Music has affected my high school experience, in large part thanks to my teachers. High school can be difficult. I was not the first and I definitely will not be the last 15-year-old to struggle with their self-esteem, but because I chose to join my school's band and choir programs, I gained a sense of community and welcoming unlike any other. I have had the opportunity, as part of my music journey in school, to participate in show choir, where I have been able to compete with students from multiple schools both within and outside of my state. I have been able to help teacher younger students to have a passion for music. I have participated in school musicals. Most recently, I have been honored to join my school's Wind Ensemble. I have learned so much about the importance of dedication and hard work, and I have had several opportunities to be able to give back through volunteer work in the community where I live in order to help the music department at my school. I was lucky enough to have educators who uplifted me and gave me a sense of purpose and belonging even when I felt I was not good enough. I truly do not think I would have stuck with it if I didn't have the incredible teachers who instilled in me a love and appreciation for music. Thanks to my participation in music programs I have made lifelong friendships, gotten to experience new and exciting things I never thought I would have before, and have discovered a confidence in myself I didn't know I had. Music has truly made me a better, stronger, more courageous, and self-assured person. I do not think I would be the person I am today if I had given up. I am so incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to learn and explore music in the ways that I have and to have teachers who made sure that our school's music department was a place where people felt like they could belong. I have become a person I never thought I would have become and that is because I chose to join my school's band and choir programs. Because of this I have discovered a new joy and appreciation for the world around me and I have found the confidence needed for me to dive headfirst into this new chapter of my life.

The Trevor Project found that 39% of LGBTQ youth seriously considered taking their own life, 46% of transgender and non-binary youth seriously considered taking their own life, transgender and non-binary youth who reported their school to be gender-affirming also reported lower rates of attempted suicide, and LGBTQ people who lived in accepting communities had less than half the rate of attempted suicide than those who lived in unaccepting communities. I came across these statistics in 8th grade while researching for a class that encouraged students to pursue a passion project, mine was to promote and raise awareness for LGBTQ acceptance at my school. That same year I lost my older sibling, Dillon, to suicide. Dillon was the second person I ever came out to, the first being our younger sibling, Hollis, I remember clear as day being on the phone with Dillon, trying my absolute hardest to not let my anxiety make me chicken out of what I was about to do. "I like girls," I choked out. Dillon didn't bat an eye, they just said that they were proud of me and that I didn't have to worry about them not accepting me because they themselves were a part of the LGBTQ community. That was when Dillon revealed to me that they were genderfluid, that they went by any pronouns, and that I could call them either Dillon or Caitlin. A weight lifted off my shoulders. I knew my family loved me, but there was still this deep-seated fear that they would turn their backs on me. From that day on Dillon was my role model. Dillon made me feel accepted, like I had a safe space to go to, like I wasn't alone. I wish Dillon would've felt the same. I have no way of knowing what was going through their head that day, the day they chose to end their life. Dillon always struggled with their mental health and they were no stranger to suicide attempts, but I don't know what was going on that day. I don't know what drove them to believe that was their only option. Maybe they didn't feel accepted. Maybe they didn't feel safe or welcome. Maybe they felt alone. I pray to God they didn't feel so alone that they thought that was the only option, because they were the reason I didn't feel alone, but I have no way of knowing. What I do know is that the person who made me feel accepted committed suicide. I think that pretty much sums up how I've been impacted.

