would also serve as a tribute to the family members who shaped me. Their memory drives me forward, and I am committed to honoring them through my ambition, perseverance, and success through my future career, and the impact I make here on my campus.

For two years, I couldn’t walk. I broke three bones in my ankle, and what should have been a straightforward recovery turned into a lifelong disability. Three surgeries, permanent hardware in my leg, and ongoing arthritis and mobility challenges have ensured that my life will never be the same. But in many ways, that struggle has given me purpose. Before my injury, I was an athlete—on the surf team, a cheer captain, and always moving. Suddenly, I was forced to experience the world differently. Simple tasks became exhausting battles. Public spaces lacked ramps. Sidewalks were uneven. I couldn’t enter certain buildings without help. But what frustrated me the most wasn’t just the physical barriers—it was how society saw me differently. People spoke to me as if I was fragile, as if I had lost my ability to contribute, and at times, as if I was invisible. This experience radicalized my understanding of policy and accessibility. I saw firsthand how decisions made by lawmakers, city planners, and institutions either include or exclude people like me. That realization is what pushed me toward politics and advocacy. I want to be a part of the decision-making process, ensuring that disability rights, healthcare accessibility, and equal opportunities aren’t just afterthoughts, but fundamental priorities. I’ve already started putting this drive into action. As Director of Sisterhood for my sorority, I made it a priority to create inclusive events where every member—regardless of ability—felt fully welcomed. As an intern for Congressman Anthony D'Esposito and a corporation council intern in Long Beach, NY, I saw how legislation can either empower or hinder marginalized communities. I also worked to bring back the UNT College Democrats, because I believe political engagement is the key to lasting change. My disability is permanent, but so is my determination. I refuse to let systemic inaccessibility prevent others from living full and independent lives. I want to work in public policy and government, ensuring that no one is denied opportunities simply because the world wasn’t designed for them. Disability isn’t a limitation—it’s a perspective, a political issue, and a fight that I am ready to take on. This scholarship would help me continue my education and expand my ability to advocate for a future where accessibility, healthcare, and disability rights are non-negotiable priorities. I plan to use my experiences—the struggles, the frustrations, and the resilience they instilled in me—to create policies that uplift and include everyone. Because no one should have to fight just to exist in a world that should already belong to all of us.

I grew up surrounded by people who dedicated their lives to making a difference. My father, a firefighter and police officer in New York, spent his career running toward danger to protect others. The values he instilled in me—service, integrity, and resilience—have shaped my passion for advocacy and my pursuit of a political science degree at the University of North Texas. Watching him and others in my community fight to make things better inspired me to take action in my own way—through policy, leadership, and change-making. From an early age, I saw how one person’s commitment could ripple outward, impacting an entire community. This realization motivated me to step into leadership roles, whether as Director of Sisterhood for my sorority, where I built a supportive and inclusive environment, or as an intern for Congressman Anthony D'Esposito, where I saw firsthand how policy affects everyday lives. My time working with the corporation council in Long Beach, NY, further solidified my understanding that real change starts with those willing to stand up and fight for it. Beyond my formal roles, I have been committed to reviving the UNT College Democrats, aiming to give students a space to engage in political activism and civic discourse. My goal is to amplify voices that often go unheard, ensuring that policies are made with the people they affect in mind. I hope to use my career to shape policies that address systemic inequalities, public safety, and community advocacy—issues that have always been close to my heart. Whether through working in public policy, running for office, or leading grassroots movements, I want to honor the legacy of service I was raised with by making an impact on a larger scale. This scholarship would give me the opportunity to continue my education and further develop the skills I need to be an effective leader and advocate. I carry with me the lessons of my father and my community—that change doesn’t just happen; it is created by those bold enough to fight for it. And I am ready to be that person.

At fifteen years old, I suffered a traumatic injury that changed the course of my life. As a result of domestic and sexual violence, I broke three bones in my ankle, an injury that required three surgeries and left me with permanent mobility difficulties, chronic pain, and arthritis. This experience, though devastating, did not define me—it fueled me. For two years, I was unable to walk, forced to navigate a world that often overlooks those with physical challenges. I faced the emotional and physical burden of my injuries, but I refused to let them hold me back. With determination, I pushed through physical therapy, enduring the pain with the hope of regaining independence. While others may have seen my injury as a setback, I saw it as the foundation for a future built on resilience. Despite my circumstances, I remained dedicated to my education and my dreams. I refused to let the weight of my past keep me from moving forward. I made the bold decision to leave my hometown, traveling 1,000 miles away to attend the University of North Texas, where I am currently pursuing a degree in political science. The road here was not easy. Beyond the physical pain, I carried the emotional scars of my past. However, I knew that my education was the key to creating change—not just for myself, but for others who have suffered as I have. My experiences have shaped my ambitions. I aspire to enter politics, advocating for policies that protect survivors of violence, improve resources for those with disabilities, and create a safer country for all—especially women. Survivors deserve to be heard, and I want to be that voice in the legislative sphere. My own struggles have given me an intimate understanding of the systemic failures that leave victims vulnerable, and I am determined to fight for meaningful reform. Adversity has been a constant in my life, but it has never defined me. Instead, it has strengthened my resolve, shaping me into the person I am today—one who is committed to justice, resilience, and advocacy. Winning this scholarship would not only help me financially as I continue my education, but it would also serve as a reminder that my struggles have purpose. I am not just surviving; I am paving the way for a future where no one has to endure what I did. My journey has been painful, but it has given me a mission. And I will not stop fighting until that mission is fulfilled.

I was 15 when I was first asked if I wanted to fuse my tibia, fibula, and ankle together after being diagnosed with aggressive arthritis. I sobbed at the idea of having that unreversible procedure so young which would result in a permeant limp. I remember being unable to calm myself as not only was I victim of physical violence, but because of what happened to me, I will be faced with challenges for the rest of my life. Not only was I physically victimized, but I also have a complex physical disability and as much as I wanted to just run away, I couldn't, so instead, I embraced it. I am now a freshman at the university of North Texas where I am a political science major, and the director of sisterhood for my sorority, Zeta Tau Alpha which supports women with breast cancer. With my goal of becoming a politician, I have hopes to make sure that not only will our system be harder on physical abusers, but to have a bigger support system for victims of abuse that now have a lifelong disability due to what they faced. No one should face this fight alone.

Do you know what it's like to be a woman? To be a woman, it is to be afraid every time I walk out the door. I remember the lesson of "stranger danger" but I also remember what my dad told me at the age of 5. He said, "Katie if any man comes up to you and says that he knows mommy or daddy and is going to give you a ride home, scream fire, you will always gain attention from people by yelling fire." At the age of 12, he had another conversation with me nestled between my childhood bedroom, and the moving boxes preparing to go to the home I would spend my teenage years in, like a perfect symbol of growing older. He said "You'll soon go to parties and explore this earth on your own, everything you do is a representation of our family, once you set down a drink, it is no longer yours, and remember, if any man tries to get you... scream fire." In a different season of my life, I learned that abusers were not scared of fire. The five-letter word did not hold the weight my father told me it would. At the hands of my abuser, I was not only sexually abused, but I also broke my leg in three locations, had three surgeries, and experienced the worse pain of my life on both a physical, and emotional level. Something the many conversations my dad and I shared never prepared me for was how victims of sexually violent crimes are treated by law enforcement. When I reported the abuse, I was asked many different times if I understood the meaning of the word rape, and that I could destroy my abuser's future by spreading this information. That detective was so very wrong though, because I did not destroy anything by telling the truth, rather the abuser destroyed his OWN reputation by choosing to do such vile things. I think being a woman is a beautiful, and terrifying thing to endure. I found myself as a child running away from femininity as it is seen as being weak. I would wrestle in the mud with my brother but also play with Barbies and attend ballet. I used to preach my protest against anything that would make me seem feminine, but why should I be ashamed of something that is such a privilege? Who is a man to shame me, to form the narrative that being female was to be boring, to be fragile? I wish I could grab my five-year-old self by the shoulders and tell her that it was okay to be feminine, to paint my nails and play with dolls. Being feminine is not to be confused with being weak. I am 18, I am Cherokee, adopted, a sexual assault survivor, a first-generation student, and extremely passionate about women's rights and safety. I am majoring in Political science, and have every intention of becoming a lawyer, who will not allow men to scare me any longer. I worked in a legal office as an intern and was dominated by men, but never once did I have to hide behind the word "fire" just to be heard. If I won, I would use this money to fund my journey in getting my law degree, I also would use some of the funds to be able to travel to 3rd world countries and volunteer to help and support lower-class, and under represented women.

"Dear eating disorder, I don't like looking in the mirror, but you tell me I have to because maybe the two eggs I just struggled to eat will be the true tipping point for that extra pound I have been doing everything to lose for days. I struggle to remember the taste of a burger, or steak, but my tongue is no stranger to coffee, gum, and lemon water. They often say that you can't measure happiness, but my mood strictly depends on the number of calories I ingest rather than the actual quality of my day. I am so tired. I am tired of running away from red meat because 'it's too fatty' or checking the roll on my right side, because it has always been a little bit bigger than the roll on my left side and what happens if it got any bigger? I am tired of going to bed hungry because you, my eating disorder, tells me that the calories I eat will directly affect my mood in the morning. I am tired of counting food on my phone like it is strictly a number because if I go over the goal of 800 calories, my phone will call me a failure. But go ahead, eat your own words, because I am surely not hungry." Those are the words I was staring down at in the corner of the dimly lit room that my therapist and I met in every other Monday at 8 am. Teardrops smugged the words in a random pattern; I never knew how hard it would be to read my thoughts out on paper. My therapist said that often, I can be my own worst critic but staring down at these words bring to light how harsh I am to myself. That day, be took that letter, and put it in a box decorated with bomb pops, burgers, hot dogs, and watermelon, all foods I struggled to eat then. The minute that box had closed, I began my journey to healthy eating. Healthy food to me does not directly mean that the food is low in calories, but rather the way it makes me feel in the moment. I had to rewire years of beliefs regarding "good" and "bad" foods. After two years of treatment and therapy, I can proudly say that I have been clean from the grasp of toxic diet culture and disordered eating. I find joy in crafting balanced meals and eating burgers on occasion without feeling the need to study the number of calories I am ingesting with each bite. I learned that the number on the scale is not the most important factor in food, but rather balanced eating, and breaking down the labels of "good food" and "bad food." Food is not the enemy, the disorder is, and it took me so many years to realize that food is a vital factor in both a happy, and healthy life.

I was twelve when I first met Brooke. Brooke and I were neighbors, we also went to high school together. We weren't super close as she was heavily involved in clubs and organizations, but she entered my life when I was 15 and a sophomore, and I am so forever grateful she did. When I was 15, I was sexually assaulted and as a result, I broke my leg in 3 places. When Brooke heard about my injury, she reached out to me right away. She reached out to me and while she was making sure that I was okay, she had just gone home after being in the hospital for seven weeks. Brooke had complications after spine surgery, had a collapsed lung, went into heart failure, had spine surgeries to fix the previous complications, and had open heart surgery. After going through all of that, she still wanted me to know that she was always there for me. She will never know how much of an inspiration she was to me. She was the light I needed when there was none. I remember after a hard doctor's appointment one day, I was sitting on my front porch feeling sorry for myself, looking down at my leg which is now so unrecognizable. While I sat, I heard her laugh while she took the first lap around the block in months with her physical therapist, we cheered and laughed, and cried. Eventually, she went to college at the University of Miami, she still kept in touch though, expressing how proud she was when I committed to my college. Brooke passed away 8 weeks ago from covid. It was her spring break, she wasn't feeling well so her dad went to go visit her and make sure she was doing okay due to her history. She went to the doctor, everything seemed okay, and she started feeling better, even texting me a "love you" randomly like she often did. That night, she and her dad had dinner, got a hotel, and went to sleep. When her dad woke up though, she had passed away. When I heard what happened, I struggled to breathe. How did this happen? How is Brooke gone from covid after surviving countless risky operations? why is god doing this? This was the second friend I lost within 2 months, and I struggled to process how an individual of close age to me could be here texting me one day, and the next day... they are gone. After her passing, it was easy for me to shut down, and stop trying on my long road is still on for my leg's recovery, but one day it hit me. She may not be here earth side, but I know Brooke would want me working hard, regardless of any barriers that lay before me. So I live by the phrase she often said to get through any hard trials which was "Just happy to be here." Brooke was a resilient and beautiful young woman, who worked so hard to not only make changes in her friends' lives but in the community. For her birthday, she asked people to appreciate the simple things in life, such as being able to sleep at home rather than in a hospital or being able to walk upstairs without assistance. I live day by day, proud I overcame the last and excited to go through the next because I know deeply that is what Brooke would have wanted.

Anxiety is something I have always been accustomed to, and even some of my earliest memories involve that anxious, nerve-stricken feeling in the pit of my stomach. As a child, I was never considered shy, but at first, I seemed quiet even a young kid, I was so nervous when meeting new kids I would be preserved as weird, so I would sit silently in the corner and watch how the other kids acted so I could mirror it, and fit in. Anxiety and I have grown closer over the years, forming to the different points of my life, and creating unlikely events that caused my stomach to float up into my throat. Starting my freshman year of high school, I would wake up every morning filled with anxiety dreading the day ahead of me, and waiting for it all to be over. I would fixate on the possibility that maybe today was the day a school shooter would enter my school and kill me, and though that never happen, it wouldn't stop me from thinking that possibly it was. As I have grown older though, my anxiety has morphed into a bigger beast. At 15, I was sexually assaulted, and for two years after that, I had to face my assailant every day at school. For those two years of high school, both my sophomore and junior years, I no longer was scared that possibly a school shooter would enter the building, instead, I was scared that at any moment I was going to be harmed by my abuser for telling my truth regarding what he had done to me. Living with anxiety is not an easy feat, and for me, anxiety is not just the nervousness experienced before public speaking, anxiety is panic attacks, shaking hands, puking your guts out and avoiding people so that your heart does not dance tango inside your chest. In my sophomore year, I knew I needed to make a change as I could not think about spending another day holding my breath when he walked passed me in the hallway, or pinched my skin as he laughed with friends while I sat in a geometry lecture. I applied to a dual enrollment, early college two-year program for police science, and criminal justice. Now that I am a senior, my assailant is graduated and I no longer have to face him every day, but I still live with the lasting impact of being assaulted. My reliving the assault often comes in the form of nightmares, where I wake up clammy, sweaty, and panicky. The type of nightmare that makes you spring up out of bed, where your heart rams around the wall of your chest. I decide no individual should live a life of a nightmare without the hope of justice, so not only am I majoring in Political Science at The University of North Texas come fall, but I also volunteer at a law firm to help the underserved, and victims of violent crimes. Anxiety sent me running, but instead of running away, I decided to run into the career of law.

When I was a child, my brother and I were obsessed with the Disney movie Finding Nemo. As a kid, the movie was simply the adventure of an unruly child and a loving father, but as I’ve grown older, the movie has gained layers to its meaning. Within the movie, Nemo was his dad's (Marlin) miracle child after the loss of Marlin's wife, and other unborn children. Nemo also has a disability, his right fin, aka his “Luck fin” was shorter than his left, making it a little harder to swim. As I have grown, I realized how much I and an animated clownfish have in common. Like Nemo, my brother and I were our parents' miracle children. After years of trying to start a family and the loss of two babies, my parents adopted my brother and I. We are two days apart, born in the same year and we were brought home on Christmas Eve. But, my and Nemo's similarities don't end there, like Nemo, I have a lucky fin as well, really a lucky foot. In 2020, I was a victim of a sexually violent crime, and as a result, I broke my ankle at 15 years old in three places needing 3 operations. Now I am 18, and while Nemo had trouble swimming due to his lucky fin, I have trouble walking because of mine. I limp, my leg decorated with metal rods and screws, and scars that shine in the eyes of strangers that stare at me, for what? Being different? Oftentimes, it was my leg that made me feel so unique that I often felt as if I was an exotic animal in a cage. It took me a year, but when I was 16 and a Junior in high school, I started to break free of the assumptions often made about me due to my injury and the crime I lived through. I started by making a change to myself and applied to a program where for the past 2 years, I studied Criminal Justice in a dual program and will graduate with 16 college credits. I also fought for justice for victims of sexual violence by organizing a program to raise money and awareness of sexual assault in my high school. It would have been so easy for me to bow down at the feet of my problems, but instead, I chose to fly. I raised my grades up, got into every college I applied to, and committed to The University of North Texas for Political Science. I intern at a legal office to help those who are underserved and plan to go to law school and become a lawyer and represent victims of sexual violence. Like Nemo, I may have a lucky fin, but that does not define what I am capable of, regardless of what I may look like when I walk, I can run through the barriers I faced and I know that I will be able to accomplish my goals of gaining justice for individuals who deserve it.

When I was a kid, I always pushed the rules to their fullest extent. Now, I don't mean in a way that would get me into trouble, but I mean the rules we have within our society, embedded at the core that I find unfair. I was always very loud when it came to fighting for myself and other people, often telling other kids on the playground when they left another kid out, I always found it very unfair. As I've grown older, and become well-versed in today's government and society, my outspoken attitude has only continued to grow. Our congress continues to fail us every day, gun violence is at an all-time high, and we are in a world where I as a woman, have fewer rights than a man over my own body in certain states. Yes, of course, I can take that same picture and post it to Instagram explaining the number of school shootings we have had in the U.S. in 2023 this far, but what does that truly do? In 2020, I was assaulted, and that was the moment when I knew that our government and justice system did not care for me or about me, so I am going to fight for myself. In my junior year, I applied to a dual enrollment course at the college level for police science and criminal ustic. I fell head over heels in love with the justice system and not because I like the way things are done, but because I like that I, a native American woman, can one day make serious change within our society. As you can probably tell, my newfound love of the legal system had gotten me very eager, so I decided to start small and make a change and an impact within my school. I started by getting involved, I joined a holocaust remembrance club, a sexual assault awareness club, and a mock trial club... I also am an intern at my local city hall, where I work directly with the Corporation Council. I also recently committed to the University of North Texas where I am majoring in Political Science. My goal after I complete my undergrad is to graduate with honors, and then go on to complete law school. I have a lot of things I would like to see change within our society, but what I believe I am capable of helping to change eventually is the legal system concerning rape victims, as well as the laws regarding guns, and the safety of every student who goes to school in America. I can choose to live in fear, but I don't... instead, I choose to live loud.

