I became lucid when I learned to write. I was sleepwalking before then, a zombie traversing life with minimal cognizant brain power. Before I learned to write, I was a lotus eater. I sat on the little island in my mind and did nothing but dream and eat. My memories from back then are liquid. They were stored in the same leaky Ziploc bag labeled “memories, may be useful later” that holds dreams and mundane routines. I didn’t wake up when they taught me the perfunctory writing they teach elementary schoolers. Nor did I wake when they taught the basic five-paragraph essay in English 1. The writing I woke up for came to me from literature. I started to notice that the books I read were brilliant. They were more vivid and fantastical than any dream. I got my first taste of reality from them, and I was hungry for more. So I picked up my laptop and I wrote. I really wrote for the first time. I immediately noticed this writing talked back to me. It asked, who are you? What do you want? What do you see, hear, think, feel? Many writers will profess that they do it to escape. I can’t say the same. Ever since I started writing, I’ve never been more aware. I read more books, more articles, more news. I pay attention to the things people say, the little tics they have that make for good characters. My reality is more vivid than the dreams I had on that little island. I write to be conscious of the world. I write to live. College serves as the perfect place to indulge in life and my writing. My writing process is dependent on the outside stimuli I receive in people, events, and locations, all of which seem near infinite in college to a small-town North Carolina girl. When I open my laptop to write and it starts to ask what I have seen, heard, or felt, I’ll answer with every class I’ve taken, every new person I’ve bumped into, and all the textures of ideas floating in the air. Beyond ideas, I’ll spend time in college developing my basic skills. I understand grammar like a high school musician understands music theory. I know what looks right and sounds right, but I can’t quite replicate it for my own understanding. My major in Classics with a concentration in Latin will give me a basis for grammatical English, while the subject matter of mythology will help develop my repertoire of classical Western writing. I’ll also take creative writing classes to meet a community of writers and expand my horizons. Having feedback beyond my friends who adore me or internet strangers who give less-than-productive criticism will enrich my writing and my mind. I have two manuscripts I am working on right now. One is a West African dual-timeline fantasy, and the other is a portal fantasy. For my West African novel, I want to take classes focusing on ancient West Africa so I can grow the realism of my characters and settings. I have a basic understanding from my family, but getting to take an academic class is exciting. For my portal fantasy, I might not take any classes for it specifically, but I want to spend time in the hobbies and activities my characters have or pick up, like fencing, dance, or pottery. Writing helped me wake up to the joys of the world, and college will help me feed my enthusiasm to write. I have no intention of giving up either.

“Why study classics?” is a famed question in the modern era, usually followed by “How are you going to find a job?” and everyone’s favorite, “What’s classics? Like Shakespeare?” It’s not unusual to get these questions, especially since I’ve told everyone with ears that I plan to be an international relations lawyer. It leaves them a little puzzled, but to me, classics makes perfect sense. The modern Western world is built on ideas from ancient Greece and Rome; their rhetoric about freedom, democracy, manhood, and religion is common place. What understanding classics does for society is it allows for an understanding of what supports the Western world. There aren’t many great Enlightenment thinkers who didn’t credit ancient Greece and ancient Rome, and fewer Americans who won’t credit the Enlightenment for our Constitution. Before I can even venture into understanding the legal boundaries of other countries, it’s fundamental that I understand America. As a future lawyer, I feel it’s my duty to understand the history of America and the West before I can even begin to understand the magnitude of what makes America so great and so flawed. Classics connects naturally to law and, though less obvious, also informs international relations. While classics often centers on the West, it also encompasses the ancient Mediterranean, African, and Asian worlds. I’ve only applied to colleges whose classics programs extend beyond the West, allowing me to pair this study with International Relations and a minor in Chinese or Arabic to fully achieve my goals. In college, I plan to nurture the