I have experienced the best and worst of the public school system as a neurodivergent student. I, like many neurodivergent students, was a so-called "gifted kid". I excelled in school. I loved learning and I took to it quickly. My ADHD gave me the ability to look outside the box, develop unique solutions, and grasp harder subjects that my classmates couldn't, however, I struggled with all the typical problems that students with ADHD face. I had trouble switching tasks and I couldn't stay focused no matter how hard I tried. When I was six I was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and shortly after I was put on medication to help me stay focused. When given the tools I needed to be on par with my classmates I flourished. I was top of my class, loved by my teachers, and succeeded with ease. I was lifted up and encouraged by those around me. It was wonderful. Still I had this understanding that the public school system wasn't made for people like me. As long as I could be like everyone else, I would thrive, but if I had a bad day or forgot to take my meds it was a complete 180. Suddenly I was a "problem" and "lazy" and "unmotivated" and a "disruption". I felt isolated. Like no one really liked me, they just liked that I got good grades. As I got further into school that feeling intensified as this idea was pushed on us, that our self worth was determined by the grade we got and how we scored on tests. When the pandemic happened it became ubundently clear how much harder it was to succeed outside of a classroom environment. There wasn't that same perfectly currated environment, at home there were distractions everywhere. It wasn't that the work was hard but that I couldn't put focus and give it 100%. By freshmen year I was still struggling to find the same motivation that I had before the pandemic. I couldn't focus and so I just didn't try. Then the worst thing happened. During a nationwide Adderal shortage I suddenly wasn't able to get ahold of my medication. It didn't matter how hard I tried, I couldn't focus. It was even worse because I had been consistently taking it for over a decade, my mind and body couldn't handle the sudden stop. I was irritable and moody all the time and I always had headaches. I ended up failing two classes. It was a struggle to get back on track after falling so hard, but I realized I had to adapt. I started trying to take my education into my own hands. I had this natural creativity that my ADHD gave me, so I used that to try to find new ways to succeed in school. I started using that creativity everyday, to come up with new ways to remember things and study. It wasn't easy but I'm proud to say that I managed to bring my term GPA up to a 3.33 this year, and I plan to continue on this momentum. I plan on going into a career where I can hopefully use my creativity to empower and uplift me as I continue to grow. Though my big goal this year is to succeed despite the system put in place. I know it's not made for people like me, but that doesn't mean I have to conform to what's the norm. I hope to push myself to achieve new things without changing myself to fit in.

When I was starting middle school my dad told me I had to learn how to play an instrument. Our school's band program would come to all the 5th-grade classes and have us try to play different instruments. When it came time for my class I tried everything. I couldn't make a sound with any of the brass instruments, I struggled with the reeds, but when I got the flute I knew that was what I would play. It was the perfect choice, I was good at it and I already had an older sister who played the flute so my family already had a flute and a tutor available. My dad supported me more than anyone. He came to every performance he could. We made a tradition out of spending every Memorial Day attending a service held at the local cemetery where I would play in the band and then get lunch together. My dad was the most supportive. My dad was the one who encouraged me to play the flute. It's almost ironic that my dad can barely hear me play without hearing aids. Anyone who has handled firearms knows how loud they are. Anyone who has handled weapons knows how important ear protection is. My dad could tell you firsthand. After 15 years in the Marine Corps, my dad has nearly 50% hearing loss, most of which is higher frequencies. My biggest supporter doesn't show up to every concert because he likes the sound of the flute. He can't hear it. My dad shows up because it makes him happy to see his daughter doing something she loves. If that doesn't tell you everything about what kind of father he is then I don't know what will. When my friends hear that my dad is an incredibly blunt veteran who served in the Marine Corps for 15 years and rides a motorcycle they get this idea in their heads, that he's a no-nonsense guy who rules his home with an iron fist. Very strict, very tough. Most of my friends are a bit scared when they first meet him. I think he maybe likes to play it up to freak them out a bit. My friends who have known me for years know the truth, he's a big teddy bear. He loves his family more than anything, has gone out of his way to be a father figure to our friends who don't have one, and treats everyone he meets with compassion. My dad may not be the stereotypical military parent but I wouldn't change it for anything, because I have the best dad in the world.

