Hands shaking, the voices of my friends faded into the background as I could only focus on the emptiness inside my chest. This couldn’t be real. In disbelief, I looked down at the text confirming that my best friend Logan was dead. Startled by my friend’s voice asking “Are you okay?”, I pried my eyes away from my phone, barely aware of my surroundings. Not able to process my feelings, I was paralyzed by denial the rest of the day. My mind immediately drifted to the possibility of suicide. Having known Logan since fifth grade, I knew he struggled with depression. “Everything is okay,” he used to say with a laugh, masking deep pain behind his smile. Though we attended separate high schools, I replayed his hopeful voice in my head saying “We’re going to be together again!” after repeated promises of transferring to my school. But a later text confirmed my worst fears—he committed suicide. After a year of suppressing my sadness, my vision blurred as I found out that another best friend I'd known since 6th grade also committed suicide. This time, I was completely caught off guard—no one suspected she was struggling. I tried avoiding my feelings again, but my worried family convinced me to try therapy in hopes that I could process and heal. My therapist explained what I was experiencing—dissociation. Amid these unthinkable tragedies, I’d lost control of my body and emotions. In order to regain control, she urged me to find an outlet that I could use to express my grief, instead of keeping it inside. Dismissing her advice, I continued to go through the motions until two months later when my friend recommended that I watch Good Will Hunting. Initially, I expected the movie to be nothing more than an entertaining story used to kill time. But as I wiped tears away as Will Hunting—a genius who struggled with letting go of his childhood trauma— learned to accept that his upbringing does not define him, I found myself resonating with him. Suppressing my grief wouldn’t help me get over the hardship I faced; it would only make it harder. As the credits rolled and I came to terms with the fact that I had to find a way to face my emotions, I realized that movies have a purpose beyond entertainment. They spread powerful messages that can change lives. Cinema became my new passion. I watched a new movie every week whether it was a drama film or neo-noir. From “Parasite”'s metaphor for social class to “La La Land”'s depiction of achieving dreams, I took notes on the deeper importance of these films in the context of society. After finding the screenplay for Good Will Hunting at my local thrift store, I realized that I didn’t have to just watch movies. I could write them. Screenwriting could not only be an outlet for expressing my grief but I could also use it to shine light on larger issues like mental health. Since then, I’ve written nine screenplays, each addressing social issues. I’ve submitted to festivals like UCLA’s Open Minds Mental Health Film Festival and the Beverly Hills Film Fest. I no longer suppress the emotions that came with my friends’ death, I embrace them, using it as motivation to write and spark change. My chest swells with fulfillment as I look to my future writing to change people’s lives.