Sticks and stones won't break my bones, but your words will ruin every ounce of confidence I possess "words won't make you bleed." yes, but they will uproar the seas of the constant question of "am I enough?" I started being bullied on the way home from school on the bus, in my school, in my home, and then my own mirror "children will be children," they say yes, this is true But the words will permanently be engraved on my feet chaining me to the walls of my mind for every time I eat pizza I will think about when he called me fat and when I wear those heels, I will take them off because I'm too tall But maybe your confidence is too short. for you can't bear the fact that both my height, and confidence tower over you indefinitely and beautifully Like a beautiful old building towering over Manhattan I've seen some things, but I still will stand ever so tall and ever so proud and those words will create withering to me ....character. proof of the earth I walked on and the life I lived so sticks and stones won't break my bones but those words will temporarily hurt me

Losing a loved one is like having the world crumble beneath your feet. One day, you are making plans to go to lunch or something so utterly simple that it is boring, but when unable to have that person to do those activities with, your world is destroyed. The funny thing about this though, is you don't ever think about this until your faced it, and that happened to me after my grandfather passed in 2017. My world has never been the same, the world is forever crumbled within my feet, pieces of a puzzle with pieces that just make no sense, and those answers we crave as we grieve our losses, we never truly get and just learn to live in this new reality. My grandfather died in his 70s, after a short battle with lung disease. With his death, I had to grow up so fast, I had a fast pass to adulthood. My mother was destroyed, so I took the role of mother, cook, and the family's therapist... I was only 13. That death set up my foundation, my motivation, but very very recently... I experienced a loss that shook my small town and shook me to the core as well. I live in a semi-small town on Long Island, New York. On Friday, January 13th, a classmate, teammate, hockey captain, senior in high school, son, brother, friend, etc, Gerrin Hagen passed away after being hit by a car the day prior, he was 18. I have known Gerrin since elementary school, we were dance partners in our kindergarten play, and he was at my brother and I's birthday parties, I saw him every day in high school. On that Friday he passed, I was at my secondary high school, a two-year program where I study criminal justice at dual enrollment. I knew that what occurred was serious, but this was the last thing I was expecting. It was 2 pm when my best friend told me the news and without taking time to process it, she and I grabbed our things and ran to tell my brother on the other side of the building. My brother, Matthew, is in a 2-year carpentry program, the program he took with Gerrin for the past two years. I ran to his class, holding back tears, I franticly asked his teacher where my brother is and he told me that my brother was in the animal class with a few classmates playing with the therapy dogs. I run over there and hesitantly coax him into the hall and told him the news. I will never get that image out of my head, my brother and three guys sprinting down the hall with tears in their eyes and with them being unable to form the words, I also had to break the news to Gerrin's whole class. A room of 20+ men who are in one of the most accident-prone classes all started howling and crying, even the teacher was on his hands and knees. In a way, this was the worst experience I have ever had with death. Gerrin was not only a terrific guy, but I held him very close to my heart. He was constantly striking up a conversation, cracking jokes, and even joining my club, being the first male to join my Sexual Assault Awareness club. I dreaded going to school, his absence was loud and the whole community would agree with that statement. Hundreds of people waited on a cold January night to pay respects at his wake. Ever since his prayer card is on my vanity mirror, I look at it every day as a reminder that life can change in a split second, so I must act within the presence. Since then, I committed to the University of North Texas for political science. Death can cause reactions, you either succumb to the feeling of isolation and sadness with the horrible loss of a person you love and care for, or you get up and fight..... I fought. I fought the demons of the depression that can often come with the death of someone. The importance of my life is now focused on living my life to the absolute fullest. If I want to change the course of my career, I will. This experience makes me fight for my education, so I will fight to become a lawyer and help victims of domestic, and sexual violence. Life can change in a split second, so it's so very important to do what you are passionate about.

There I was, staring at the gold '17' candles that were sat right Infront of me. The flames danced around my breath as I was just struggling to stand long enough on my ankle for the duration of a very mediocre rendition of "Happy Birthday." That was my reality, unable to stand for 30 seconds without extreme pain and it all started a year prior, in October of 2020. As a result of being assaulted, I broke my leg in three locations. At 15, I had 2 surgeries and around 6 months of physical therapy and after all of that, doctors were stumped at the fact that my ankle was not progressing at all. Between March of 2021, 6 months after my last surgery, and the day I had my diagnosis in January of 2022, I was given 4 shots of cortisone, prescribed oxycodone at only 16 on at least 4 occasions, and countless other medications just to be able to walk even with the use of crutches. After a change of doctors for a second opinion, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis of my left ankle. I struggled with my diagnosis, because out of 50,000 children who suffer from RA here in the states, why am I one of them? With my diagnosis though, me and my team of doctors are now able to accurately navigate the issues that come along with RA. I later found out after the third operation I had in Augst of 2022, that RA runs in my biological family, but my first injury has only made my pain worse. Being adopted comes with a lot of issues, but the most troubling for me is not knowing the diseases that run in my family. This past January, I talked to my birth parents for the first time and not only does RA run in my family, but so does type one diabetes, and Graves' disease. For me, the most horrible thing out of all of this is how the idea of these potential diseases that run in my family paralyzed me. The unknown sets so much panic into me as I feel as if I'm walking on egg shells, like at any minute god or some higher power will strike a new disease upon me. Through this experience, I learned that though it is easy for me to let my anxiety convince myself that I am doomed, I am not. Life is so much more than dreading the what ifs. I am proud to say that because of the first injury that stemmed from being assaulted, I now have every intention in becoming a lawyer and will major in political science for my undergrad. I still suffer from my arthritis and though it has not gotten much easier physically, I am able to mentally regulate my emotions.

I sat on the counter in my grandpa's kitchen like I did every Sunday morning. I was around seven, swinging my legs on the counter to the songs of Andrea Bocelli and Frank Sinatra as the words of the great hits swelled in the small kitchen dancing around the aroma of the fresh tomato sauce. My grandpa was a first-generation Italian American, whose parents and older brother came over from Sicily in hopes of a better life. From a young age, my grandpa learned the art of hard work, starting the art of carpentry with his father in a small apartment in the Bronx. My grandfather never had the opportunity for furthering his education pass the high school level, but that didn't stop him, as he became a building super, owned his own home repair company, and did carpentry on the side. Though in his later life, he spent lots of time working on his carpentry business, Sundays within my family were always our time, I spent hours in his kitchen cooking meatballs and tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, pizza, etc. About 6 years later, at 13 I was sat in my kitchen alone making what ended up being my grandfather's last Sunday dinner. Andrea Bocelli was playing like it always did, but this time with a heaviness to it, rather than swirling around the walls around my house, the sound was heavy within the bottom of my being. Over our final Sunday dinner in my grandfather's hospital room, he told me at the fresh age of 13 that I need to go to college. He said while glancing down at a sketchpad we shared in the final weeks of his life "Katie, no matter what you come to be passionate about in the next five years, you are talented and you will find the purpose for living, for working, for loving, and for breathing. You will sit in a kitchen making Sunday dinner with your grandkids and won't have to work in your 70s as I did, you will be remarkable and you will find your calling." My grandpa passed in June of 2017, and for a long time, I had no idea what I wanted to do. Often, I had hobbies, but just could not imagine doing that career for the rest of my life, until a horrible experience that would change me forever. In my sophomore year, I was assaulted and as a result, I broke my leg and needed a few surgeries and even 2 years later, I am still unable to walk without a limp or the use of crutches. I struggled deeply after my assault and ended up barely passing sophomore year until I found my calling. My guidance counselor told me about a program called Boces, a dual enrollment 2-year college course and I applied. Out of 25 students all over my county who got accepted, I was one of them and began the two-year criminal justice course in my junior year. I have loved every moment of this program and have begun the mock trial this year where I was assigned lead prosecutor. My grandpa was right, it wasn't easy, but I found my calling. I have already been accepted to schools such as Penn State, and Baylor for political science and have every intention to go to law school. Nothing about choosing your future is easy, but I'm so very grateful that I had my grandpa's words help guide me to success.

My personal experience was when the police took my birth dad to jail. But my story fails to fit what you may think of. There was not a dramatic search for him, I did not see him get taken away, I was not affected while it was actively occurring, but am affected so many years later. My whole experience began fresh after my 18th birthday. I am adopted and have been since I was only 3 days old and fresh after I turned 18, I talked to my birth mother for the first time, and she gave me the name of my birth father. With a quick google search of his name, I saw that he was arrested at least 8 times since the 90's, the most recent time being 2013. Finding this out, my stomach plummeted to the floor of my being, like a 10-thousand-pound weight swirling down to the core of the earth. For me, I was walking into something with the lights off, and my eyes closed, because prior to our first phone call, I was blissfully unaware of what he had done. Upon me asking him about his arrest history, he told me the last time he was in jail was in the 90's, that was not true. After a conversation with my birth mother, half-sisters, as well as the adoption lawyers who aided with my adoption... my birthfather was on the run from the police when they found out they were pregnant with me. With this news, I stared into the mirror weighing the question of the meaning of nature vs. nurture, and I could not help but laugh at the irony of the situation. I was raised around the police and have committed to a college for political science and have intentions of going to law school, and there I was opening pandoras box filled of secrets, secrets my birth family is not very forth coming into giving me. The truth is that my birth father struggles deeply from addictions, as a veteran, Hes one of many who suffer from the mental illnesses associated with being a veteran. Prior to being exposed to my family's history, I wanted to be a lawyer for a few distinct reasons. As an adopted, Cherokee Indian female, I have aspired to go into family court. Every child deserves a loving and safe family to grow up with, just like I was able to do. Though I know this career will not be easy, I am willing to fight for children, as they cannot fight for themselves. Finding this out strengthens my craving for my future career in law as even my birth mother has a record of abusing my half-sisters that were in her custody up until my half-sisters were pre-teens. I got the chance to live in a home with loving parents, but my half-sisters did not. It is hard sometimes as I almost feel a survivor's guilt. Why was I the one who had this wonderful life with my parents, but my half-sisters were stuck with our birthmother, being regularly abused. My goal is to help children who are in similar situations as my birth sisters were, as no none deserves that. I took what occurred to them, and to me as an opportunity to better myself, and to motivate my career.

My personal experience was when the police took my birth dad to jail. But my story fails to fit what you may think of. There was not a dramatic search for him, I did not see him get taken away, I was not affected while it was actively occurring, but am affected so many years later. My whole experience began fresh after my 18th birthday. I am adopted and have been since I was only 3 days old. Fresh after I turned 18, I talked to my birth mother for the first time, and she gave me the name of my birth father. With a quick google search of his name, I saw that he was arrested at least 8 times since the 90s, the most recent time being in 2013. Finding this out, my stomach plummeted to the floor of my being, like a 10-thousand-pound weight swirling down to the core of the earth. For me, I was walking into something with the lights off, and my eyes closed because, before our first phone call, I was blissfully unaware of what he had done. Upon my asking him about his arrest history, he told me the last time he was in jail was in the 90s, but that was not true. After a conversation with my birth mother, half-sisters, as well as the adoption lawyers who aided with my adoption... my birthfather was on the run from the police when they found out they were pregnant with me. With this news, I stared into the mirror weighing the question of the meaning of nature vs. nurture, and I could not help but laugh at the irony of the situation. I was raised around the police and have committed to a college for political science and have intentions of going to law school, and there I was opening pandora's box filled with secrets, secrets my birth family is not very forthcoming into giving me. The truth is that my birth father struggles deeply with addictions, as a veteran, he's one of many who suffer from the mental illnesses associated with being a veteran. Before being exposed to my family's history, I wanted to be a lawyer for a few distinct reasons. As an adopted, Cherokee Indian female, I have aspired to go into family court. Every child deserves a loving and safe family to grow up with, just like I was able to do. Though I know this career will not be easy, I am willing to fight for children, as they cannot fight for themselves.

Whenever my family would go to events where there would be alcohol served, my dad was always seen with a coke, or a water. As a child, I never thought anything of it, I thought he just didn't like the taste of it, but as I grew older, I learned that my dad loved the taste of alcohol, so much that he gave it up. Before my brother and I were adopted, my father began his journey to sobriety. He did everything, and I am immensely proud when I say that through thick and thin, I have never seen my father take a sip of alcohol. As a child though, often we would go to a beach club in the summer. We would always be the first family to leave, always leaving well before 6pm and my brother and I never understood why. Well, the families we were friends with, all the parents had severe drinking issues and as I have grown older, I have seen 2 members out of those 4 families suffer legal percussions in direct response to their drinking issues. A memory engraved deep within my mind that made me realize how grateful I am for my father's sobriety is when I stayed the night at one of those family friends' houses. That night, my friend's father got so drunk that he was cursing at his autistic son, calling me and my friend horrid names, and then went ahead and drove away, while heavily intoxicated. That was the last time I saw that man, and the last time I stepped foot into their home... and I have never regretted that decision. Because of my experiences, I strive to have a clean history and do not partake in parties at all. Though I understand that drinking is okay in moderation, I do not want to risk putting myself, or any member of my family in danger. What people do not realize, is that man I spoke about above, had a family. After he let his addictions take precedence over his family, his family suffered the consequences of his actions, and his actions alone. His son, my dear friend who is autistic, suffered after his father verbally berated him. As a result, my dear friend had a regression in his progression, progressions he and his mother worked at for years. After the stress of his father's addictions, Tommy went completely nonverbal, and stayed that way for many years. At 20 years old, he was finally able to see me, and say my name... this was the first time he was able to do this since he was 15. With this family, I learned how not only do your addictions affect you, but they greatly affect everyone around you, including those you love whether you mean it too, or not. Now that I am a senior, I have every intention to progress my education in college in the path of law. I intend to do this by majoring in political science. My goal is to become a lawyer, and to help individuals who deserve the legal aid they don't necessarily have the means to get. I believe everyone deserves a chance for proper legal aid, so they have the chance to redeem themselves in the eye of the law, and it's because of the people in my life that I know that this is a career I want to be a part of.

“You can’t delete racism. It’s like a cigarette. You can’t stop smoking if you don’t want to, and you can’t stop racism if people don’t want to. But I’ll do everything I can to help” (Mario Balotelli) Racial justice is a topic within this country that grips at the hands of the people. Many people simply walk through life with their eyes closed, and covering their ears, while others walk through the war every day while trying to convince people that you are just as capable as anyone else of doing anything even though you may not be white. What I need, though, is in this country we must open our eyes, uncover our ears, and try to embrace an overdue change. I fight every day for the racial justice both me and my brother deserve as both freedom and justice are instilled within our government, and the education of political science. I was adopted by my parents at a few days old. I also have an adopted brother and though we are not blood, we have been with one another since I was 5 days old, and we are the same age, born 2 days apart in the same year. But something I have had to deal with since I was a child, is the constant questions my family receives, usually targeted at my brother. My parents are both white, I am white and Cherokee, and my brother is Colombian. Because of this, since I was a child, teachers would often call home and make sure I was not lying when I said Matthew was my brother. Why did teachers do this? Well, it was racially motivated and even recently, a sub in my senior political science class was puzzled after I told her the Hispanic boy she just met, was indeed my brother. I will never forget the way her eyes pierced me while she glanced above her newspaper. Her smirk swirled as she tried to swallow the fact that both me, a fair-skinned Cherokee Indian, and my brother, and dark-haired Columbian, are both adopted. While she believed that my brother was adopted, she did not believe that I was and asked me if, I was sure. So, I calmly explained to her that adoption is for anyone who feels they are not fit to take care of a baby, and that circumstance also includes white individuals, or people of any race or economic class. To me, this conversation was comical and ironic as it was in my criminal justice and political science course and though she was just a substitute, the irony blared me in the face as she questioned my credibility due to race and did so in a room filled with pictures of MLK, Lawyers, and judges, who all fought for the end of racism. With the study of political science, we go to the cove values instilled into our government. Some of those values are still dated, and just like humans, our laws need to evolve as well. This experience, and many others like it, is the reason I am going to college and majoring in political science. Everyone deserves justice and freedom, and that is a battle I am willing to fight.

I am a part of the 34%. 34%, a number blinking in red lights above my head like a discount tag on a piece of furniture. A label, a stigma attached at the hip of my identity. Within their lifetime, 34% of American Indian, and Alaskan Native women will be raped. You may be wondering, why? Is this a coincidence? Well, no. Racism and rape are intertwined deep within the root of this nation's history. Within the history of slavery, men of all different races were raping women with impunity, and many can argue that this still occurs today. Within the media, often people feed into the stereotypes of women, specifically women of color. Black and Hispanic women are seen as “easy” or “promiscuous.” But as for me, within the media, indigenous women are seen as submissive, which is so far from the truth and so incredibly harmful for a type of stigma to be so widespread. After my assault, I found myself wanting to expose my abuser and the harmful stigmas, so in my sophomore year, I made change, and that change would soon influence the career I now crave. I started by publicly coming out with my story and reporting my abuse to the police. Then, in December 2021, I proposed a new organization to the dean of my school, and it got approved. I am now the proud founder of the Sexual Assault Awareness organization in my high school, and last year I organized the efforts of fundraising, informational posters, and a speaker set to come to my school in April of this year to talk about consent, and sexual assault. Though I am beyond proud of what I was able to achieve, it was not easy, but my experiences have made me into who I am today. Because of my struggle mentally and physically in my sophomore year due to the assault, I applied to the two-year police science, criminal justice program at Boces, a secondary high school that offers college dual enrollment courses with Farmingdale State College. I was accepted and have completed my junior year and am finishing my final year of the course. Within the program, I have been privileged to further my education with a focus specific to my interests as well as being able to graduate in June with 12 college credits from this course alone. My goal is to further give back to my community by becoming a lawyer and serving minorities within my community by helping them receive the legal aid they deserve. I now know just from the change I was able to make in my school, that I am capable of further change on a larger scale by changing the legal system especially when it comes to domestic abuse and rape.