leadership I work every day to exhibit. As the saxophone section leader and woodwind captain, I worked hard to make my section feel seen and understood. I always wanted them to know that regardless of what was about to happen when we stepped out onto the field, I saw them. I saw their hard work and dedication and how they strove to be better every rehearsal. I want to transfer this skill of seeing my section to the team-based clubs like Mock Trial and Speech and Debate I plan to join in college. I also want to take the skills I’ve developed as the president of the high school Speech and Debate Club, as well as Mock Trial, to college. Ethics Bowl is a competition for Speech and Debate that I’ve made a priority in my presidency. It's the activity in which I notice the most growth in myself and my members. It builds collaboration, dialogue, and engagement. The ethical debates actively encourage members to think beyond their gut reactions and to work through their ideas with other people’s perspectives in mind. This skill is one that’ll be beneficial in group discussions throughout college, and it’ll help inform my perspective on international relations. I want to advocate for people across the world, and the only way I can effectively do so is if I understand the basis of my own country and the thoughts and biases that surround it, as well as if I take a collaborative approach and work with other people. Law, history, and advocacy are my greatest passions and interests, and I’ve worked hard to create a foundation I can expand upon in the coming years. By combining the analytical rigor of classics with collaborative leadership from band and Speech and Debate, and my own unique perspectives as the child of Togololese immigrants, I aim to advocate for communities worldwide with both insight and empathy.

For so many years, I let my mind wander, it was sweet at first. The healthy daydreaming that nourishes a young mind. A small indulgence to stave off the boredom of being an only child in an area devoid of children. It slowly soured over the years. Instead of a small daydream before bed, I’d wake up with my only real desire to dream. I began to pace my room, dragging imagined characters into my waking life. Overnight, these dreams fermented. A sweet child's indulgence had become a plum red wine. The fiction in my mind had overwhelmed my real life. I would start a simple task of doing my hair, then I’d blink and find myself out the door ready to catch my bus. The space of forty-five minutes gone in ‘lalaland’. In school, I’d drift off, imagining a more interesting lesson, a more charismatic teacher who could command my mind. I would count my rest in concert band, three two three four. Then I’d be gone. My attention was gone, and so much of my desire had faded. Why work hard to be respected by my friends when the ones in my head admired me so dearly? Why should I try in school when the me in my mind was already valedictorian? I would later find out that I have maladaptive daydreaming. A coping mechanism that involves elaborate daydreams that interfere with day-to-day life. When I tried to shut down my dreams, I became irritated, a deafening need to dream just as consuming as the real thing. I realized after a week of going cold turkey it wasn’t going to work. I was at a crossroads; I couldn’t continue to dream freely, as it was holding me back, but shutting them down was ineffective. I was left with one option: to make my dreams work for me. I shifted my dreams, turning them from fantasy to real livable goals. I’d often dreamt of being a talented creative, so I shifted my thoughts to making this achievable. I set a schedule to write and draw. I dreamt I was an accomplished physicist. I made a plan to get my start in physics at my local community college, and a further goal of going to university. I dreamt of being charismatic and magnetic. I made the goal of talking to new people every day. I dreamt that I wanted to be great, so I've been steadily laying the foundations. My mind and dreams are scattered, but I've made the promise to myself that I'd work hard at everything. My experience with mental health has both held me back and propelled me to my goals. It has allowed me to harness my creativity even as it threatens to consume me. To some, the idea of maladaptive daydreaming sounds 'silly,' but to me, it's a very real adversity I have struggled with. It has taken me honest time, effort, and consideration to overcome my maladaptive daydreaming. I’m still working to understand my mind and the underlying causes of my maladaptive daydreaming, but in the meantime, I’ll continue to turn one of my greatest adversities into a useful tool to reach my potential. Today I continue to work towards the newfound goals I’ve set for myself, no matter how tempting it is to sink back into a sweet lulling dream.

