I live for connection. The most valuable resource I could have is relationship. I have always been a social butterfly. Even as a baby I made friends everywhere I went. At grocery stores, my mother could count on a conversation with a stranger about how smiley I was or how chubby my feet were. Though I no longer fit in a grocery cart, I am the same outgoing kid. Now, though, my amiability goes further. I use it to care for strangers' children, serve in other countries, and connect with refugees. My mom would call this skill hospitality. I call it optimism. Optimism in my ability to change the world through relationship. I have seen change happen, time and time again because of compassion and genuine care. I believe that close-knit community is the key to changing the world. For example, a friend who escaped persecution in his country and had to leave his family to seek asylum in the US. He stayed with people who had never met him and didn't speak his language. Though he was sad and afraid he began attending our church. A network formed, providing job opportunities, legal assistance, and friendship. After months of battling the legal system so that his family could join him, his wife and son have finally arrived. I have gotten to see firsthand the ways a loving community can change lives. Now, I want to take that optimism with me. I am about to leave home and enter a much bigger world. I know it will be easy to lose hope, but I have personally seen the ways that simple connections can create much bigger effects on the world. I know that there is hope to be found in friendship and I intend to use that hope for good.

Though art isn't the only avenue through which I support my community, it has been the most impactful to me. My interest in art began at a very young age when I discovered that it was an incredible outlet that allowed me to manage my mental health and express myself. As a child with a panic disorder, I wasn't always able to express myself verbally, and in those times art was a valuable way for me to communicate. Now, it has grown beyond a coping mechanism into a great passion. Because I have seen firsthand the practical uses of art for personal and mental benefit, I am seeking new ways to bring that same revelation to other people. It would be an incredible gift to show my community the ways an often undervalued craft could create a better world. I still create art meant to express my emotions and release my anxiety. It's still something I use to self-regulate and manage my mental health. Now, though, my art isn't always just for me. It's also for every other person questioning whether they need help. For every person wondering if anyone else knows what they feel. It's for the people who don't think they have control. My goal with this type of art is to show those people that they are understood, capable of healing, and in good company. Still, making this art isn't enough. I need to find ways to get it out into the world. This is why I am hellbent on getting to art school. I know that art school is the best place for me because of my limitless passion and willingness to learn. I couldn't be more excited to go somewhere that exposes me to many different types of expression and teaches me to communicate with people through my art. Still, college isn't for a while. In the meantime, I'm finding other ways to engage with my community and bring the wonders of art to the people around me. I am part of my high school's National Honor Society, and the president of our National Art Honor Society. NAHS is particularly close to my heart because my interest in it began in middle school when I joined the National Junior Art Honor Society. Before I was ever the leader of my favorite club, I was sitting quietly in the back, learning how to plan, prepare, and execute events and exhibitions that would bring our collective passion for visual art to the public. Today, I am ecstatic to be planning and leading these events myself. Just this year, we have participated in gallery displays, "Paint and Sip" events, tie-dye activities, creating art for residents of retirement homes, planning group field trips, and hosting a Halloween-themed exhibit and interactive production. Beyond our formal events, I am so grateful to be leading the group of artists that make up NAHS. They are such creative, innovative, hardworking people, and I can only hope that I am doing the same type of good for them that so many artists before did for me. I hope that I can inspire a long-lasting passion in them for art and all the good it can do. Through this endeavor, I have gained skills like communication, organization, money management, planning, and boundary maintenance that I know will be valuable to me as I continue my work in the future. When I am somewhere big and loud and diverse, I will still remember my work with my peers here at my high school, and I will be endlessly grateful for all of the things I learned.