Throughout my life, I have seen my family and friends endure their tragedies. While some barely survive the tragedies they lived through, others use it to thrive and induce change. I am a person who uses my experience as grounds for me to thrive, and cause change within my community. At 15, I broke my leg from being assaulted and spent weeks in the hospital. To be honest, that part of my life is remembered in flashes, but something I will never forget was the agony I was in, and still experience to this day. The instant my leg broke, my body worked twice as hard to tend to the trauma of my leg, and my mind has been doing the same ever since. What no one told me is that not only would I have to grieve the loss of the full function of my leg, but I would also be dealing with mental agony for the rest of my life. I did not always obtain resilience in this situation though; I was just trying to survive. The hospital was a weight on my chest, a place where I just wanted to get out as soon as possible and return to "normal," at least, whatever my new "normal" was. After I was discharged after my two surgeries, I began physical therapy twice a week since November 2020, and have been doing it still to this day. But the physical aspect of my resilience was not enough for me and since my injury was the result of my being sexually assaulted, I knew that I needed to do more to change more than just my health, but cause change within my school. I started by publicly coming out with my story and reporting my abuse to the police. Then, in December 2021, I proposed a new organization to the dean of my school, and it got approved. I am the founder of the Sexual Assault Awareness program in my high school, and last year I organized the efforts of fundraising, informational posters, and a speaker set to come to my school in April of this year to talk about consent, and sexual assault. Though I am beyond proud of what I was able to achieve, it was not easy, but my experiences have made me into who I am today. Because of my struggle mentally and physically in my sophomore year, I applied to the two-year police science, criminal justice program at Boces, a secondary high school that offers college dual enrollment courses with Farmingdale State College. I was accepted and have completed my junior year and am finishing my final year of the course. Within the program, I have been privileged to further my education with a focus specific to my interests as well as being able to graduate in June with 12 college credits from this course alone. I have been expected to many political science programs at many great schools and have every intention to go to law school and prove that with resilience, you can make the change you could have only dreamed about achieving while going through your struggles.

In 6th grade, I sat at my usual table in the lunch room in my load middle school. The chattering was disturbed by my favorite teacher getting up in front of the room saying that there was a contest and urging anyone with artistic ability to join. Once her speech was over, lunch went on and the room swirled with shatter about the line for frozen yogurt or how many crushes each kid has but me, that speech sparked my interest so I marched up to the room along with all the other upperclassmen to inquire about the competition. There, I was introduced to a program called Art for the Sky, run by the very talented Daniel Dancer. Characterized by Daniel himself, "Art for the sky is a unique, team-building activity for schools and special events that helps dissolve boundaries that often exist in our daily lives. These enchanting creations are an artful blend of science, history, and math: a whole-body way of stimulating our imagination to see the elusive 'big picture' and help us better understand our interconnection with all life." I sat on the line of artistic 8th graders all ready for a competition, I was the only 6th grader cocky enough to apply so there I was handed a paper with an outline of a surfboard and was given the task to draw up a plan. The winner of the competition would have the art created into a giant-sized piece of art that contains recycled items we hand-pick ourselves, as well as every person apart of the school dressing in the colors of your drawing to be human, life-sized drawings. So that day I went home and being from a beach community that is passionate about keeping our community and ocean clean, I knew exactly what I was going to draw. On the surfboard, I drew a yin-yang sign to represent peace along with a wave that was placed around the yin-yang. A few weeks later, my same favorite teacher got up in the same lunch room and interrupted the same silly middle school conversations, but this time, to announce the winner, and that's when she said my name. I was over the moon and within a few weeks, Daniel Dancer traveled to our school and we got started creating Long Beach Middle School "Human Surfboard." As a school, we spend hours on our beaches collecting trash to incorporate into the piece. Over 900 students and faculty members helped us to create this beautiful and creative piece of art that also got hundreds of students to help in cleaning our community in the process. All these years later, I still value what was able to be done in this project, and even as a senior, I value what this accomplished. Through the years I still actively participate in beach cleanups multiple times throughout the year. This experience taught me how much I value group effort in the cleaning of our environment, especially when it comes to our oceans. As a whole country, I think the efforts to keep our oceans and beaches clean should be a more interactive effort so people across the board can help regardless of age. https://www.newsday.com/long-island/nassau/long-beach-students-create-human-surfboard-seen-from-sky-v44509

As a child, I always loved the iconic blue character Stitch, from Lilo and Stitch but not for common reasons. I was adopted and as a kid, I always felt as if I had to choose sides between the attributes I have gained from my parents vs the ones I gained from my biological parents. I always felt for Stitch in the sense that he often had to fight against his biological characteristics to better fit in with his adoptive family. But stitch was often misunderstood, as seen in the movie with his violent outbursts and then his calm, emotional connection to both Lilo, and the storybook "The ugly duckling." Being adopted was often complicated for me emotionally in manners hard to fathom. I was beyond grateful to grow up with my loving mother and father as well as my adopted brother. Our story was unique, My brother Matt and I are only two days apart, born on the 21st and 23rd of 12/04. But our uniqueness of us also brought the complexity of others' understanding of our relationship. I always struggled when friends would puzzle over the idea of us being "twins" as I was always tall, fair, decorated with blonde hair and blue eyes while Matthew was olive in complexion and decorated with dark brown hair. To me, we were normal, just a little different but it was always hard to tackle the judgment of others and the questions my parents would receive often assuming that my brother was just a kid my parents were babysitting. Stitch was always different and though he conformed to the standards of his family, eventually it wouldn't matter as his family was very excepting of him. Family, a common theme throughout the movie, is also a common struggle in my life. So, what's the meaning of family? Well, it means no one gets left behind, or forgotten, and in my house, that comment stands regardless of whom you may be biological, we are all family.

When we ask a child what he or she wants to become when they grow older, often we hear a rock star or a veterinarian similarly when I was young, I aspired to be a singer or an animation artist for Disney. But, for the last four years of my life... I aspired to a future career in law. I have grown a love for the profession because it is all about getting our rights and fighting for the under-served in the hope of a better society. I like to solve other issues and I found this profession perfect for me. My life has been surrounded by public service workers and first responders, and I saw firsthand my dad in his career of being a volunteer firefighter as well as a cop. I always knew I aspired to help those like my father does every day, but It wasn't till my experience with the flaws of this country's legal system that I craved change. In my Sophomore year of high school, I was sexually assaulted and as a result, my leg was broken in three places. I have spent the last 2 years getting 3 surgeries for my leg, working tirelessly in physical therapy, but most importantly... I took back my life. Towards the end of my sophomore year, after the case of my assault was closed due to a lack of evidence, I grew endlessly tired and this was apparent in my report card. I was struggling to pride myself in anything and I knew that I needed to make a change in my life, and I am so very glad a did. In March of 2021, I applied to the criminal justice and police science program, and out of only 40 students around the county who were accepted, I was one. The program takes place every school day for 2.5 hours at Barry Tech High School. I am taught by a lawyer in a college dual enrolment course where I will graduate with 12 college credits and I have not only learned more about myself throughout the study, but I also learned about the parts of the legal system I aspire to better in the future. I am someone who speaks out the truth and who’s passionate about change. With the support of my Barry Tech teacher, I struck change within my high school against all odds and I formed an organization for consent and sexual assault awareness, all while facing my abuser every day. I studied hard and raised my GPA significantly within a year. I hope to become a lawyer, to help the underserved receive the justice I never did. I am proud to have already been accepted to a few universities and am eager to see where my education in political science, and law will take me.

PTSD; My constant battle within myself to "snap out of it" when the "it" is merely engraved within the wiring of my brain. PTSD has been a part of my life for the better part of two years, it's something I know that will always be a part of my life, and like a bomb, I never know when it's going to trigger. I was informally diagnosed last year, at the age of 16., and with the diagnosis, I had to be able to comprehend the daunting knowledge that there is not one aspect of my life that has gone untouched by this mental illness. My illness sprawls within the light of my mind, often tainting activities so simple. My PTSD is stemmed from not only the sexual trauma I faced but also the physical agony I’ve been battling, the diagnosis of my leg, and how one night at the hands of my abuser, my leg will never be the same. It's hard to process, as I once enjoyed running and soccer, but now... my foot is unable to withstand day-to-day activities, even after 3 surgeries. I will never be the same after that attack on both my physical well-being and my mind. PTSD itself was terrifying to navigate, as my story was so different from what I heard from others. Unlike others, it didn't take over my life right away, rather nightmares started months after. Every night, I feared sleep as it was the most terrifying battle I'd had to face. My nightmares would appear in my most vulnerable state, sleep. He was everywhere within my brain though I wasn't seeing him often at that time of my life, it was like my mind wanted to scare me, showing images of him, waking me up, and making me scared of my psyche. I felt in constant battle with myself. I managed to keep it together on the outside, but then I became unable to leave my house again, resorting to online teaching during my sophomore year of high school. All at once, my junior year hit, and all at once, my PTSD landed an elephant-sized weight on my chest as I roamed the hallways of my school. He was there... every day. I saw him every day, it was terrifying. Around September of my junior year, I was formally diagnosed with PTSD. Though I cannot express to you the enormous relief I felt when I discovered my condition was real and validated, I was almost terrified to face my fears head-on in my battle to take back my life. The world is new to me and not limited by the restrictive vision of anxiety; rather, I accept my feeling... I validate them, and I read and follow the cues of my body and follow them accordingly. Rather a year ago when I would push myself to such uncomfortable levels that often resulted in extreme panic attacks, now I communicate and accept if I need to take a break from the thing I am attempting. Mental illness has not always brought me negative aspects of my life, but it has pushed me to better myself. In my Sophomore year, I applied to Boces as a distraction and now as a senior, I will graduate with 12 college credits from Boces alone as well as the intention to go to college for law. Boces has been my saving grace, as in my junior year it got me away from my abuser as for 3 hours I would be in another school learning In a small class about criminal law. I grew close to my teacher, a lawyer and she pushed me to do what I once thought would be impossible. In my junior year, I created a club in my school for victims of sexual assault, advocates, and consent awareness. I am proud to say that I stuck to it, organized a speaker for this year that is mandatory for all seniors, raised money, and put posters all over my building to raise awareness. PTSD has taught me to face myself, and that I am stronger in ways I was often unaware of. It's ok to declare defeat, and it's more than okay to ask for help, that's why I want to become a lawyer. I aspire to be like all of those people who helped me. Mental illness is not the winner, but it is the motivation.

Today, I will not wear my boyfriend's white lacrosse jersey I adore because yesterday I wore his white football jersey. I love how I look in white, it brings out the red of my hair tipped in a reddish, brownish, blondish hue, and it brings out the blue, and green, within my eyes. And most importantly, I am proud to display a loved one's hard work with the name plastered on the back of each shirt. So, you may be asking why I'm not going to wear that shirt. Well, what happens if people think I don't change clothes as I slept in the same shirt I wore yesterday? What if people think that my only personality is my boyfriend as if I'm trying to show off? It took me till my senior year of high school not to care, if I want to wear makeup, wear it. If you want to do your hair a fun way, do it. I learned that there will always be immature people who feast on the vulnerable, but it is our job to rise above, be vulnerable, and love ourselves regardless. Love you for you and face your emotions head-on. @_.katie_bella._

My dream is to help underserved individuals receive the justice I did not. I want to help victims of violent crimes including rape, be able to face their assailants and receive a new start in life. For me, with guidance from trusted adults, after I was violated, I was able to redirect my life and devote it to law and I work hard in my studies to accomplish this goal.

Is anyone truly a stranger to nightmares? The types that cause you to wake up feverish and clammy? The same ones that make your heart feel as if it's pounding out of your chest? Well, my life turned into a living nightmare, the type where I search the world for the phantoms of this dream. What this abundance of questions is trying to tell you is that when I was 15, I was raped. I am currently 17 years old and though I do not know everything, what I do know is this. At 15 years old, I was still unexposed to the jitters of my first kiss. I have grown to lie to everyone I know regarding that fact as I am terrified to admit that my first kiss was one, I had to experience while being choked. At 15, I was still watching Disney shows and sleeping with stuffed animals. But my knowledge gave me no superior godly understanding of crime, but it did give me the scars and rods on my left leg and the limp I walk with due to him causing the breaking of my leg and the 3 surgeries to follow. Though writing is therapeutic to me, this essay you are currently reading will most likely not save anyone from being raped nor will it stop anyone planning to rape, from actually following through. Matter of fact, by the time you finish the piece, three to four women will be assaulted, and one will be raped. Sadly, the words I write on this page will do nothing to stop that. I grew monstrously angry... at who? the world? myself? him? Well, honestly, a little bit of everything but most importantly, the justice system and I was and am angry for past victims and future victims of any crime for potentially not receiving the justice they deserve. I wish I could say I grew the courage of a giant and made the change right there and then... but, I didn't. I grew small as a mouse and shrunk to fit into a society where girls and not heard... but this narrative did not last long. A few months after I grew my wings but very slowly. I was still scared though, being in school with him I knew I needed to find a passion to get myself through my next year with him, so... I applied to boces. Boces is a high school that kids all over my county can apply to. If accepted to a certain program ranging from horse science to mechanics and law, you attend the school for 3 hours of the school day, on top of normal instruction, for your junior and senior year. Thankfully, I was accepted and now have studied pre-law and police science for the past year. I. Love. It. Boces has allowed me to not only open up as a student, but as a person, and in my junior year, I did something that shocked me. With my assailant now being a senior and me seeing him half of my school day every day, I knew I wanted to do something. I organized an organization in my school and set up resources for victims of assault such as counselors, websites, and a speaker who comes in and talks about consent. Though this writing did not save anyone, I hope it made you think. With my experience, I now plan to attend law school and be a lawyer for the underserved, and help people, like that 15-year-old girl I introduced you to earlier, receive justice.

In line for food or ordering at restaurants, people often peer at me with a swirly grin on their faces as they ask, "are you vegan." I always pondered on the question; it is a bizarre question to ask. I don't peer over your plate and ask "why do you eat meat." but I just nod and say yes. This response usually abrupt the tango of "how do you survive without chicken, cheese, etc." All I want to respond with is "that chicken you love to eat, is the body of an animal who wanted to live. And that cheese you love so dearly comes from milk, a drink given to calf to keep them alive." But my discomfort gleams through my awkward nods and lack of response so usually, the conversation ends pretty fast. I grew up eating meat up until I was 12. I cut everything out cold turkey. I think often veganism is judged due to vegans in the media being vile to people who eat meat... I don't see it that way though. I don't think people deserved to be ridiculed due to their choices nor is it my job to guilt them into this lifestyle. What I can do, is gently educate. my choice not to eat animal's challenges people to think about their relationship with animals. People who eat meat often don't question the horrid ways that meat has gotten to their plate but, that all changes when faced with a vegan. Vegans mean it when they say they love all animals. We prove this in our lifestyle. Animals are sentient and plants are not. Sentient beings have minds, just like we humans do. They have nervous systems and feel the pain of being butchered. Unlike animals, plants do not feel pain, nor do they have thoughts, they simply grow. I've been told when people find out I'm vegan, that eating the flesh of an animal is a choice. I like to challenge that question though because if that's how some defend their choices, would it be appropriate for me to beat someone up or vandalize their property and say, "well that's my personal choice." Well, that answer would be no. Being vegan has changed not only what I eat, but how I compare these challenging questions. It also helps me cope with the anger that I experience with the abuse I receive from others due to my life choices. I think it's important to not only respect others but learn from each other.

Throughout my life, I have been surrounded by all sorts of leaders. Having a father who is a New York firefighter, I was exposed to the stories of the heroes my dad lost on September 11th, 2001. I never expected myself to go through any experiences hard enough that would expose me to the chance of being a leader, that was until my sophomore year. I was always under the impression that being a leader required a "story" although not entirely true, here is my story and what I did with my life after. Early in my sophomore year, I was sexually assaulted by a boy I met in my choir class. As a result, I broke my leg in three places and required 2 surgeries. After missing a month of school due to being hospitalized, I was a target when all of a sudden I showed up to school in a wheelchair and a leg newly accessorized in titanium plates, rods, and scares. Rumors spread like wildfire, before my story was even told to me, the truth was being bent into absolutely unrecognizable lies and I felt... stuck. The hardest thing I had to do was tell my story, but I did after months of hiding it. I very publicly told my story after having an outburst in the school's therapist's office, crying the truth out into tissues and speaking to the police as if I don't have police in my family, I was terrified. To my surprise, telling my family and the police wasn't the hardest, it was facing him after the truth finally got around. For two years, I limped past the very boy that ruined my life, but honestly... it was what he did to me that made me change my life around. I stopped feeling bad for myself, I stopped using what happened to me as an excuse and I started to work hard in school. I raised my GPA significantly and I applied to Boces, a secondary high school where I will leave with 12 college credits after two years, I study law and am taught by a lawyer. Mental health is a battle, a battle that feels impossible. I have learned that the impossible though, is just a feeling... a feeling of struggle that is proof you are surviving. Mental health and my battle with it are the reasons why I want to be a lawyer. I aspire to help people the way I wished I was helped.

I could smell the ocean that night, the midnight mist rolled in over the dirt placed on the side of my home. The sky was a murky shade of blackish blue, the type of color you get in a cup of dirty paintbrush water. The last glimpse of the moon faded into the murky sky; I didn't see it again until the sun gleamed through the hospital window. It was October and the pediatric wing of my local hospital chirped with lullabies and the smell of artificial cinnamon and pumpkin. That smell was nauseating but better than the occasional smell of bleach that wafted from the bathroom. Memories flashed during that week in the overly happy pediatric wing of the hospital. My room was like a dark hole of negativity, that swallowed any sort of happiness whole. You may be wondering how I got here. Well, so am I. It was a hot day, 80 degrees, a breeze would occasionally swirl inland (courtesy of the ocean.) It was early September, only a few days away from my sophomore year. The day started overwhelming normal to the point that the normalcy was eerie. But that day, ended with my life forever changed, the beginning of my health journey. That September day, I was sexually assaulted by a boy I met in school. As a result, only a few short weeks later a suffered a fall at the hands of my assailant, that fall would forever change the path of my life. I broke my leg that murky October night in three places. I spent a week in the hospital and required 2 surgeries. For the rest of my Sophomore and Junior year, I was left unable to walk without severe pain, a limp, the inability to run, and unable to remember the last time I did not spend a day without pain. Arthritis then took over my now 17-year-old ankle, I had to stop everything I love including but not limited to soccer, dance, theater, exercise, walking, etc. During my junior year, we changed my orthopedist and I found someone who has dedicated their time to help me greatly. My quality of life is set to change and currently, I am on the path to that change. On the second of August, I received a third surgery on my leg. This surgery is to help with my mobility and pain and so far, though I am unable to put any weight on my leg, this is the least amount of pain I have experienced in the past two years. My journey isn't set to stop there. For the next 4 months, I will be going to physical therapy multiple times a week. I am hopeful for my improvement and plan to change my pessimistic outlook on my healing journey. I am optimistic that I will be back to at least 80% function and am hopeful to beat the pessimistic odds of my recovery.