People are complex, a truth as old as humanity itself. Yet, so many of us struggle to accept this universal truth. "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak is a master class in complexity and empathy; many of its core themes illuminate the inner workings of the human psyche. The novel is beautifully written and is set in Nazi Germany, specifically in Molching on Himmel Street. The narrator of "The Book Thief" is Death—an element that adds irony to the book's larger themes. It begins with a series of spoilers related to the death of the main characters, pointing out pivotal moments in the protagonist Liesel's life. The novel showcases the moral ambiguity of the citizens of Molching, exploring peer pressure, cowardice, and the control the Nazis had over the small town. For the citizens, supporting Hitler’s regime was less of a choice and more of a necessity for survival. Their business's success and their family's safety both depended on this decision. Even mild opposition to the regime could put individuals and their families at risk. The novel provides insight into the reasoning behind the choices made by ordinary citizens and how each choice impacted those around them. "The Book Thief" beautifully delves into the consequences and destructive nature of hate. Initially, the Nazi regime provided temporary peace to the people of Himmel Street, allowing them to move through their days with relative comfort. However, as the novel progresses, hatred and prejudice erode their lives, bringing ruin to families and tearing apart friendships. The lives they stabilized with hate would rapidly collapse beneath them. In a world where it is all too easy to vilify and reduce everyone to their worst traits and decisions, "The Book Thief" imparts a valuable lesson in empathy and understanding, while also detailing the repercussions of hate. It offers insights into human mortality, family, empathy, peer pressure, and hate—lessons that will remain relevant for generations. For these reasons, "The Book Thief" is a book I believe everyone should read.

When most think of leaders, they think of a strong charismatic individual – someone who commands a room by presence and aura alone. Their every word is clear and thought through, with a noticeable absence of stutter and filler words. The leader stands above his peers; superior intellect and strength award him that position – a perfect archetype. For the longest time, I believed in that notion of a leader and strived to be him. As I grew older, I began to fine-tune my strengths and sought to hide my weaknesses. To be a strong leader, I couldn’t be weak. I had to be strong enough to lead. I ignored the world around me in hopes of becoming that perfect archetype. My classmates' and peers' opinions of me changed as I sunk further into my new goal. No longer was I nice, kind, funny, or a good person to be friends with. Instead, I became smart; nothing else was ever attributed to me. My classmates distanced themselves from me. For so long, I didn’t know why. Insecurity rooted itself in me. Why was I, the perfect example of a future leader, not connecting? It didn’t come to me until many months later when I abandoned the pursuit of being a leader, believing myself incapable. The answer? I had become unapproachable. In fiction, the perfect leader who displays no faults is loved. In reality, they are loathed. Perfection is abnormal and unapproachable, it inspires jealousy and distrust. Teens intrinsically dislike authority, lording authority is even worse. Someone who should be their peer attempting to control them is distasteful at best. I didn’t take into consideration my audience and their perception of the leadership I was attempting. Leading is not a one-size-fits-all position. Different leaders are necessary for different groups of people. The archetype of a leader I was trying to portray was incompatible with my peers and me. I am not that leader. I blend in when I enter a room, I stutter, I use filler words, and my intellect and strength have no place above anyone else's. Ironically, when I gave up on trying to be the perception of that leader, I became one of my own. Instead of leading above, I lead from within. Being smart and strong isn’t enough to make a good leader on their own. Creativity and resourcefulness are excellent traits that all leaders should strive to have, but none of those traits meant anything when I couldn’t gather a group of people around me. It was my imperfections that allowed others to get closer to me. My charisma wasn’t in perfection; it was in my imperfection. I once again found the charm of my early youth that had garnered me so many friends. Now, I am learning to use that charm and direct it toward positive change and growth in the communities I spend my time in. I grew the traits necessary for leadership last year. This year, I strive to be a true leader in a way that will serve my community over the fictional perfection of my past. For the rest of my life, I want to dedicate a part of myself to helping others, regardless of the position I created for myself. I’ll work to do that as I grow older by seeking out leadership opportunities and positions. What makes me a good leader is how I continue to grow my understanding of how others work, and how I can best support them. I am always striving to help and learn from my peers.