My name is Ky-Lin Berg, my Instagram is @shyberg, and my dog's name is Lexi. I have been accepted to Belmont University and plan to attend in the fall. 1: In early April, my parents surprised me with a little husky named Lexi! We could tell she would be a energetic pup straight away! 2: Lexi adores sticks and anything she can chew on! I'm just glad it isn't my shoes anymore! 3: As I prepare for college, I'm excited to see what my future holds. I just hope Lexi will welcome me back with plenty of kisses!

When we first met in freshman year, I recognized the look in your downcast eyes almost instantly. Just like me, you hid your pain and fear behind your books and sat in the farthest corner of the classroom to avoid attracting any attention. However, as we chatted during our writing club meetings, I began to learn more about you. You were shy and reserved, as I had guessed, but brimming with creative potential. Your writing never ceased to amaze me, and I valued your advice during workshops most of all. With a bit more poking and prodding, I eventually discovered that we shared an interest in Japanese culture and video games, something rarely found among our peers. From that point on, our friendship started. I didn’t know it then, but that club room would not be our last encounter. The very next year, we were both thrilled to have an actual class together and spent most of our time flashing the other various doodles from a desk away. We hung out outside of school too, and you eventually opened up to me about your past and current struggles: your parents’ divorce, your overbearing and overcritical sister, and the bullying you faced long before I ever met you. I was honored by the amount of trust you placed in me, and in turn, I told you of my rocky past filled with uncertainty and neverending court dates. Our junior year went much the same way; we filled the few classes we shared with laughter and smiles, all while strengthening the bond between us with each interaction. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit and physical interaction was no longer an option, we called and texted near-daily. I helped you push through the lows of your depression, and you did the same for me. Now that we’re both seniors, we can fret about the future together. I’m amazed at the confident person you’ve become, and you inspire me daily to write and pursue my creative passions. Our friends say that we bicker like a married couple, and although we both think it’s hilarious, I’m so thankful that we’re close enough to act that way. Before you, I never really believed in the concept of a best friend; there were only those I talked to and those I didn’t. But now that you’re in my life, I know that it’s okay to let others get closer to me. I’m so thankful for your friendship, Arden, and I hope you feel the same about me.

After nearly a year’s delay, the final court date was set for early September. Although I spent the majority of that day in an empty hallway, fiddling with my phone and whispering in hushed tones to my grandmother, the surreal terror encircling that small space never left me. When my aunt and uncle emerged from the courtroom hours later, exhausted but smiling, I knew that my custody was finally in their hands. In the blink of an eye, I had already been living with them for the better part of a year; Ninth grade came to a close before I could even finish moving in, and between handling their two young boys and raising a teenager for the first time, my aunt and uncle felt just as overwhelmed as I did. My mother, who had been a constant force in my life for as long as I could remember, was no longer present, consumed by mental illness and drug abuse. Even though her heart was still beating, she was unable to properly care for me or my little brother, who was sent an entire state away to live with his dad. This left me as the only one in my new home that knew the horrors of my past. My aunt and uncle mistook my hesitance to interact as teenage angst, and with all of us in unfamiliar territory, we fought often. My previously unchallenged hardheadedness clashed with their equally unchallenged parenting style, resulting in a never-ending loop of misunderstandings and fights. Every time I emerged from my room, I felt like I was walking on unstable ground, a perpetual earthquake beneath my feet. Eventually, this sense of seismic unrest began to impact other parts of my life. My grades didn’t show it, but school became a harder and harder burden to bear; Assignments that should have taken me minutes devoured hours of my time. As I returned home on March thirteenth of my Junior year, a Friday, I hoped that the upcoming weekend would give me the energy to continue on. Instead, I spent four months in quarantine. An introvert by nature, being locked indoors for long periods of time wasn't an issue. I missed my friends, naturally, but in that time I was able to rise from the ashes of my burnout and grow as a person. I rediscovered my passion for music and set out to fix my mangled sleep schedule; I picked up bicycling and learned to balance my workload. At the same time, my relationship with my family began to heal. Instead of isolating myself in my room, I started to play more games with my little cousins and spend more evenings in the living room. Despite the global pandemic looming over our heads, all five of us hiked every trail we stumbled across, kayaked every river we could find, and binge-watched more TV shows than I have fingers. After nearly three years and an exhausting summer of face masks and hand sanitizer, I finally felt like I was part of a family. This realization may not have instantly solved all of my problems, but with my newfound security, my family and I have started to look towards college. Even though I’ve been accepted to my dream school, we’re still trying to find the money for it. This scholarship, which I would put towards my tuition, would lift some of the financial burden from my parents and give me the financial independence I'll need later in life. As college steadily approaches, I know my future burns brighter with my parents helping me carry the torch.