Across the world, education is not something handed to people, it's fought for and considered a privilege for every child who receives it. So, with this fact in place, it can often be frustrating when very smart, and capable students refuse their chances in higher education. Since I was in middle school, my mom always made it clear to my brother and me that starting now, everything we do paves the way for our future. A lot for a 12-year-old to handle, right? Well for me, I always knew that I wanted to go to college. You may be wondering, what 12-year-old knows they want to go to college and more importantly, why? Well, growing up I watched my two very hard-working parents have to work twice as hard due to their education. My father, a college dropout, showed me that it didn't take college to love your job, as he loved his dearly for 30 years. What he did show me is his career could have possibly been limited due to the lack of a degree. On the other hand, my mother had to work very hard in her position as human resources for a pharmaceutical company. Unlike my dad, my mom graduated college, but she regretted her career choice, and always wondered the question of "what if." So, where does this leave me? Well in my freshman year, I slacked after covid, and after being sexually assaulted and severely breaking my leg, hospital stays, and surgeries now trumped the idea of college. That was until I learned about Boces. Boces is a school I have spent my junior and senior years studying 3 hours during the school day about legal studies. After being accepted, I turned my life around and raised my GPA significantly. Currently, as I am sitting here writing this, I am only weeks away from my senior year and just had a third surgery on my leg. I spend my days researching college, grants for children with parents who have cancer, FAFSA, and other scholarships. So higher education... why is it important to me? Well, higher education, of any type, opens new opportunities. That being said, it is not linear. Higher education can mean an abundance of different things ranging from a trade school to an ivy league school, a doctorate, and a Law degree. It is important to me that everyone can have a choice of what comes next in their life, and that they make that decision of college or any type of further education.

Scholarships are something I struggle with deeply. I believe I have a lot to offer but sharing this in scholarships often falls short. As someone who loves to write, I deeply enjoy writing essays for scholarships in my free time but sometimes I find myself deeply struggling. Often, I find scholarships very difficult for me and I have learned that it is due to the pressure of writing something and having your writing potentially affect the income of the scholarship. Since now being a senior, I discovered how the requirements for some scholarships and government funding for incoming college students, are not linear. Growing up, I was very lucky to be in a place where the money for college was not much of an issue, that was up until this past year. Something FAFSA and some scholarships don't take into account is cancer. After my mom was diagnosed, she had to quit her long-time job so our family income went from two employed parents... to one in just a few months. Often, I am left to panic about college, student loans, and debt, and even sometimes wonder about my decisions in education all together. I searched all over google for scholarships and to my surprise, they were harder to come by than I thought. More often than not, the websites I found were often sketchy, and scholarships with no essay requirements often felt useless to me. I like a challenge and more importantly, I love to write... so, I found bold. Bold has allowed me to sharpen my writing skills and be exposed to so many wonderful scholarship opportunities. Another aspect of Bold I love is being able to read other students' essays. I think it is hard to get caught up in a robotic way of writing, maybe even having your writing fall flat due to the pressure of writing a good and interesting piece. So, I learned what to do to write something important to myself as well as appropriate for a scholarship entry. First, I forget about the potential prize of money altogether, I simply read the prompt and think of something I have experienced. I also have learned to allow myself to let loose because again, I found it hard to not get into a robotic pattern. I have overall learned to show some humility. Its human nature to be funny and vulnerable and I think scholarships should all for this, its an allowance to show who you really are.

I grew up in a small beach town on long island, NY. I frequently go to the beach and ocean and you can see the garbage slowly rise every year. In 6th grade, there was a contest. We were asked to draw a design in the shape of a surfboard that represented recycling. So, I drew up a design and to my surprise, I won. Daniel Dancer, the founder of "Art for the sky" came to my school and organized the event. We went to the beach and collected trash. Later that week, we created the outline of my design on the field using recycled plastic, foam, bottles, denim, and mulch. 900 students gathered and we created this piece of art that represents something so important. Since then, I frequently collect trash on the beach, properly recycle and try my best to walk and ride my bike when possible. This is important to do as our earth is so important. We should all do our part to help protect our planet. https://www.newsday.com/long-island/nassau/long-beach-students-create-human-surfboard-seen-from-sky-v44509

I grew up through early childhood in the middle class. My parents are two very hard-working individuals but unlike my friends at school, my parents didn't flaunt their money. We grew up staying at cheap hotels, cheap flights, and shopping at pay less and Kohl's , but we were happy, and that's all that mattered. I learned why my parents saved so much money, sadly I learned this the hard way. In 2020, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 uterine cancer. As a result, she is unable to work, collecting disability. I learned through her how important it is to save so when I eventually got a job, I save 95% of the money I'm earning. That money is going towards college and flying myself out to tour colleges. I'm learning how stressful money is and how important it is to save. I'm lucky to have a parent to help me with that as well as get me started with good financial tendencies. It's important to spend within your means, budget, and save.

I sat late at night in a hospital bed, nestled between the table in my dining room and the couch in the den. I sat awake listening to the albums of queen, something I did often while I was recovering from my surgeries. I turned on my old keyboard I got 4 years prior, dusty and well-loved, and I began to teach myself "Bohemian Rhapsody" by ear. I always loved to sing, spending many nights singing in my bedroom and performing in musicals, but this was different. Unable to walk, my ear and keyboard were my lifelines, my world. Music was always a part of my life, but I always wanted more out of it so now, I was fixated on my being able to learn songs on the piano just by listening. I would spend hours listening to Ice cube all the way to the Beach Boys and Frankie Valli. So I would practice, practice, practice.. and why do I do this? As someone who suffers from Anxiety and Depression, Music allows me to disconnect from the world and be able to sit and play, which provided me with comfort and joy. Though it is not always easy, it's worth the practice to see yourself grow and succeed.

I sat late at night in a hospital bed, nestled between the table in my dining room and the couch in the den. I sat awake listening to the albums of queen, something I did often while I was recovering from my surgeries. I turned on my old keyboard I got 4 years prior, dusty and well-loved, and I began to teach myself "Bohemian Rhapsody" by ear. I always loved to sing, spending many nights singing in my bedroom and performing in musicals, but this was different. Unable to walk, my ear and keyboard were my lifelines, my world. Music was always a part of my life, but I always wanted more out of it so now, I was fixated on my being able to learn songs on the piano just by listening. I would spend hours listening to Ice cube all the way to the Beach Boys and Frankie Valli. So I would practice, practice, practice.. and why do I do this? As someone who suffers from Anxiety and Depression, Music allows me to disconnect from the world and be able to sit and play, which provided me with comfort and joy. Though it is not always easy, it's worth the practice to see yourself grow and succeed.

Music has been proven to help seniors living with Alziemers. Music is able to bond, conect and relax people and even help jog memories that person have associated with that song. I think in such a world of confusion, greif, pain and heartache, song is such a beautiful way to provide joy and a connection among so many. In my town, every 9/11 we do a memorial open to every one. Many come down, including many seniors, as our town lost many on that day since we are only an hour away. For the past two years, I've sang at this memorial, one year it was amazing grace and the other was the National Anthem. It was a great honor to sing in memory of these heros but, it was also so rewarding to see these seniors enjoying this music as again, it brings us together. When visiting a senior center, I was sat at a piano playing "You are my sunshine" and all these people began to sing even those that we a little quiter then the rest. I think it is important to be helpful, respectful, and kind to elders as one day, you will grow older and you would hope to have people around who are kind to you.

Often things that motivate me to have to do with my family, my dreams, and my future. I want to be able to prove to my future kids that though during high school I faced a sexual assault, surgeries, covid, and a sick parent, it is possible to go to college and become a lawyer. But something else motivates me. So many people have been assaulted and go on to be terrific things. Lady Gaga, for example, inspires me greatly, though she was sexually assaulted, she has gone on to do amazing things within music as well as the mental health community. I have days where all I do is cry but then I get right back up. I've gone on to make a sexual assault awareness club in my school, get a speaker to come to my school to talk about consent as well as be accepted into a highly rigorous law course. In this course, I have spent my junior and will spend my senior year of high school learning about law from a lawyer. I have gone on to maintain a 3.8 GPA and hope to be a lawyer. I want to be the proof of hard work and determination, so I will fight to be that person I wish I had in my life after I was assaulted.

In my sophomore year of high school, I missed about a month of school due to being hospitalized for several surgeries. This was all during Covid and I was doing online instruction. At the end of the year, I had my AP test for my AP world-class. The night before, I become flustered as I was only just given the work I missed months prior so, I stayed up all night studying and had to take the test running on 2 hours of sleep. On that test, I scored a 1 out of 5, terrible. So, upon applying to a second high school where I would spend 2 hr every day being taught law and criminal justice, I knew that I needed to study. I was a student who often would begin to doodle while taking notes, becoming overwhelmed with the information being thrown at me, but now, though I do occasionally have days where I am distracted, I try to stay grounded. I do this by writing my notes neatly and sometimes that means rewriting the chicken scratch I wrote during the lesson down in a clear, easy-to-follow way. Upon studying, I try to stay clear of distractions and often listen to music. I made a playlist of calming songs I enjoy and I sit comfortably and read the notes I took, research, and sometimes rewrite what I need to remember. It's important to be aware that study methods don't work for everyone so what may be good for me, maybe horrible for you so that being said, it is important to try and trial different methods. Find what works for you and stick to it.

Change is a concept often discussed as being a negative, something inevitable and it will constantly affect you throughout your life. Change comes in many forms, some profound and others are rather forgettable but regardless, we still are constantly changing as people. I think my perspective changed greatly after the diagnosis of my mom's cancer, stage 4 uterine. Growing up, my mom worked very hard to provide for our family and this caused her to be gone very often and unable to show up to many school events. After her diagnosis though, she was always around which truly is what I've always wanted, for her to be around. Though I thought this would be a sliver of positivity, it wasn't. Though I love that she is home now, she is always home, sick and tired, unable to do anything and it is so sad. The other day, she and I were on a walk and it hit me, she was so winded just to walk around the block and I realized how evil this illness is. Many people grow up with sick parents and I truly never knew how it deeply can affect you. It opened my eyes to the terrifying reality, it makes me live every day a little better and do be the absolute best version of myself that I possibly can be and just hope that I make her just as happy as she makes me.

Growing up, my biggest inspiration was my grandfather, a first generation Italian american from New York who worked so hard to get everything he ever provided for our family. He was a big part of my life, he exposed me to old family recipes that stemmed from our Italian roots, art, and music. Being adopted, I found it hard to identify with my family because their heritage never felt like mine. Regardless, My grandfather would sit with me and we'd bond over music, and that was our connection, though it was not through blood, it was through music. Often we'd sit on this old green couch in front of this thick old TV, I would go through all the vcrs and dvds in the box and would always choose what had become our favorite movie, The wizard of oz. In that movie, there was a song that stuck with me. "Somewhere over the rainbow" is a song capturing Dorthy's loneliness, wishing, escape, and hope. I identified with this song through childhood because though I had so many people around me who so dearly loved me, I was always, in a way, felt lost. My grandfather was diagnosed with a lung disease in 2017, upon being given the option to be put on a transplant list, he refused, saying that he had lived his life and would hope that those lungs could go to someone younger, I was 13. Honestly, the song was so painful to listen to but after his death, I was assaulted and my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and the song, entered into my life once again. This time, the song meant different, it gave me hope, peace and a reason to fight and that is the reason why this song inspires me.

Selecting a career can be extremely stressful. While in America, healthcare is essential but is that what you want your life to be, Or would you rather spend a life of fame and fortune? Growing up, I saw many different job dynamics just within my family. Being from New York, and my father being a firefighter, I got to meet survivors of 9/11. I saw my uncle's life as a cop and a father, my mom juggling working in the city for a pharmaceutical company and having kids. I knew that I've always wanted to be a mom, but never knew what career I wanted. After being sexually assaulted, I applied for a rigorous course in police science and criminal justice. I got accepted and for my junior and senior years, I go to another high school 2 hrs a day and get taught by a lawyer. I fell in love and I now aspire to be a lawyer. I want to be the person that I wish I had been when talking to the police after my assault. I want to be that person who fights for the justice of the victim and to get justice for them no matter how impossible it seems. I plan to go to law school, become a prosecutor and have a family. It is possible to heal and go on after a tragedy and sometimes, it takes a difficult experience to open your eyes.

Legacy can be described as many different things. Legacy can be what is left of a person, whether it's good or bad. Regardless, it is what you want to leave behind. For some, they want their legacy to be regarding their fame and fortune but for me, I want mine to be about my strength. In my life, I've made mistakes but those mistakes have made me into the strong person that I am now. First, I would like to be remembered for my strength and advocacy. While in high school, I was raped by a fellow student only blocks away from the police department where both my father and uncle work. After the assault, I broke my foot needing two surgeries, and soon after, I told my story to police and school officials. Like many survivors, I did not get justice but, I have gotten something good. Though I face him every day, I decided to make a change for all the other victims of his who face him in my school every day. So, I posted posters everywhere in my school about rape and consent, posted them right next to his locker, will be having a fundraiser for RAINN, and I have organized a speaker to come and speak about consent. The speaker will be mandatory for all seniors in my school. I want to be remembered as someone who has overcome, someone who is strong, and someone who will fight for justice.

Violence is one of, if not the most problematic issue we are facing as a society in this day in age. Every day, it increases, flooding our streets, cities, schools, homes, etc. Violence, in this case, is negativity in the form of physical, verbal, gang, domestic, and sexual violence, being expressed towards another. Violence is a tendency, human nature, but some of the most violent crimes being committed very frequently, go against all human tendencies and they are the tendencies of a deeply disturbed human. Violence has been part of our world since the beginning of time so, if it's been here so long, why is it such a problem? Well, we are no longer cavemen and women fighting for food, we are men and women who are well aware of consequences and other ways to go about things. Maybe we are aggressive out of instinct, or need to be a protector, but how can domestic, gang, and sexual violence be looped under the narrative of protection? Well, it can't. I think it can be seen as easy to show our fists rather than our words. To have a productive conversation with someone, you must be able to welcome the idea of a heated conversation without resulting in violence of any type. Mankind is a creature of a social nature, so in psychology, violent behavior is proved to be inherent but manageable. So where do we draw the line? When a child gets a toy taken away from them, they often result in tears or maybe hitting the person who took the object, but, that child does not have the tools to have a conversation. So if we would all communicate and welcome the idea of tough conversations without the possibility of violence, rates of violence would lower.

Change is something forever wanted. People want to change so what's stopping us? Human beings crave change, we adapt... but, it also can be scary to change something that has become routine. At the age of 15, I was raped by a fellow student. I am now a junior in high school, he is a senior and I see him every day. It's hard and to be honest, it greatly affects me personally and my education. Upon telling the school about my assault, I was met with support. I spoke with police, counselors, deans, etc. But all of that eventually stopped. You see, in my school, some believe that I should have made more progress than I have but in reality, I have done a lot. First off, while dealing with a leg injury due to the assault, surgeries, therapy, etc. I have a 3.8 GPA. I have maintained this grade while having my mom diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, and all while seeing my abuser. But I grew more. At the beginning of my junior year, I craved change, the type of change only I could produce... so that I did. I created an organization in my school about sexual assault awareness, I have put up tons of informational posters, plan to do fundraisers, and will be having a mandatory assembly for all seniors about rape, sexual assault, and consent. I have done all of this while still facing my abuser every day. I've received backlash, threats, etc, but I won't stop. There are at least 3 more girls, that are his victims that have to face him every day just like me. I'm doing this for them, really for any victim. I want the world we live in to be more supportive.

As of 2020, it was reported that 52.9 million adult Americans suffer from some sort of mental illness. In America, most of the time the solutions that are given to us include a not-so-delicate cocktail of medications, leaving you heavily dosed and hopefully numb. But is the perception... true? In 2020, the summer going into my sophomore year, I was left severely injured after being sexually assaulted, needing two surgeries, and having the inability to walk without pain. That was my first experience with the most difficult battle with my mental health. I've been to therapy in the past for both depression and anxiety but this left me so overwhelmed that I felt I was beyond help. I was often in the school's psychologist's office, crying and trying to figure out how to navigate going to school while dealing with the lasting effects of being assaulted, seeing my abuser every day at school, and having to deal with the diagnosis of my mom's cancer, stage 4 uterine. I was seen as remaining stagnant in my process of healing but here is what that psychologist didn't know. She didn't see that I've been able to face him every day unmedicated, without outside therapy, without a stay in a mental hospital. What was healing for me was change. So, I began the efforts of sexual assault awareness within my high school. I've dedicated my junior year to inducing change. My way of healing, may not work for everyone though. The practical solution is not just one solution. The solution is unique to the person, whether it's medication, therapy, or something different... that is practical for them. It is a healing journey, not just a clear-cut path.

Last year, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 uterine cancer. This would be her third fight with cancer, her second fight during my lifetime. I was met with utter fear and anxiety about her health and though the doctors have told us that it is manageable, I have the utter fear that one day, she will die from cancer and be taken away from me earlier than she should. This fear began to eat me away but I learned to not let that define my life and happiness. Yesterday, she and I sat together for the first time in a long time. She had just got back from her CAT scan, the one that will tell us the next step in treatment. We have a cruise planned for April so we sat and talked about our excitement, drama, my boyfriend, all while I played with her hair as I did as a child. We laughed over these hair scarfs she bought and how they look funny on her. I missed that joy and humor. I've learned that we have to laugh through fear and anxiety because if you let that fear eat at you, you won't be able to focus on these small moments. This has all taught me to stop acting so serious. Being so serious allows for a traumatic experience, one you cant experience thoroughly. Be more childlike, laugh about small things, enjoy the very tiny, often forgettable moments.

I have never thought about this question as much as I have over the past few months. Last year, I decided to apply to a secondary high school course where I'd be in a highly rigorous law class. After I found out I made it in, I studied and studied and studied. People often assume that my reason for wanting to be a lawyer is the money, that assumption is very far off. In 2020, I was raped by a fellow student during the summer going into my sophomore year. Currently, I am a junior and that student is a senior. I see him every day, I broke my leg due to him, and he's gone on to rape at least 4 more girls. With social media, all proof is lost. So, I've been called a liar and very degrading terms, and honestly, though it's soul-crushing... it's my reason for my fight. One day on the bus, I thought of a plan. April is sexual assault awareness month so I came up with a plan to have a whole month in my school dedicated to survivors, education, and consent. The kicker? The guy who raped me still goes to my school. To be honest, yesterday I hit rock bottom after one of his friends spoke to me about being interested in being a part of this and then proceeded to ask me questions about my rape and my injury. I sat in the office and bawled my eyes out because something I have put my soul into, is yet again making me a victim. Yesterday I debated continuing this. though I don't know if I'm ready for the backlash, I am ready for the change in sexual assault awareness, something that needs to be brought up.