I've been a creator for as long as I can remember. I started making art and music as coping mechanisms for when I felt out of control and anxious. Soon, though, it was much more than that. It became a hobby, then a passion, then a lens I saw the world through. There has been nothing in my life more freeing and thrilling than learning how to express myself through art and music. When I played clarinet for seven years in my school's band, I found myself frequently choked up after playing a particularly beautiful piece for the first time. Concerts often left me in tears. I learned to play the ukulele with my dad, and I am currently teaching myself to play guitar-- two endeavors that have been equally emotionally exhausting and rewarding. I want to go to art school to learn everything I can about how best to apply my artistic passion for the good of others. Art school is so important to me because I believe art and music are severely underestimated as vehicles of social change. Sometimes it is most effective to connect with others, not through language, logic, or numbers, but shared emotional experiences, and for many people, there is nothing more emotional than the experience of art and music. A passionately played song will bring a room to tears. An emotionally charged painting will stick for years in the minds of its viewers. Artists have the power to make emotional impacts that aren't possible anywhere else. Art is a common thread among all of humanity. Every culture, every country, every era has its own issues. And the struggles of millions of people throughout time and space are connected by one common thread-- the practices of art and music. I believe that art and music are valuable tools for young people everywhere to explore. I believe they have the great potential to aid in emotional health, especially in children. For example, I have a panic disorder, which often makes me feel helpless, hopeless, and stuck. When I feel those things, I turn to art because I know that creating something beautiful will help me out of a rut. When I am emotionally lost, I often write songs and poems to express and ground myself. Playing a simple piece of music often helps me to remember that I have control. I think it is a grave mistake to discredit the potential of art and music in creating a better world. It's a true shame that the studies of art and music seem frivolous to some when they have played such an instrumental role in documenting centuries past. Without art and music, we would not have the lively, colorful, ever-changing world we live in today. It must also be acknowledged that art and music have the incredible potential to help people learn to know and express themselves. I think that in the future, with enough passionate, ambitious, and creative people, we can use music and art to build a healthier, more sustainable future.

When I was sixteen, I was diagnosed with a panic disorder. I had been having panic attacks for as long as I could remember, but never believed the issue was legitimate enough to warrant asking for help. I finally realized my experience was not normal after a panic attack that lasted 72 hours and left me incapable of movement for days afterwards. For months, I felt like my body was trying to kill me. I isolated myself for weeks at a time because I knew an attack could come on at any moment, and I didn't want to subject anyone else to the experience. I felt like a victim of my anxiety. Eventually, I started a type of therapy called neurofeedback, a big part of which was meant to show me that I had the power to train my brain and my body to stay calm. I began to learn that neither my body nor my mind were enemies, but that I had control over them and not the other way around. The feeling of hopelessness that came from my anxiety subsided drastically when I realized I had power over my emotions. Realizing I wasn't helpless in the face of panic and pain improved my quality of life more than I could ever communicate. I regained my previous passions for learning and art, and each of my relationships became healthier than ever. Now, I can allow myself to dream big because I know that my anxiety doesn't hold power over me-- I hold power over it. I can go where I want and do what I want because I am my own person. Not broken, not helpless, just me. I learned that I had control, and it's a lesson that serves me every day.

I was raised in a home that valued honesty, empathy, and vulnerability above all. I grew up knowing that my sensitivity and creativity were gifts. My parents taught me that no matter what I ended up doing in my life, my talent for connecting with others would get me far. When I discovered a deep love for art, I knew that I could use my passion for the good of others. I use my art to communicate generally uncomfortable experiences. I delve into things like fear, trauma, panic, sadness, shame, and jealousy in order to create a sense of vulnerability. For me, the purpose of art isn't just to make beautiful things for people to enjoy, but also to show others that they are not alone in their experiences of the world. I really think that by being vulnerable through my art, I can make others feel more comfortable with themselves and their emotions. In the future, I want to use my creativity to communicate, connect, and empathize with people everywhere. I want my legacy to be one of vulnerability and sensitivity. I want to live a life full of honest communication and connection. I want to be a figure of empathy to the people around me, and I want to show others that they are seen and supported. When I'm gone, I want people to remember that I was not afraid to be honest, open, and empathetic with everyone I met.

Vincent van Gogh has been an artistic inspiration to millions of people, so to say that his work has affected me deeply may seem unoriginal. However, when I say that van Gogh's art speaks to me I don't just mean that I find it entertaining, but that I feel deeply connected to his story and his motivations. Van Gogh's manic compulsion to create, desire for human connection, and struggle with mental illness are all things I can relate to. My favorite of his works is The Bedroom. I love this series of paintings of his small room in the Yellow House because of the pure emotion put into each. Through the minute changes in his technique, you begin to feel out a story. The placement of the bed, chair, and nightstand seem to be constants, as well as the smaller details of the table's contents. However, as the series progresses, you can see a change in van Gogh's message. Things seem to become more severe and distorted. The room no longer feels comforting but claustrophobic. You can sense that van Gogh is unraveling just by looking at his surroundings. I love this because I can relate. I know how much an external environment can affect an internal one and vice versa. It seems obvious to me that through his work van Gogh was crying out for help. Experiencing his art makes me feel understood, however cheesy that may sound. And though I know his ending was tragic, it's sort of beautiful to see someone express the same emotions as me, especially in a medium I am so fond of. Through his paintings, van Gogh tells me that it's okay to evolve and to feel deeply, and I do.