The few years I've been on this earth have been filled with more difficult experiences than most experience in such a short amount of time. I've learned that life is a toxic cocktail of suffering, laughter, and confusion. The meaning of life changes for each person you ask as certain experiences affect people differently. So to write exactly what the meaning of life is naive and absurd. What I can write tho, is what life is to me and how I perceive it. I think that in different stages of my life, different experiences and struggles, the "purpose" of life had meant something different. Why am I here? Why is this happening? What did I ever do? All of those questions are ones that fluttered through my life at various times. These questions welcomed themselves at a rather tender age, 12. At 12 you are between a childlike adult where you want to mature but yet are still a child and at that age, my Grandfather died of lung disease. Due to his death, I had to step up, cook dinner, clean, have a shoulder for every member of my family but when I needed a shoulder to lean on... there was no one there for me. So I grew angry and with every angering experience, I swallowed the feeling till it grew impossible. Covid, my mom's diagnosis with her stage 4 cancer, me being raped and breaking my leg (needing two surgeries), the anger needed a place to go. Ambition. So that became my reason for living. After figuring out that no one cares about you, I learned to care for myself. So, I fought. I go to a law course that's highly rigorous where I hope to go on to be a lawyer. And now, life has meaning.

“The perfect victim is a white male professional, 40 years old, at the height of his earning power, struck down in his prime. And the most imperfect? Well, in the calculus of personal injury law, a dead child is worth the least of all.” Though this powerful line was said in the movie "Civil Action" it can be argued as true in our world of law. In 2020, I was raped by a fellow student of my high school and as a result, I suffered three broken bones, two surgeries, and arthritis. I've stabbed myself with needles to combat the pain, take all different types of medications, but still, my story is not "worthy enough for justice." I see him every day at school and often fear for my safety. When me and 3 other girls told the police about this boy, we were told that even if this made its way to the court, no one would ever believe us and we would never win. So, that's when my life changed. I've never been one to be unable to handle the word no but this time, I just couldn't see that it was just as simple as saying no. So, I began to study all about criminal law, made it into a highly rigorous law program that I take every day for 2.5 hrs before my normal school. I did all of this while dealing with an injury, PTSD, depression, anxiety, and the diagnosis of my mom's stage 4 cancer. I face my rapist every day and have gone to advocate in my school despite the odds. So where do I go now, I plan to fight, raise awareness, go to law school, and became the lawyer I wish I had because ambition is the strongest force.

My nightmare began in 2020. My simplistic life became flooded. First with covid, then the diagnosis of my mother's cancer, then I was raped and broke my foot due to it. Then, my mother's remission and then the new diagnosis of her stage 4 uterine cancer. I felt as if I was dancing on the edge of a cliff and with each trying experience, I got closer to death but... then I met you. I met you while my walls were completely up and I had no intention to open up to you. But you were persistent. So there we were and he and I's relationship, well it was difficult and while I was in the hospital with my injury, he had left me. But, We began talking once again. So the catch? We are completely long distance, over 1000 miles away. You stayed with me through the depression and the anxiety and you stayed up late on facetime while I slept after being diagnosed with PTSD and woke up daily from night terrors. You wanted me to feel safe as I slept, protected and you woke me as I relieved the assault in the form of nightmares. You still do this to this day. And finally, I met you. As we walked around the city, you made it known that I was safe, checked on my pain level due to my injury, reassured me when I became uncomfortable. This is the type of person I aspire to be. Vulnerability is an emotion of great importance that is often judged and tormented. So I advocate for victims of assault, I put my story out there because the more I talk, the more they listen.

As a kid, my mom was open in telling my brother and me her battle with cancer early in her marriage to my dad. She was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma about 10 years before adopting my brother and me. We always understood the possibility of it coming back but we never thought it would happen. In 2020, my mom was going through menopause, and that's how she knew something was abnormal. She went to the doctors where she found out that she had stage 2 uterine cancer. Honestly, I don't remember much for that time as I was sexually assaulted and I hold lots of guilt for not being able to support her during that time. She had a hysterectomy and radiation and then, remission. In 2021, she went back for a routine scan and we got saddening news. There were small Mets in her chest of cancerous cells that spread as they were not all gone after remission. She got diagnosed with uterine cancer yet again only this time, it was stage 4. She is still battling it and it affects me so deeply that I feel almost selfish. Due to her health, I haven't been able to look at any colleges this year or go see my great-grandparents who are currently 97 and ill. But there is some good, we all learned patience while we have been going through chemo 6 months longer than planned, I've spent lots of time with her due to her not working. I've learned about cancer, chemo, medications, and diets but I learned that one day, it will be better but for now, I have to patiently wait.

Very often, I was told that self-love was something found in high school cause that's the era of finding yourself. For me, freshman and sophomore year is when I lost myself. Anything I ever loved became things I pretended to hate as it was popular and made me fit in. I craved to wipe the slate clean and not be the “other” Corbett as this was who I was known as freshman year. Through my journey to self-discovery, I learned that self-hatred was nearly an impulse. My label from 9th grade became something I missed because, in sophomore year, that label changed to “the girl who was raped.” My anxiety was gleaming, I fiddle with my jeans and shirt cause my belly is poking out as I was now harrased for what I wore and how I was "asking" for it. My depression was overwhelming. I was an eyesore. I would speak as my anxiety shook my voice and my face became as red as an apple. Everyone knew. I was meant to be shamed for publicly loving my body, sharing the story of my assault, for being a strong woman in America but one thing I love about me is my strength and ambition. So I used that, I went on to be in a highly rigorous course of criminal justice and aspire to go on to be a lawyer. I am also holding sexual assault awareness in my high school this April, the same school the guy that assaulted me goes to. Anxiety and depression are only an accessory and doesn't define me. It is not easy and it's okay to have off days but I am now aware of just how very much I am capable of.

In my early childhood, my life was very predictable. My parents both had jobs that occasionally kept them gone for a while. My mom would often be on business trips and my dad was the fire chief for many years so he would be gone many nights of calls. I got used to my grandma raising us and it was fine until I became a teenager. In 2017, my grandfather was diagnosed with a lung disease that he later died of. For the months he was in the hospital, my parents were gone most days so I was left to grow up very quickly and almost be like a parental figure for my mother. A year later, my aunt was diagnosed with the same disease and was in a hospital on a transplant list for many months. So with my mom gone, I got used to keeping the house organized, supporting my family, and cooking dinner, things a 12-year-old shouldn't necessarily worry about. But I powered through and at the height of covid I was sexually assaulted and my mom was diagnosed with uterine cancer, stage four. So I began to think, how do I want to live my life? I applied to a law class in a specialty school where I made it in and will be taking courses 2.5 hours before school every week and will leave with 12 college credits but most importantly, I found my passion. I plan on attending Texas A&M and then their law school where I would like to go on to be a criminal prosecutor. More importantly, I hope to have 4 kids, teach them good morals, strong ambition, and vulnerability. I hope to support my mom through her battle and use her strength to be just as good of a mom.

Very often a “hobby” is not only something you like, but it's also something you are good at. If I was asked this question three years ago, I would tell you that my passion was art. I spent countless hours on my bedroom floor drawing cartoons and Disney characters for friends. All I wanted to be was an animator. So, one day I was sat across Disney animator Dave Kohut in a local restaurant. I sat there at 11 years old like it was a job interview, showing him my art but was met with disappointment when I realized that he spent years working on the movie “Moana” where he was solely in charge of the ocean. Though it was amazing, it wasn't for me. So drawing was now what I do on a rainy day and I shifted my focus to theater, specifically singing. I did many shows where I was ensamble and the leads and I loved it. That now was what I wanted to do but I broke my ankle after a fall down the stairs and then was left with not a single hobby that I was good at. When I was asked what I wanted to do in college, I stared blankly and hoped for the question to go away because I didn't have a clue. I've heard many stories of people going through difficult things and going on to a hobby/career because of that such as Elizabeth Smart, who was kidnapped and sexually assaulted for many months. Smart went on to be an activist, producer, and work on shows covering the stories of others. I never knew how impactful an experience could be to a hobbyy or career till it happened to me. In the height of covid, my world came to a screeching halt when my mom got diagnosed with uterine cancer. Right after she became better as she was now cancer-free due to her hysterectomy, I was sexually assaulted. As a result of my assault, I broke my leg in three places spending many days in the hospital needing two surgeries and then my moms cancer came back, stage four. I was left unable to walk for many months only to sulk in the anger I have for the boy who did this to me and my mom suffering. But instead of ignoring that anger, I used it. Having the inability to move, gives you countless hours to study so I did. I wrote poetry and studied all about law and made it into a highly rigorous course that I take for 2.5 hours every day before school where I learn all about the criminal justice system. So activism, law, and poetry is my hobby. I plan on going to law school and going on to become a criminal prosecutor. So for me, it took a terrible experience, to shape me into who I am and who I hope to become. My passion and my lifeline is what keeps me fighting.

In October of 2020, I broke my leg in three places. This injury required two surgeries as well as extensive recovery that I never expected. What no one tells you when you break your tibia, fibula, and ankle, you are going back to infancy. I had to sleep in our living room in a hospital bed, couldn't go to the bathroom without someone there and I had to be in a wheelchair. I had the worst pain of life and I thought that would soon be over, I was wrong. Though it's been close to 2 years, I have arthritis and severe pain, I can't walk without a limp, and am unable to even walk up the stair in the “normal” way. So what does all this mean? I had endless time to improve my skills so that's what I did. Spent many nights writing and was expressing all the emotions I ignored for years. I wrote poems about the lung disease that killed my grandfather and the same disease that nearly killed my aunt. I wrote about hearing that my aunt received two new lungs and survived the transplant. I wrote about my pain and being raped, my mom's cancer than her remission, and then her cancer coming back. Most importantly, I learned patience. I sat on a surfboard for the first time only a few months shy of the one year of my injury and it no longer was easy. But, I liked the battle, so I sat in the waves letting my scars free without being ashamed and I surfed. I fell and bruised but got back up. I am studying law to help people in the future get the justice I never got so though I wish I did, all of this taught me many things.

When I turned 16, my dad and I went to the local beach and used the large parking lot to practice driving. My dad is a retired EMT, lifeguard, fire chief and worked alongside our local police department for about 30 years in the traffic division. I’ve heard the stories growing up on crazy fires, drownings, his friends' stories who lost their lives on 9/11, I was used to it. While we drive, he allowed me to exit the lot and drive home, which was only 2 minutes away. I drove out and was on a very busy street where my dad told me a story from 20 years prior. He was working and got a call that there had been a car accident, he rushed to the wedding venue where he saw a limo that had been smashed and completely totaled. I cringed as he continued where he revealed to me upon getting to the scene, he saw the bride in the limo covered in blood and who was dead. My dad all these years later gets very emotional upon talking about what he saw that day. So, why am I writing about this? Well, growing up, all I saw was the dad who had to run out during dinner or in the middle of the night and who was always doing something. But that story, it clicked. He put his life on the line in so many fires to help the littlest of animals to huge families. So I aspire to be like him, I want to be a lawyer and help victims of rape heal and get the justice I never received, and all it took to realize this was one store on a short drive.

In these trying times, many have been tested mentally and emotionally. Humans are creatures of habit, when something trying happens, we fall back into a support system but, when you are only able to communicate via a cell phone, it affects a person greatly. Pre covid, I would describe myself as having a “fixed” mindset, black or white, good or bad, right or wrong… no in between. But in covid, I had to adapt my mindset. As a child, my life was very stable, something I was very used to and when it was disturbed, it provided me with anxiety. My dad was the fire chief of our local fire department so he could be gone many hours of the night and my mother would have lots of business trips. I was used to the spontaneous sleepovers with grandparents, school concerts without a parent in the audience, it was okay cause I grew used to it. One thing I was never prepared for, happened during covid. I suffer from depression and anxiety so when things happen, I can tend to be very depressed and unstable and that is something I had to learn to cope with. Early 2020, my mom was diagnosed with uterine cancer. She had a hysterectomy and the scans told us she was cancer-free. Right as things were back to normal, I was sexually assaulted and broke my leg in three places and I still can’t walk normally and have arthritis. My mom now has stage 4 cancer and goes through chemo. Life is trying but I allow it to be positive, I am in a program to learn to be a lawyer, I am having a sexual assault awareness month in school and I fight for the better and It takes negatives to mentally grow.

As a child, I spent countless hours on my bedroom floor drawing pictures of Disney characters and dresses. I loved art that was bright, creative, and different. Growing up, I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD due to being sexually assaulted. My eye for art went from easy to define to a piece of art that can be taken in very many different ways. Vincent Van Gogh was upon many to be plagued by mental illness and we often hear about him being the crazy manic that chopped off his ear, but what if you were told that there was more to that. During one of the attacks he experienced where he blacked out, he cut off his left ear which people commonly say was to show his love to a girl. So why do I value the art I defined as dark and sad? Van Gogh told us a story within his pieces. “The bedroom” is one of his only paintings that allow the viewer's creative mind to rest rather than trying to understand why or it is he had painted. It is intimate as if he is inviting the viewer into the small and quiet room which is extremely personal. So the importance of this painting to me is how it ties into my battle with mental health. Depression and my bedroom go hand and hand as I spend days with those four walls painting and manic or sleeping and calm. It is a room commonly shunned within the talkies of mental health as some may battle the struggle to keep their space clean because that feels like the only thing in your control. It's more than a bedroom, it's a story.

Growing up my father was the fire chief of our local fire department for many years of my childhood. Our town is about an hour away from where 9/11 occurred thus we grew up hearing many stories of the friends my dad lost that day. My brother and I spent many Sundays at fire drills with the guys where we saw the bravery and strength these heroes withhold. I saw the fun side where you have little kids looking up to you as a heroic figure but you also have to be able to live with the horror. The friends my dad lost that day in 2001 lived within our house as legends from the past, except one… William Quick. Billy Quicks' story was told to us many times and it is one of great importance. On that day of the attacks, he was off of work spending the morning dropping his kids off at school. Upon hearing the attack, he rushed to the city and didn't hesitate to jump into action. He then worked in the rubble from September nearly to December. Like many other survivors, he was diagnosed with a lung disease years later related to the toxic air he had been surrounded by for many months. Regardless of all he was going through, he happily invited my brother and me to come and meet him. While I sat across a man who has every right to gloat and talk about all these great things, he was humble… worried about a bruised knee on me whom he just met rather than himself. This was only a few weeks before his passing.That's who he was and that is the type of mentor I aspire to be, strong, brave and willing like Billy, and many others.

Growing up I lived in a close-knit community about an hour from New York City. My mother worked in Manhatten and my father was the fire chief for many years of my childhood. One day, my dad brought my brother and I to the city where we got to see what remained of ground zero, the imprints of the twin towers that once stood and tragically got attacked on 9-11-2001. At that moment, we were faced with the reality of what occurred. A few years later we found ourselves in the city again and made our way to the same spot we were years prior. The dirt was now two breathtaking and heartbreaking fountains that pooled around the many names engraved. Flowers overtook the grey pools, marking the many heartbreaking tragedies. Every household has some sort of hero, whether real or pretend… but in my house, they are very real. My dad talked often about the two heroes who were his close friends, Kenneth Marino and Michael Keifer, two firefighters that heroically lost their lives in the towers that day. My dad tends to not be very emotional but growing up, those very two names established a connection within me because you can still see the pride on my dad's face when those names get brought up all these years later. Though it's terrifying, these stories and names that have lived within my household have taught me bravery, vulnerability, and heroism but they also taught me the names and the faces of a more personal level in such an important part of history.

As I stood in front of my birthday cake, I was faced with a 17 made of wax and gloppy blue paint. Each ‘happy birthday’ sung to me was like seeing an age dance through my grasp and each prominent memory of that age begins to fade. At the age of 1, there were endless watchings of Sesame Street and the finalization of my adoption, 6 was the age of worms and soccer, absolute simplicity. 12 was the death of my grandfather, 13 was my aunt's double lung transplant, 14 was the diagnosis of my mom's cancer followed by her remission, 15 was my rape, my foot shattered in 3 places, my two surgeries, and then at 16, moms cancer came back. I felt the urge to grab the flame that twirled upon the wick of the ‘17’, to light fire of those past years. When it rains, it pours but if I had decided to give up, I would have missed many things. Over the past year I was able to surf this past summer after being immobile for many months, sing the national anthem at a 9/11 memorial which is something I’d never thought I could do with anxiety, but most importantly, grow as a person. If I had never gone through what occurred, I would not be where I am. Regardless of missing a month of sophomore year and failing, I currently have a GPA of 3.7, I'm in a rigorous class of criminal law where I will leave with 12 credits. Most importantly, I am inducing change within my school, having the conversion about assault and consent, and holding an awareness month in April. Life tests you, and it is okay to fail, but always try again.

The tears rolled down my cheeks softly but in a chilling way. I sat on the cold exam table once again for my monthly appointment, these appointments have been going on for about a year. I look down at my cold foot that has chosen to camouflage into the color purple making my 3, 4-inch scars glisten in the fluorescent doctor's office lights. I was in pain because at the ripe age of 16 I was met with the diagnosis of arthritis that had poisoned my foot after a break that took place in three places a year prior. There was no hope in that room that day. I went home and my research danced from the simplicity of “Cures for arthritis,” “Surgeons for feet and ankles, NYC”, and then to “Rape statistics in America” as well as “Sexual assault awareness month.” I was met with photos of teal ribbons and posters of informational conversations of consent. My eyes welled with tears as the reason for my injury was due to my Rape. I was met with fear and horror for that number was so high but then I was met with utter fight and anger that I needed to induce a change so I did. The next day I went into school and sat down with the Dean and expressed how I believe that our school needs this conversation but I was met with another challenge. My rapist is currently a senior, thus I see him daily which arose the challenge of “how will this conversation of sexual assault be allowed to take place if my name will be attached.” But, I don't have the desire to tell my story within my school more than has already been told as many told my story for me. So I am proud to say that my school is holding fundraising, consent talks, and a survivor who is coming in to speak on assault and consent for April. And though this is a win, the talk alone about my school's month of April being in support of sexual assault awareness month, Many girls have come out to school officials seeking help for their assault. This is all terrifying but something needed in our society. I am willing to fight and due to my experience, I am passionate about the support of victims, as well as passionate about the justice system. So, I now attend a 2.5 hr class before my normal school instruction where I am being taught by a lawyer, to be a lawyer. Because of my experience, I fight harder, learn harder, and will learn to make a change for the better. So that is my hope that someone, somewhere, will help make a change, start the fight because this, is a problem.

There I was using the monkey bars on the playground. I pulled myself up so my chin was on the cold metal and then my hand slipped and I fell cutting my chin wide open. I was scared, I was covered in blood and disappointed in myself. So the next day, I pulled myself up the bars yet again and kept doing so until I succeeded and when I finally was able, I was proud. So, years later when I found myself on the cold ground after falling 15 feet, I thought that this would be a challenge I would never be able to overcome. I broke my foot in three places, my tibia, fibula, and ankle were shattered and required surgeries. But my biggest challenge was to tell my story, so, this is it. I met a boy in my choir class my freshman year, mysterious and cute I would go on and begin to talk to him through Snapchat during the height of covid. To learn about him, I asked him about his favorite color and his response was a question loaded with sexual curiosity. I would later be raped by him and as a result, break my foot but my hardest this to overcome was to tell my story. I finally did and though I only waited about 2 months, there was no evidence therefore, no charges could be made. But I did get justice in a way, I made my life back to where I wanted, I openly talk about my experience, and had the honor to help other victims come forward. My experience gives me the drive to be a lawyer, an A student, and a better friend. I fought, And I won.

I sat at the counter at 10 years old, puzzled about what to eat for breakfast because, at that moment, my largest problem was the lack of milk and my hatred of eggs. The counter was cold and I felt it under the weight of issues. My problems would blossom to what I would wear to a party, who I would go with to the dance, what movie I'm going to see, all of that is nothing. My world erupted a true issue and that had occurred when I was raped. "What were you wearing?.... Are you positive you said no?" I cried as I answered each grueling question until finally, she said "Maybe you confused him, sent him mixed signals? Even if there was evidence here, you would never win" I proceeded to light her business card that night and throw away that 4xl sublime shirt and black jeans I wore that day. The monster that did this to me had down this to at least 3 more girls and yet I still see him every. single. day. When pressing the school with questions about what we can do for my safety, I'm met with nothing because of the lack of evidence. So, I walk that halls, receive stares and messages of curiosity, even rumors started by my abuser, going around saying that my father and I showed up at his family's home and threatened them with a gun. So here is our issue, the lack of support or victims and knowledge in a school setting. I aspire to be a lawyer and am currently working alongside the dean to have the month of April in my school dedicated to the knowledge. This needs to stop and there needs to be an open conversation.

"Go Katie go, come on you go it."..... "I'm open, pass it to me." .... "Goalllll!" The voices begin to fade from the rec soccer field I played soccer on for years. I broke my ankle which was a blessing as I was growing out of this spot so I tried something new. The grass turned into wood and the sun transformed into the spotlights. There I was, dancing and singing on stage in front of 100 people every night for one week a year. That... was my home. You never know how much you truly love something till you lie in a hospital bed in your living room. Surrounded by wheelchairs, walkers, pills, I was trapped. I broke my tibia, fibula, and ankle in three places needing months of therapy as well as two surgeries. There I was, temporarily paralyzed, forced to call my parents to walk to the bathroom. I was told at 15 I have arthritis, the ankle of a 60-year-old. And that's when my world began to slip away. I thought I would never be able to do anything I loved again and that is somewhat true. I can't run or play soccer for that matter but I can do one thing I truly love the surf. I was terrified, me, the ocean, my board, and my thoughts. I was happy and though I was in immense pain that day, I was truly happy. Though I still have scars and pain, I don't give up and I continue to push the boundaries.

As I sit on the cold exam table, the room transforms into something that is so much more meaningful for me. The cold tile my toes brushed upon transformed into the creaky wood floor and the clock above my head transforms to the one that rested among my sleeping head. “Tick, tick, tick, tock” I run into my grandpa's room as the floor creaks under the feet of a 5-year-old “ Paka.” I whisper through the door “ Can you please take down the clock? I can't sleep it's too loud.” So, he would get up every time I was over, unscrew the clock, and put it in the kitchen and he did this until I was 12. At 12, he passed away, and now, the room becomes cold again. The smell of bleach and salt is overwhelming as if you could smell the salt of the tears left behind. I lay crying silently with a clock over my head… but this time the ticks were quiet. My mind was racing screeching and my ears ring around the soaring voices of doctors crowded around to me. “ Your okay Katie, can you hear me?” one nurse says sweetly “ take a look at this, get the lead surgeon” another yells over the loud room of doctors hungry for surgery. “Help me, please.” I weep quietly. There I was in the emergency room with a broken leg, only a few minutes after I fell out of my window, a 15-foot fall. I was 15 at the time of this fall and I fell because the man that raped me threatened to come over and kill my parents if I didn't sneak over. So, I made the choice to attempt to sneak out, and on my 4th attempt, my hand slipped and I landed standing on my left foot. My tibia, fibula, and ankle shattered and that was the worst pain of my life. To my surprise, the pain I would experience for the following months would suppress arthritis, three broken bones, two surgeries, and the rape. I began my Junior year limping into my high school as the girl with the permanent tattoo “the girl that was raped.” And though it hurt, I was. I was the girl that was raped. But, I'm much more than that. I am the girl who is fighting for justice, facing her abuser every day at school, a normal girl who loves to sing and surf, who is adopted, Native American, a creative. I. Am. Human. “Hey, I hear *name* raped you,” one message wrote. “ Hey, is it true…. Were you raped?” Another stranger asks. “Hey, I support you and I’m *names* ex, he did it to me too. Keep fighting, you will be the reason we all get justice” Finally, someone who isn't against me… I could finally breathe but then, it sunk in…. There are more people he did this to. And that was the worst pain, finding out he did this to 3 other women. So here I am, I go to courses every day before school for 2hrs taking law courses. I will fight to be a lawyer and that holds together my sanity, it's the goal that gives me the reason to fight. I will fight for justice and hope every day to make those special people in my life, like my grandpa, be proud of the girl I have become.

I grew up as a normal child, I was tall and grew very fast standing at 5’0 at the age of 8 years old. My food issues began at the tender age of 8 in a dressing room. My mother was sat across from me and as I was standing shirtless beginning to try on address, she pointed out my stretch marks on my belly, behind my knees, and on my arms. She cringes and the words reply even today when I see my stretch marks, “ oh katie, look at your stretch marks.” That was the start of my battle, it began as starving myself. In the morning I would feed my breakfast to my dog, skip lunch, and eat a bowl of frozen mixed vegetables every day for years, and then at night, I would binge on snacks I was not allowed to eat. Then I grew older and my eating disorder became wiser, I would go days without eating a meal only a couple of hundred calories a day and when I did eat, I would force myself to throw up. I was complimented by family and friends after having the flu and throwing up for a week as my dad gloated with glee as I had lost weight stating “ look at the weight katie lost, she looks great!” So in my mind, throwing up = being considered pretty. I became depressed and when I was finally getting better, I would relapse. Words…. After stating to my mom how I aspire to perform after going to see my first concert, she said that I would have to be skinny to ever become famous. After that, I sat and wrote this poem called reflections, I was 13. At 13 years old you, a guy, is worried about playing Xbox with friends While I, a 13-year-old girl, is sitting on my bedroom floor crying I'm crying cause I was so obsessed with having a thigh gap That I spent the last 30 minutes using duck tape to tape down my fat thighs Or also me, a 13-year-old girl, throwing up my second meal of the day Or me, a 13-year-old girl, screaming after looking at my reflection in the mirror I punched the mirror and watched the reflection fall away And I cried and used that very same glass to slit my wrists And I sat there and yelped and wanted to die because I want for once to feel pretty So please, the next time you wanna call the fact of me not believing your comments Ungrateful or rude, shut the hell up and think about the last time you spent 3 hours trying to eat a slice of toast or the last time a grown man came up and harassed you cause your body Or the last time you got yelled at the cause of being insecure I’ll wait. Children, our children need support within a society filled with hostility. There needs to be a change. I try to make a change by being very vocal about my experience and at college, I believe there should be resources and ways to have an outlet to publicly speak of experiences. Vulnerability is something ofter feared but, it is a characteristic that shows immense bravery of a person and, this is why I urge you to share your story and help induce change.

I grew up on long island new york, I was adopted by my two loving parents and have a brother who is also adopted, we are two days apart so we grew up close. Life was overwhelmingly simple growing up, I was a happy child but I started losing grip of my childhood at the age of 9 when I was groped on the playground of my elementary school. At the age of 12, I lost my grandfather to a horrid fight of lung disease and that is when I began to experience the loss of childhood and the introduction to depression. Only a year later, my aunt had a double lung transplant due to the same disease. But then, it all hit close to home when my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and had a full hysterectomy at the start of Covid. After my mom was thought to be cancer-free, I was raped by a kid I go to school with and broke my foot needing two surgeries as a result. And now? Well now, it's been a year and a half since the assault and my injury, and my mom is now battling stage four ovarian cancer. Life has been pained but amidst the pain, I have a flaming ambition. I intend to be a lawyer, a criminal prosecutor so I can give the help to the families that I had only wished I received. I live a life of gratefulness and fullness as I feel the need to do everything I can to aid others. So, I will fight to achieve to be a lawyer and I hope that with your help, you can aid in this very needed change.

The caring of your mental health is often seen as weak within our society and sometimes, it is only valid to be so deeply affected if something cartographic happened but that is not the case. Mental health is not something that is presented in black and white, it has depths, degrees, and provokes responses from a whole world of people that react differently than what you or I may. I started to experience anxiety at the age of 10 after I was groped at school but at the age of 10, well you are often not taken seriously and anxiety is choked up to stage fright. I still can’t walk in crowded areas without feeling the anxiety, the worry, and the bracing myself because I fear someone will inappropriately touch me. Now that I am older, I was expected to “outgrow” my anxiety and depression but instead, the anxiety and depression further grew within me. So, what is there to do? Well, sometimes I push myself causing the absolute mass of panic like trying to confront my abuser, but, there are other ways I have learned to confront my anxiety and depression… you accept it. I stopped trying to chase it off and instead I talk, and sleep, I allow myself to have access to a creative outlet, and sometimes all I need to do is cry. Our society fears vulnerability but it is something that should be seen as a strength rather than a weakness. Being vulnerable allows for confrontation and grief of the mind to begin so you can gain some peace. Don't be fearful to take a day to sit in bathe or shower and cry, or sleep the day away, take care of your mind in the way you see fit.

After being assaulted at the age of 15, I remained silent of my story for I wouldn't dare to even mutter what had happened under my breath for the fear of judgment. I suffered greatly and the silence only aided to support the absolute depression built to breed off loneliness. When finally opening up, I was instantly shut out, called delusional, asked if I was sure it wasn't a hellish nightmare, and though I was positive that the very nightmare was my current reality, I couldn't manage to shake my head or say no. I sat quietly. But I soon got very tired of the anxiety feeling so very heavy on my chest so now that I am a junior and he is a senior, I began to talk and talk loud. I wouldn't stop, when asked why I limp, I shyly tell the story. I have become so determined to stop this from ever happening to any other girl I want to become a lawyer. When asked if I could, would I take away what happened to me, I say no. The reason is though he took so much away from me including my ability to walk normally, he hurt others and I would take away their pain if I could. Upon hearing that he did this to three more women, I shrieked in horror and bawled for days. I was under the impression that if the police would have taken me seriously, 3 other women would have been saved from a monster like him. But, I have learned that the past, is something I am incapable of changing. But, I am not incapable of changing the future so it starts here, with my story, and the story of others because we, we will be the change.

Sometimes in life, things occur that rip your soul out and it is hard to navigate what to do and feels like you should just give up. I have been there, I feel like everyone has in some way at least once in their life. You can throw an experience that gives you every reason to just stop, and that… that is when you decide, you choose how you want to proceed. Will you fight, or will you give up? Vulnerability is immensely powerful in the aid of others. It shows that you too are human, you have imperfections and make mistakes but you rise so sharing the stories that make you upset, sad, or inflict any sort of sad emotion, can help someone obtain the courage needed to move forward. But, vulnerability is far from easy. After I was raped last year and broke y foot as a result, I came back to school in a wheelchair for many months and when asked what happened, I was embarrassed by my story, scared to be vulnerable so I simply said that I took a fall down the stairs. That is not true. I broke my foot after falling 15 feet out of my bedroom window and that happened after I was presented with an option by my abuser, I either come to sneak over to his home and be assaulted again, or he will come to mine and kill me and my parents. So, I did what I thought I should and tried to sneak out but instead, took a trip to a hospital. Everyone thought I would be silent after this, surrender. But I am far from silent, I advocate and be vulnerable and encourage survivors to talk, silence is powerful, but talking is even more powerful.

At the age of ten, I wrote in my diary titled “bucket list” in glittery blue pen. I placed bullets ranging in size to establish importance if the margin and began the list with “ bungee jump, sky dive, snorkel, ride a hot air balloon… etc” At 13, I added to that list “ be ok with the death of grandpa.” and at 14 I grabbed the book yet again and added “pray for aunt t-t to get new lungs.” and the last three things written in that book are “ get your rapist in jail, be a lawyer to put guys like him away, have mom be cancer free.” Those last three things were written in black, the font was serious and not fun and happy, my I’s were squigly and the page bled as I cried on the book. Looking at this list, I see the little girl and the childhood I outgrew at my first loss. My grandfather died of a lung disease which was very hard for everyone in my family and as I was just coming to termswith wha happened so suddenly, my aunt was diagnosed with the same disease. I am happy to say that some of those bullets that 10 year old girl wrote were crossed. I snorkeled on vacation and kissed the tail of a wild stingray, I came to terms with my grandpa's death, my aunt got a full double lung transplant and is doing great and I am in a highschool being taught by a lawyer to be a lawyer. Though I can understand how my writing can be seen as sad, I dont want you to take it in such a way, take it as growth… an ambition that I can fight twords.

We live in a society filled with so many things made to tear you down, challenge you and, this is often confused with the term nature. For nature is the simplistic complication of natural beauty here in a world not including human life. Nature can be the squishy grass under your feet to the most intricate of mountains that rise over the tiniest of villages. But, nature definition is forever changing because, for you, nature can mean acres of land rich in color and animals with beautiful tall trees and blooming flowers, but when you live an hour outside of manhattan… the term is a bit different. In New York City there is pavement built over the tiniest blades of grass peeking through the cracks and the birds who crowd the subways. I am lucky enough to have an ocean and bay right at my fingertips. Surfing is a true beauty. The ocean is bright in blue and the sand swirls around your toes, fish curious of you and your board… the howling of the wind and the hot sun right over your back. Dolphins swim at the horizon and crabs grab the tip of your toes. That is the nature I can appreciate greatly, that is the nature I grew up in and learned to swim in. We all can see what is occurring in our world and we need to make the change, recycle, plant trees, all of that is great stuff but also, be kind. Be kind because every curve in that very dirt that the grass you walk upon lays above on, has a story. Nature is a book of beautiful and tragic wonder and one we are very lucky to have.

“In these dangerous times, where it seems that the world is ripping apart at the seams, we all can learn how to survive from those who stare death squarely in the face every day, and [we] should reach out to each other and bond as a community, rather than hide from the terrors of life at the end of the millennium.” - Jonathan Larson This. THIS is universal. It is a sentence that can shapeshift into what a person needs it to mean whether it is a general stance or if it pertains to what one may be living through. For me, I can relate to this right in these various moments in one very effective way for me emotionally. I am currently watching my mom fight stage 4 ovarian cancer. Seeing her sick is like chewing on glass, it hurts deeply. But it is not that it is sad, it's the fact that I feel like I am drowning. I distance myself from the people who can help, all whilst I am in the midst of self-destruction. Admission is absolutely terrifying because it feels as if as long as you ignore it, it is not there but it is quite the opposite. We as people, the moments we feel lost and out of touch, my way needs the guidance of friend and admitting that does not make you weak, but it does make you incredibly strong.

What makes me happy? Well, we would all like to know that answer. We watch as people run wild, dance the dangerous tango with drugs and artificial facades. What is happiness? Is it feeling content in a world of striving for the best you can reach? Is it money? As you can probably tell, I have tons of questions… but, I do know this. Happiness is feeling content and security so whether you are rich or poor, happiness fluctuates the endless boundaries and definitions meant to fit your life. Happiness for me is something that constantly is changing. Happiness is a complex fight, like the happiness I felt when I was surfing for the first time after two foot surgeries and the diagnosis of arthritis. And its family, after the diagnosis of my mom's cancer, seeing her go to see a movie or hang out with her friends, is a simplistic victory. Playing old records and hearing the crackle of the old music come off the spinning disk, the funny things my dog does, and how excited he gets when you say “grandma” and “Liebe” (Liebe is our elderly neighbor that absolutely adores my dog.) Happiness isn't very specific and sometimes, it doesn't happen very often. So.. how do you “be happy.” well, sometimes… it is not that simple. Depression has eaten me whole more than once and I won't act like these simple things cured it but, you can't be scared to laugh… because when something is truly funny… you will laugh. Happiness can't be found in one continuous experience… it's a journey.

Creazione di Adamo also known as The creation of Adam is a stunning work of art created by the famous artist Michelangelo. It is a part of the wonderful work of art placed with the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. Though it is a work of religious narrative, that is not the reason why it is so inspiring and beautiful to me. My grandfather was a first-generation Italian American, His name was Michael Angelo. He had a lung disease that he kept a secret from most of our family for several years and while he was fully aware that without a lung transplant, it was very likely he would pass away, he continued to live his life until it became too difficult. So, he started to paint. I always was very artistic even as a young child so he and I would frequently bond over the beautiful work he had created that was rich in color and beautifully imperfect. Before he passed and before I knew he was ill, he gave me a case of oil paint, his oil paint. I didn't know why this was given to me, too young to put together what was occurring but then I opened that very case and saw a beautiful painting of his version of Creazione di Adamo and it is a reminder of a very scary day, My grandfather's reason for refusing a lung transplant was that he wanted to give a younger person a chance to live the life he lived. A year later, my aunt was dying, waiting for a pair of lungs for her progressing lung disease. The moment we walked into the hospital and heard that she got the lungs, there it was... Creazione di Adamo in that hall of that very hospital, a sign, a sliver of hope.

Released in 1957, “Tonight” is a beautiful song from the beautiful musical West Side Story. Written by Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim, Tonight is a song that was placed in a pivotal moment within the play. West Side Story is a modern-day Romeo and Juliet set in the 1950s in the upper west side of manhattan. Conflict arises between two street gangs, the sharks who are Puerto Rican immigrants, and the jets, who are white men. Growing up, this soundtrack was something I heard frequently while with my grandfather, a child of Italian immigrants who grew up in Manhattan. He saw the rivalry between races all the time, signs hanging stating whether or not certain nationalities of people are allowed in certain businesses. Tonight is a love duet between Tony and Maria, Tony is a jet and Maria is the sister of the leader of the sharks. The song occurs on an old school New York City apartment balcony, a tribute to Romeo and Juliet, and the two teens confess their prohibited love. The song is all about how the world was ordinary and full of struggles but all of a sudden that all stops and the world becomes lit with pure joy and hopefulness. I rediscovered this song in the worst time of my life, I was recently assaulted and in the hospital with a broken foot in need of surgery, depressed, and the news of a stage 4 cancer diagnosis of my mother. This song gave me the hope I needed to push forward. The song is beautiful, hopeful and very amazingly done going through very different emotions, tones, and volumes. It is a real reflection of what was occurring in that time, in my life with a personal conflict, and within our society… beautiful tragedy.

A book I read last year in less than two days, Bryan Stevenson's Just Mercy. Within 336 pages, Stevenson was more able to tell a compelling story than any book I have ever read. It was compelling with what I was going through at the time. I read this shortly after learning that the same guy that assaulted me, went on to assault 4 more girls within a year. The book is written about Bryans's story, a young black lawyer at the time of the story found what is referred to as ELI (Equal Justice Initiative.) ELI is a legal practice that is dedicated to defending those who are desperate and in need of legal guidance. Among the book, I was introduced to Walter Mcmillan, a young black man who was sentenced to death for a murder that he claims he did not commit. This case not only shaped Bryan as a lawyer, but as well as his understanding of empathy, mercy, and justice forever. Personally, there has never been a book I could relate to strongly, this book inflicted so many emotions in me. Within the story told beautifully and tragically by Bryan, we see struggles, real-life struggles experienced due to the color of one's skin the affected them vastly. After being assaulted, I wanted to be a lawyer and the need was on a higher scale than ever before. I will fight and this book gave me the anger needed to want to induce change. This book goes to a very real and deep scale, it is one that was tragic, horrifying, funny, and beautifully written. It is a book I recommend everyone shall read.

I’m Katie, and I fell in love with the wrong person. That is something I have never admitted. When I was 15, I thought I was in love, of course, I never truly knew what love was. I was truly mistaken, it began… overwhelmingly normal, he was quiet… mysterious in a way. That turned sour and ultimately, left me broken. I was raped, I was 15… never had my first kiss and then all of the sudden, my world slipped away. As a result of the rape, I was left in the hospital needing two, 8 hour long surgeries to repair my broken tibia, fibula, and ankle. Life was hard, but I did not stop there. Both my depression and anxiety increased in such a deep way. I slept too much, I couldn't sleep at all. I ate too much, then I could barely eat anything. My room became an abyss of today's breakfast and yesterday's crumbled-up post-it notes. I now see that man, every day that I am in school. Right as the light began to trickle back within my life, the stories of four other girls rose upon the surface lever and my name was out publicly. I was known as the girl the was stupid enough to fall for him and you know what, I was. Because of this experience… I fight. I want to be a lawyer. Crap experiences throw you some serious curveballs but I am proud to say, I am growing. I am eating, seeking help through therapy, as well as pushing through my injury. I am ding better, I am happy. For once I am happy and though my world is with an abundance of chaos, I am content cause life is too limitless to give up.

When growing up, the ways that there were to stay healthy within my life were things such as bike riding, swimming running, etc. Something I never considered is… what are the options if you can't walk? My name is Katie and when I was 15 years old, I broke my leg and foot in 3 places. I was ignorant when thinking that I would be back to normal and I was wrong. I was used to broken bones, I played soccer for about 8 years on and off, acquiring 1 broken wrist as well as broken legs 3 times. I always bounced back. I was at a complete loss after 3 months of my injury, why couldn't I walk yet? What I never realized is how there are so many other ways that are relevant in keeping healthy. I fell 20 feet, and when I fell… I broke my tib, fib, and ankle requiring two surgeries. I struggle with both depression and anxiety and surgery inclined a horrible process. Being unable to walk, I became used to sleeping off my depression. I started trying, first, squats. It was painful but I fought and though it is been a year, I'm still fighting but I'm proud of my milestones. I cook every meal for myself, I ran on the treadmill for 30 minutes. I fought. I'm actively talking about my feeling, expressing them, and seeking help. Sometimes it is not easy and it will go past just a bike ride… it starts within the inside. Live has become healthy, and though far from simple… worth living. Life is a fight.

Every 68 seconds an American is sexually assaulted. The statistics of 1 out of every 6 women in America has been a victim of a completed rape or an attempted rape, it is revolting and angering. 13% of those women attempt suicide. I've always known that rape was an issue, but it wasn't till I experienced this that I had anger and an ambition to make a change. It started very young, I was molested in school at the age of 9. Upon notifying the school, nothing occurred due to the student being in a special ed class though the reason for him to be in the class was due to a speech impediment. The student went on to molest me again and that day was the start of my severe anxiety in highly populated areas as I fear someone is going to inappropriately touch me. At the age of 15, I was raped by a junior with whom I went to school. This all occurred with his brother only just a room away. Due to the rape, I broke my foot in three places, and now, I'm still fighting for a normal life and trying to gain my foot back to how it was. While healing mentally from the rape, I was juggling so many things from healing, having my mom being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, and seeing my rapist in school. I see him every day, it's terrifying but I will fight. I'm studying criminal justice in a secondary high school being taught by a lawyer. I want to be a lawyer. I want to induce change and help rape victims heal and gain the justice they deserve. Within this, it's given me a distraction, something to look forward to. We need change, and it starts… now.

Growing up, I was taught the fundamentals of giving back to the community… Whether it was volunteering at events or donating old toys to the homeless shelter, I always had the impression that you could only really give certain things and others would not be as important. As I've grown to experience more hardships within my life, I have a new outlook upon this life I've been dealt with and the life that so many others are going through alongside me. I've grown to experience the most painful experience in my life and that experience was rape. Because of this rape, my friends at school became divided… his side, or mine. I've been left disabled for months, requiring two 8 hour surgeries on my foot and ankle, an injury caused by the rape. I've needed friends and when I needed them most, most of the people I ever considered friends were nowhere to be found. Though I was terrified to speak, I needed to… so I did. After my experience, all I wished is that someone would have warned me of the type of guy I was getting involved with. Now, I feel obligated to speak out, to let other possible victims of this monster know that they are not alone. Since opening up publicly about my experience, 4 girls have reached out to me, 2 of whom had made plans to meet with him that week. The other two girls and I told our stories to the school and all together went to the police. We. Will. Fight…. I WILL FIGHT. I will always fight and for the rest of my life give back. I will induce change.

Life tends to present itself as Mirage, right as you see the good begin to appear, it vanishes as you get closer. To be quite honest, for the last year I can say that I have been taking life for granted. During this horrid year, I have been so concerned about the universal issues rather than my own… that was until I was looking right at the bad. 2020 came to a great start, I was hopeful. A year prior, my aunt nearly passed during a double lung transplant and only a year before that, my grandfather died of lung disease, the first time I witnessed someone begin to fade away. Needless to say, I needed a good year… but what did I get? I got hell but I also got a new view on the little things. Shortly after the world came to a halt, mine did too. My mother was diagnosed with cancer but the doctors gave us a mirage, Surgery would cure it. Though it was terrifying, my mother had a full hysterectomy and then… we were fine. Until… I was raped and as a result, I also broke my leg in three places, needing two surgeries. Just as I began to heal, my mother's cancer came back, stage four. I have an ambition, a need to be a lawyer… to change the system and invoke a change we desperately need. I also want to be a mom. My mom has shown me the joy in adoption and though we still are hurting, we are hurting together. I get to take in the little things like the ocean, talks with my mom, car rides with my dad. Suffering, it hurts, it's painful, but it brings a view I would never have if not for those experiences.

We spend our lives exhausting ourselves of things within our lives that give up joy. Working ourselves into a shell of what once was and forgetting the things we ever once loved and enjoyed. Life goes through waves of pure joy to crippling depression and it feels as if you are swimming up to the surface of the ocean after living in the dark. I grew up living at the beach, spending hours surfing, and after breaking my foot in three places and obtaining arthritis, I thought I would never be able to do it again…. I was wrong. The feeling of the crisp salted drops of water being blown within the wind while you swim with the fish dancing around your toes. Dipping your nose off the board into the wave and feeling a sense of euphoria. Sleeping in the sand and having that moment of awake and sleep where you feel weightless. As if you are floating within a pure sense of perfect simplicity. The smell of cooked cinnamon apples and warm holiday candles, sleeping with the light of the Christmas tree, and the joy of a wood fire. The sound of an old record on a record player while Christmas songs crackle as a life that record lived. Old black and white movies and watching movies on the old CDs that come in the thick boxes. Though it is simple, it feels cozy. Life is chaotic, difficult, and quite serious. These take me back to being little, where life was quite easy and simple. It reminds me of nights at my grandparent's and watching the wizard of oz, the first time I went on a surfboard. It takes us back and brings us a break from a chaotic world.

If you were to ask me a year ago what I would want to do in the future, chances are I wouldn't have an answer but now… experiences within my life have changed my path of focus. Growing up I lived in a loving family, I have a brother the same age and two loving parents. My dad worked in local law enforcement while my mom worked for a bigtime pharmaceutical company in Manhattan. My mom was very busy, late nights, business trips, missing concerts, etc. Though this was difficult, I knew that once we got older she would be around more. Though I was right I now wish I was wrong. In 2020 she was diagnosed with cancer, this was her second time with cancer but she had a full hysterectomy and everything was fine… till she found a lump. She now has stage 4 cancer and though it's treatable, it is scary and horrible. So now she is home, all the time, sick and tired, and sometimes I wish she would just go back to being gone at work because… this is miserable. Due to my experience of being raped, I want to be a lawyer and spend every free hour studying as well as going to two schools, one is specialized in criminal justice. So now, I know where I want to be. I want to work my tail off establishing myself as a lawyer so by the time I am ready, I will cherish every moment with my children. I will try to make it to every game and set aside time for my kids. I will go on to adopt children as well as that is something my parents did for my brother and me. Balance is hard but I will fight to have both.

Roses are red Violets are blue You called me ugly? Holy hell look at you I am a cat You are a dog You bark at me I will get you to wait just and see Laying in my bed You funny little fellow I lift my leg and now you are the color yellow Twinkle twinkle little star Seems that I have lost my car It was here no it was there Holy hell I left the keys in there Twinkle twinkle little star Wonder where the hell you are o Tannenbaum O pelican O pelican Tell me how the hell you can Store some food in your beak Man your breath must really reek O pelican O pelican Buy some toothpaste I beg you man Eight I ate the number eight I gave it quite a good rate Momma says it's getting too late There goes my sister kate Oh yes I ate the number eight Woke up the next morning with a great big tummy ache Momma told me happy birthday Tate Gosh now I have to eat a great big birthday cake Covid 19 Last year I turned the age 16 Life was fun, nice, and clean haven't left my house in nearly a year I ate and ate and grew big in the rear Covid 19 was not so fun Holy cow why arent we done Now I'm finally turning 17 Masks are still on my face and will be when I'm 19 O how fun when I was eight Ran and play no worries to take But the greatest age was number 10 Seemed to be so normal all the way back then sugar, sugar o so sweet I can no longer see my feet Bought too many little plants All are dead, hate this virus really bad Shoes I walk in the same shoes I do every day They stink real bad and the smell won’t go away I threw them in the wash time and time again The smell just won't go away When will this end Maybe I should wear some socks Ah but that would take the fun out of the choice to walk So now I sit with smelly shoes Smelly belly welly boots Mud pies I made my brothers birthday cake I don't like him very much so I made it my own way Pile or grass with rolling worms Dirt brown face, chocolate cake is the worst

Often, people write poetry to express emotions that may be deemed as dark and inflict a serious emotional response in the read. I write to help myself as it has been a major healing mechanism for me. I write for closure, for healing, for boredom, for fun. I write for myself. I would now like to add a piece I have been working on about the experience I have been through. Their eyes travel across the room for a view that causes her such perturbation is also irresistible She wonders about the boy who seemed quiet and mysterious So as she asks about his favorite color Silence emerges He responded with a question of sexual curiosity A curiosity that was the first chain link created to lock her in It forced her mind to create absolute delusion for her protection But in this process caused her to walk into a house of hell And as he choked the words from ever being able to escape her mouth He said his favorite color was purple For it was the color her face turned to as oxygen left her brain Creativity is something that has come to soothe me in times that have felt so overwhelming. Though this piece is uncomfortable, it is real. It's about rape and validating my story and many other people's. It is meant to make the reader emotional, horrified, speechless, taken back. I write for myself, I will continue to do so and encourage others as well. Though it is not a cure for the pain I have endured, it is a method I have depended on with my healing and without it, I don't know what I would have done.

Persistence means to do something even if it's difficult…. They never do tell you how very difficult it can be. October 2020, I found myself looking down at my leg, my bone snapped in half I screamed in agony. I spent 7 days in the hospital acquiring 2 surgeries that were 7 hours each. That night, I broke my tibia, fibula, and ankle and since then, my life has changed completely. I had to stop performing as I can't dance and give up soccer, I missed 1 month of school last year and my grades suffered because of it. Now, I'm a junior, and last year, I was sure that by this time, I would be pretty much back to normal… I'm not. I've spent hundreds of hours researching remedies, hours of intense physical therapy, and long doctor's appointments. I limp around school and while writing this, I am in immense pain. I feel guilty cause though I do have a leg and I see many people who do not, I would rather have an amputation. My injury, well it didn't happen in “okay” terms. I broke my foot as a result of my rape and now, every day while I limp the halls of my school... I watch him run as if he is weightless while I'm sinking. So what do I do know? I write and express my emotions in a limitless way. I work to my goal and push through workouts on the treadmill. I face the man that has caused me so much pain every day standing tall and proud even when there are days I feel small and damaged. I advocate for the people who cant and While I'm still healing, I will fight hard as hell to do better. To make a change.

This Tyson! He is a 4 year old bullmastiff who is the laziest boy you will ever meet. He is 35lbs of muscle and 100lbs of pure woof. He's been on the news for singing along with fire department horns and he loves his humans.

Allyship is a lifelong process of building relationships based on trust, consistency, and accountability with marginalized individuals and/or groups of people. There is no rule book on friends but sometimes, you know. You know who are good friends even if they make bad choices. And well this, this is how it started. I was raped in September of 2020 by a fellow student who is now a current senior. I also broke my leg in three places due to him. I thought I was the only one like I was targeted but I was sadly wrong. October of 2021, four girls in my high school came forward with the stories of their assault. The similarity? We were all assaulted by the same man. I opened up about my story to spread awareness and due to this, my very close friend told me that his old friend, the ex-girlfriend of the rapist, was also assaulted by him. My friend grew up with this man so hearing this, was very hard for him. I fistfight took place between them and in response to the anger, my rapist posted screenshots of my private messages that were misconstrued in a way to seem as if I was lying. I was angry and scared as all the emotions were flooding. Two weeks after the fight, my friend my now be expelled for the fight while the rapist, he's back after 5 days of suspension. I received a message from a girl whose name, rings a bell. She is an ex-girlfriend of my abuser and she too was raped by him. This has caused her so much pain that she moved away because no one believed her but I do. I asked her to write about how our abuser has changed her life. She was able to finally share her story in a way that no one will judge, only listen. Then she was able to take back that power by reading what she had endured to our school's super attendant and all they did was listen. It was hard, but I would do it again and again. I will tell my story if there is a chance it will prevent another girl from being in the hands of this monster. I want to be a lawyer to help people in similar situations as what i and these other girls have experienced. Due to me being so vocal about this, three girls have come forward after asking me for help. My school takes it a bit more seriously and this monster, he's scared. I will never stop and I will proudly stand beside these girls as long as needed.

Early September of 2020, I was raped by a boy I go to school with. Because of him, I also broke my foot in three places causing two surgeries and possibly more. Before the rape, I was happy, with minimal anxiety, I could walk, run, sleep, without an issue. He took that away from me. Now upon dealing with the emotional and physical pain, he has brought upon me, my world is still very heavy. My mom has stage four cancer. Something that would be tremendously difficult to deal with and now I have all this baggage with it. All of this + working and keeping my average above an 85 just so I can get into a good school and proceed to law school. I am currently a junior, he is a senior. I see him every day in school, I have frequent anxiety attacks and am constantly on edge. Yesterday, I discovered something in myself that I had yet to notice. I go to two high schools, in the morning I take police science and criminal justice courses, and then I go back to my home high school. When I return, I see him every day in the bus loading area playing handball. And yesterday, it hit me. I was angry. I was angry to see him happy, not a care in the world while knowing he's harmed so many women and I'm over here in pain. That is my passion. My passion is taking that anger and doing something productive with it. I was given a second chance the day I broke my leg. It made me realize that I can take hold of a situation that seems to be like Pandora's box. After the assault, I decided to change my career choice. I wanted to go to this specialty high school program for singing, but upon finding out this man raped at least three other girls, I NEED to induce change. I want to be a lawyer. I want to advocate and spread awareness on how real this is and how so many women do the right thing and tell the police, school, etc. Just as I did and still get little to no justice. Change is something constantly evolving, changing with the demand of the world yet the laws upon this topic, still need tremendous change. We need teachers to be better educated of this scenario that I am in as well as what to do about it in a way that is allowed and benefits the victim. This scholarship is my chance. School is expensive and I need everything I can get. I know that none of this will be easy, but I was given another chance, a new look at a world that is horrifying and I am not going to hide. I will have difficult dissociations, I will help people understand my story and share it with others. I will be a part of this very real chance. I have the flame and I will not put that out no matter how hot it may be.

Depression is something that can swallow you to the point of no return. Your bedroom begins to look like a cry for help. New life is bred within the trash that lays upon your floor. That was me at one point, and this is how it started. I was raped. I was raped the summer going into my sophomore year. And now, as a junior, I see my rapist at least twice a day within the walls of the place parents send their children to be safe. I see the man who took something away for me. The man who watched me turn blue while he suffocated my airway. This is my reality. The next thirty-eight days after my rape, I spent in my room struggling to figure out what I did to cause this. My surroundings became chaotic, relationships became impossible, and so did my mind. I began to sleep the days away as that was the alternative to dying. But sleep soon became slim as I developed PTSD that would brew into earth-shattering night terrors. On the thirty-eighth day after my rape, I did something devastating. The whole world became useless to me, so while my mind was empty yet full, I jumped fifteen feet out of my bedroom window. The weight of myself came crashing on my left foot, breaking my tibia, fibula, and ankle. I was rushed to the hospital for two surgeries. While being surrounded by loved ones at the time of the injury, I felt the loneliest I've ever felt. Every person in my life's relationship soon became a weight on my neck once again. My relationship with my boyfriend became resentful. Intimacy puts me in an ultimate panic. A year out from the surgeries, I still am left unable to run, and left to walk with a limp. I await more surgeries, and just as I begin to see the nightmare twindle to light, the world comes to a screeching halt. Four girls came out as of recently, all stating their stories of them being raped…. The similarity, we share a rapist. My life, become a shell of where I was a year ago. The scars are open and fresh and I'm left weak. Though this would be an easy excuse to give up, lay low, not fight, it makes me want to fight more. Help the girls who have been through this, as well as gain control of my life. As well as make it known, it's okay to not be ok. I've learned a lot about the world. The world is filled with scary people, but it is also filled with help. Relationships, now are filled with complications, but within that, it gives me more of a flame. An ambition, and a love for my boyfriend, staying with me through this. I want to fight. This makes me want to be the voice, a lawyer to help change the system and the way the system gives the benefit of the doubt to these monsters. So I will fight, and I will not stop till there is change.

Change is a constantly transforming demand within our society. At the start of the pandemic, our society saw a great deal of affliction that was universal. We all saw the imperfections that were being perfectly hidden within the walls of great distraction. And while it seems that most of the universal population remained isolated, there are horrid things within the community. May 25th, 2020, The death of a 45-year-old black man named George Floyd. Floyd was murdered on that day in the hands of the people that are sworn to protect. His life was in the hands of 44-year-old Derek Chauvin, a white police officer who is universally seen as a protector. That is the type of person that took his life. This created a massive uproar. Black lives matter marches and social media posts were being uploaded and held frequently. Communities all over were demanding for the system to be changed. But why does it take massive and horrid experiences to cause major uproar? For the sake of this essay, I am going to change this man's name to David. In the school year of 2019, I was a freshman. I met David in our shared choir class at the age of 14 years old. He was a grade ahead. I thought he was cute but he and I only ever exchanged piercing looks and stares but never a conversation. That remained up until March of 2020 when the pandemic caused my school to go online. David and I remained in contact via Snapchat. Our conversations were very simplistic and innocent. This was how our conversations were until David began threatening me. I was met with a threat, a decision. David told me that if I do not meet with him he will come to my home and harm my family. I chose September fourth to go to his home and On that day, I was raped. Upon telling one of my friends about the rape, she convinced me that I was being outrageous and that I was only having a bad experience. I did not tell anyone for a while that I was raped. It got out at school and contact with David began once again. This time he gave me a choice that held a great deal of gravity. Either I sneak out again or he will come and kill my parents. That night, I attempted to sneak out, falling out of my 20 feet high bedroom window. Then is where I broke my foot in three places, causing two surgeries and severe arthritis. Now, I'm a junior and he is a senior. I see him every day at school. I have been verbally harassed and threatened and the school can not do anything. I told the police and they said that they believed I was lying. They did this same thing to four other girls in my school that were raped by him. Now I go to another high school alongside my normal one where I study criminal justice. Because of this experience, I have a flaming urge to be a lawyer. I want to be a person that helps protect and serve people. I would and will do everything in my power to help every rape victim I am able to get justice. The system of justice needs to change and fast. Though it is horrid that I went through this, it is because of this that I will do everything to be the best lawyer. I will go through every person I need to to get justice. I will never stop.

What has your experience with your disability taught you? How would winning this scholarship help you reach your goals? On October 16th, 2020 I broke my tibia, fibula, and ankle. I was hospitalized for a week undergoing two surgeries. Though it's been a year, I have severe arthritis and the ankle of a seventy-year-old. I feel pain every day and have hardware in my foot causing enormous pain and inability to freely move. I grew up in a small town in long island, new york. This town is one where everyone knows everyone's dirty secrets. I am a junior in high school currently, and I am known as “the girl that was raped.” I was sexually assaulted about two weeks before my injury. After the rape, I fell into a depression after the one person I told did not believe me. Then, that all bloomed into worsening paralyzing agony, literally. My rapist gave me the choice the night of my injury, either I sneak out and go see him once again, or he will harm me and my family. I spent an hour questioning and ultimately chose to sneak out even though I knew that if I saw him, I would likely be harmed. I contemplated jumping out of my twenty-foot-high drop window, climbing out three times, and returning to my bedroom. The fourth time though, I fell straight on my ankle. I am unable to work, when getting a job over the summer to help with my college tuition, I had to quit. I was unable to walk and stand for as long as my shift required me to. I am eager to work, I've looked forward to doing so but now, once again I am unable due to being needing the third surgery within the next couple of months. This coming surgery will consist of the scope of my ankle as well as, and more seriously, a card lengthening as I am unable to effectively walk without causing damage to my knee. I have never been one to ask for help, but I need it. Sitting here, writing this, I feel out of place. Some people have lost limbs from war while I, well I ultimately caused my injury. I feel, though, that I should give this a shot…. Share my story to spread awareness. Things happen and it is okay. Stories of an injury, even if people think it is invalid, are valid. I hope that one day I can share my difficulty story as my rapist is still raping and is still in my school.

Church and state. The definition? “The separation of church and state is a philosophic and jurisprudential concept for defining political distance in the relationship between religious organizations and the state.” In this case, Church and state is the simple issue and separation between School discipline and legal discipline. 2020, I was raped by a junior at the time who at the time of me writing this, is currently a senior. I told the school that I was raped by a fellow student. Legally, the school can't and did not do anything to protect me. My abuser then proceeded to harass me by coming to my home and vandalizing our family vehicles as well as actively trying to contact me and members of my family. Upon notifying the police of all of this, nothing was done. This was my sophomore year. Now…. I am a junior. I recently found out, and the school confirmed this, that 4 new girls came forward who are fellow students of my highschool claiming that they too were raped by my abuser. The school, well… They had a meeting with our abuser that went something like “ So we have reason to believe that there is an issue between you and girls you have sexual relationships with… (insert consent speech). Police have been notified and you shall not actively talk to these women. Do you understand?” Obviously, he didn't as he proceeded to follow me around in my school a day after this speech. Our schools, well they legally can't do much while police… just don't want to.The police in my town, while they take most crimes seriously and claim to care, there are 4 women who remain unoticed and unbelived. Deemed unworthy of protection from the force and remain to fight for our own.

The world is constantly throwing achievable ideals that are built like a rigged arcade game that a person will likely never win. Society throws everyone on a loop that is never-ending while people are constantly comparing themselves to another who is unachievable. Children are developing eating disorders at ages as young as eight. I started dieting at the young age of nine. While most nine-year-old girls are worried about art and dolls, I was worried about seeing how many hours I could go without eating. Society gives you a pill to swallow that is equivalent to chewing glass. The system is rigged as I find myself constantly comparing my body to one that is the utmost achievable. We have to take back the things that are deemed within our society as weak and unattractive. Be vulnerable. You should not question and restrict yourself from doing or wearing something based on bloating or a small or big tummy. I am beautiful and I will accept myself for everything that I am. If I need a day to just hide behind a sweater and seats, then fine. I will take that day because it's ok to feel insecure but know that everyone does. Every day I take a look at myself fully nude. I take a look at my scars and stretch marks, my love handles, cellulite, leg hair, and everything in between. For everyone, is a beautiful human being that deserves the love and truth that you can provide for yourself. We, as human beings, are our one true selves.

Friendship is a complicated relationship that can tend to bring the most heart-wrenching heartbreak that one can endure. Friends are something I am not quite good at maintaining; I tend to allow the chaos within my mind to form into the poison of these “friends.” Elementary school is a bubble of innocence where maybe the worst one will encounter is prima donnas. I remember that my world came to a devastating halt whenever I was in fifth grade. I was on the school bus and any girls I had been friends with for six-something years did not want anything to do with me; I later went home that day and contemplated self-harm. I was ten years old. To my surprise, the worst was yet to come because then my best friend in ninth grade told me I was lying and deserved to be sexually assaulted. So, friends, I can say confidently, it never came easy…. But the true ones, well they stay. My boyfriend, who happens to be my best friend, saved my life. I sincerely mean this due to the things he and I have endured. I was raped during our relationship, contemplated my life, and sustained an earth-shattering leg injury during our relationship. He remains patient as I am trying to figure out the cards I have been dealt. And my friends at school, who call me late at night when I wake up from night terrors or walk me past my abuser. Though the last three years have been the most isolating for me personally, it was also an eye-opening discovery as through the fires of my life, the houses left unscathed are the friends who will walk through the blaze with me for the rest of my life.

I was raped the summer going into my Sophomore year, I was fifteen years old. Leaving the location where my rape occurred, I called my best friend at the time who in response to my situation, said that I was lying and that it was not illegal.... it was just a "not so great experience." I then, in response to her remark, convinced myself I was lying. Every day I withheld this information, the weight that lay among my chest intensified; until I could not hold anymore. About four months after my assault occurred, I told the police. I was told that I was a liar, that even if there was an overwhelming amount of proof, she would not want to bring it into the courts. Due to me not being taken seriously, he went unnoticed while he raped four more known victims. I will not be quiet anymore though I once had those very hands around my through, they no longer remain and I will yet let his power linger. Though it was hard, I face him every single day at my school. I do not remain quiet as I actively represent and talk on behalf of women who are unable. I spend every free minute educating myself on the legal system as I will try as best as I can to be the detective and lawyer I wish I had. So I will post on social media as an alley and share my very difficult story, as I will not stop fighting.

Memories are a set series of books that fit perfectly within one's personal story. The colors dance within the holder of the memories mind as the story appears as a slideshow placed intricately. But mine seem to come within flashes, tainting the colorful and childlike mind of mine gray. They hold the power to trigger such an emotion that causes me to burst into tears without thought. This is my most unmemorable, yet memorable memory. When my grandpa's name begins to be brought up, my mind skips all the good that I may hold. My mind skips to his last day. It was late June in New york. I remember a slight breeze and hearing the playing children while I made my way to the hospital. His reason for being there was left unknown to me at the time. My mom called my dad and to come back later that day as he was busy with tests. While everyone around me seemed clueless to the feeling I received with that news, my body became utterly filled with fear that paralyzed every fiber of my body. I became nauseated, and even three years later while I recall that every day, I feel the acid burning down my throat and my eyes begin to flood. Two hours later, my grandfather took his last breath while I stood outside the family room down the hall watching the panicking nurses. Memories and though this one peirces my fragile heart, i snuggle it closely within my very soul.

The words Americans live by are “we the people'' but, who does that include? During the creation of the constitution, the definition of “you” was free white men. That definition might as well still be relevant. Women empowerment will always be a challenge as there will always be men who fear women in power. Women were seen as “property” for years, being expected to stay home, tend to children, and not allowed to have a voice nor have a job. There are tons of ways that can be done within society to empower our women. Women, who are just or even more capable of doing so compared to a man, should be put in leadership roles. Within big companies, for years even within the media, board rooms are filled with men. If women are present, they are not taken seriously. I worked at a local store within my community, there were 5-hour shifts alone and they only hired female high school and college students. In a span of a month, there were 3 separate situations where there were men who came into the store. I was called a dumb blonde, asked if I was lost, or would ask for a man instead of me. Women all have similar experiences starting at such young ages. Women are worthy of so much more respect that is lacking within society. People in our society and government who hold high amounts of power, should actively speak on behalf of women and advocate for women to be able to have the power they deserve. Women, especially ones of color, are at lack access to basic services if they are living in the poverty line. During covid, women saw many issues during covid especially when it came to medical attention, and work. Society allows for the growth of respect within certain communities while others still have a long way to go until we, as women, gain the power and respect I deserve. For we, as women, are more than child carriers, for though our bodies bless us with the resources to grow and feed a child, does not mean we as women are obligated to do so. Stigma is a major issue, we, as women, should be able to break through the stigma and within that process, have men that support us.

In 2018, it was reported that the second top reason for death in people ages ten to twenty-four was suicide. For most, it is shocking to ever believe that a child the age of ten would take their life…. But for me, this is not that shocking. Recently I found a poem I wrote at the age of thirteen, I would like to include an excerpt “While me, a 13-year-old girl is sitting on my bedroom floor crying I'm crying cause I was so obsessed with having a thigh gap, That I spent the last 30 minutes using duck tape to tape down my fat thighs Or also me, a 13-year-old girl, throwing up my second meal of the day, Or me, a 13-year-old girl, screaming after looking at my reflection in the mirror I punched the mirror and watched the reflection fall away And I cried and used that very same glass to slit my wrists And I sat there and yelped and wanted to die because I want for once to feel pretty” I needed help, but as a child, adults don't accept that you may have depression. I did. I could say firsthand, that if there wasn't a stigma to mental health, especially in children, I would have never considered taking my life. Our children are precious. They need support, and I think we can start here. There should be a wide talk at school, counselors available at all times. Teachers and parents should be educated on mental health's importance within the youth and value it. This is so important because if we give children the tactics to tackle things like depression, and anxiety, it can keep things at bay in some situations. Our children deserve our help… before it's too late.

A year ago, I sustained a devastating injury. I jumped out of my bedroom window falling fifteen feet. Due to this decision, I broke my tibia, fibula, and ankle. While being bombarded with judgement and questions from doctors, I was met by the only person in the hospital who just sat with me. Though I don't remember her name, I remember her kindness. While I sat within a hospital, unable to walk, she would sit beside me and let me cry and make it known that if I wanted to talk, she would listen. The day of my first surgery, she had sat next to me and said the words ``I will never forget.'' Though it's dark right now within your world, it will not always be broken." Three months after she said this to me, I finally gained the courage to tell my story. That day, I went to school and sat with the deans and counselors and told them I was raped. I was raped by a fellow student. It is because of the words she told me, that I was able to tell my story. The rape was now over a year ago, but the wound hasnt gone. The scars on my leg have not faded, but the world remains cracked. Though it will always remain cracked, it will never be broken. Those words give me the strength to face my abuser everyday as I pass him in the halls of my school. Those words were my lifeline.

Depression is something that can swallow you to the point of no return. Your bedroom begins to look like a cry for help. New life is bred within the trash that lays upon your floor. That was me at one point, and this is how it started. I was raped. I was raped the summer going into my sophomore year. And now, as a junior, I see my rapist at least twice a day within the walls of the place parents send their children to be safe. I see the man who took something away for me. The man who watched me turn blue while he suffocated my airway. This is my reality. The next thirty-eight days after my rape, I spent in my room struggling to figure out what I did to cause this. My surroundings became chaotic, relationships became impossible, and so did my mind. I began to sleep the days away as that was the alternative to dying. But sleep soon became slim as I developed PTSD that would brew into earth-shattering night terrors. On the thirty-eighth day after my rape, I did something devastating. The whole world became useless to me, so while my mind was empty yet full, I jumped fifteen feet out of my bedroom window. The weight of myself came crashing on my left foot, breaking my tibia, fibula, and ankle. I was rushed to the hospital for two surgeries. While being surrounded by loved ones at the time of the injury, I felt the loneliest I've ever felt. Every person in my life's relationship soon became a weight on my neck once again. My relationship with my boyfriend became resentful. Intimacy puts me in an ultimate panic. A year out from the surgeries, I still am left unable to run, and left to walk with a limp. I await more surgeries, and just as I begin to see the nightmare twindle to light, the world comes to a screeching halt. Four girls came out as of recently, all stating their stories of them being raped…. The similarity, we share a rapist. My life, become a shell of where I was a year ago. The scars are open and fresh and I'm left weak. Though this would be an easy excuse to give up, lay low, not fight, it makes me want to fight more. Help the girls who have been through this, as well as gain control of my life. As well as make it known, it's okay to not be ok. I've learned a lot about the world. The world is filled with scary people, but it is also filled with help. Relationships, now are filled with complications, but within that, it gives me more of a flame. An ambition, and a love for my boyfriend, staying with me through this. I want to fight. This makes me want to be the voice, a lawyer to help change the system and the way the system gives the benefit of the doubt to these monsters. So I will fight, and I will not stop till there is change.

Rape: i’m paralized I’ll assume that at least once within your life, you have woken up from a disturbing nightmare. But, can you imagine a life where the reality is a nightmare? Sharing a hallway with the boy who strangled you. Hearing the voice of the one that stole something from me. The second he raped me, something completely shattered within me. I was raped at the age of 15. Knowing the feeling of a hand gripping my throat is not what paralized me. It's the helplessness. The fact that I can't offer a solution to this. As i sit here writing this, its been exactly 396 days since my rape. 5 days later, i proceeded to dye my hair brown as a way to try to gain the control of a life i lost control in. i didn't get that back, still haven't. 3 days ago, I found out that at least three other girls were raped after me. By him. The monster within the nightmare. And that's what paralyzes me. But now, I'm angry he's done it more. So I will fight. I won't be silent anymore. This will no longer be my nightmare, it will be his. After the event took place, I developed crippling anxiety and depression. My bedroom became a pit of depression. My relationship with my boyfriend became resentful. I could not gain the control of anything, except sleep. I slept because it was the alternative of dying. Until, I lost control of that too. I developed ptsd in the form of night terrors. Waking up at least 3 to 4 times a week. Intimacy puts me in an ultimate panic. Though the scariest this is, the grayness I feel. The numbness. The feeling of just the world going on, but leaving you behind. It leaves you absolutely paralized. Until I nearly became paralized, in a way. My rapist was threatening me. I was in such distress, I had jumped out of my bedroom window. I contemplated and was terrified, but I still did. The moment my hands released the window frame, I regretted it. The fall finally stopped. It felt as if I fell in slow motion. That is until the pain kicked in. I landed straight on my left foot, breaking my tibia, fibula and ankle. I was in the hospital for 7 days and all I wanted to do was scream and tell someone I was raped. I didn't. I am now, nearly a year out from my two surgeries, limp. I can't run. I can barely walk. And, I'm awaiting two more procedures. Though this would be an easy excuse to give up, lay low, not fight, it makes me want to fight more so. Help the girls who have been through this, as well as gain my control of my life. As well as make it known, it's okay to not be ok. I've learned a lot about the world. The world is filled with scary people, but it is also filled with help. Relationships, now are filled with complication, but within that, it gives me more of a flame. An ambition, and a love for my boyfriend, staying with me through this. Navigating a complication. This has given me fire, a fire I want to grow into initiative.