Like many young women, I struggled with an eating disorder. Sometimes I wonder I was set up for it from the start. I first started restricting when I was 11. My entire family was overweight and struggled with the various health effects that come with such. I was and always had been underweight but I was terrified that it was fate. That I was going to be "fat". By middle school, things had gotten worse. My best friend at the time had become obsessed with dieting and fitness and we befriended a girl who ate one meal a day and always insisted that she was so upset that she couldn't gain any weight. It didn't help that I had been one of the first girls in our grade to mature. My best friends stayed the same tiny size and I gained weight. I started to believe all these awful things about myself, that the only thing that mattered about me was my weight. Looking back on middle school, I wasn't even that big, I was still underweight but that didn't matter because to me every time I was next to my friends I looked like a whale. I started bingeing and purging in an effort to lose weight. Some of my core memories of this time were my friends and I trying on crop tops and my friends telling me that maybe I should suck in my stomach and having my friends say that they couldn't imagine eating as much as I do, but I think the thing that stuck with me the most was my best friend and I weighing ourselves in the bathroom and realizing I weighed 10 pounds more than her. From that point on my goal was to weigh the same as her. I spent months torturing myself and covering up the smell of puke and when I finally lost those 10 pounds... I didn't feel any different. I still hated the way I looked, I still thought I was fat. The next two years were filled with a cycle of recoveries and relapses but I had gotten better. I thought I had. The truest thing I've ever heard is that with eating disorders you're either actively recovering or you're dying. In 8th grade everything changed. I was living through a global pandemic and I had just lost my older sibling to suicide. No one could understand how I was feeling. I didn't want to face people and act like everything was fine when they had no idea what I was going through. My solution was to stop eating. I developed anorexia. It wasn't about being skinny anymore. I wanted to disappear, to shrink as small as possible so no one could see me. Anorexia is so viciously glamourized so I'm gonna give you the brutal truth. It. Was. Hell. I could barely walk to my classes without getting light-headed and shaky. I can't describe the terror I felt wondering if I was about to pass out or collapse but being too scared to tell anyone. I couldn't hold a note during band anymore because my lung capacity had gotten so weak. I couldn't run laps in gym without having my vision blackout. I had developed asthma as a result of my lung issues. Once my blood sugar had gotten so low that my parents thought I had the flu because of the puking. I never reached out for help. Similarly, freshman year was a cycle of recovery and relapse. I was trying to get better but there's only so much you can do when you're taking medications that cause a lack of appetite. It wasn't until the beginning of sophomore year that I had confessed during our pre-homecoming dinner that I was scared of relapsing after seeing my former best friend. In that moment it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Reaching out for help was the single most scariest and bravest thing I've ever done. If I didn't I'm not sure I would've gotten through this. With the help of my friends I worked to change my mindset. My friends started taking me to lunch everyday to make sure I always had something, even if it was just a smoothie. My best friend, Kendra encourage me to change the way I thought about food and my body. I will forever be grateful to them for saving my life. I will not say that I'm better; You're either recovering or dying. I'm recovering. I'm always recovering. I'm always getting better. I'm always grateful for the body I have because I almost destroyed it. I wish I could go back in time and give myself a hug. She didn't deserve any of this, but for now, I will do the next best thing, recovering.

Writing is something that has impacted me profoundly. At nine years old I didn't know what I was experiencing was depression, but I knew there had to be words to explain what I was feeling. In my teacher's classroom she had a sign that read "Read like a writer. Write like a reader." I knew how to read, I was good at reading, the best in my class. That's when I started journaling. When I felt like I had no one else to turn to I could write about how I was feeling. When I couldn't bear the thought of saying how I felt out loud I could collect my thoughts on a page. It became my happy place, a space where I could be completely honest with myself. I guess that was how I developed what my teachers called "maturity", really it was just that I began to understand myself and that allowed me to understand the world around me. My writing became what some would call an obsession. In the time it took to get from 4th grade to 7th I completely filled five notebooks with just journally. I wrote more in one day that some of my classmates wrote in a month. When I got to 8th grade I experienced huge changes in my life. A global pandemic has happened and my older sibling suddenly took their own life. I stopped journally then. There were no susinct ideas to explain what I was feeling. That's when I fell in love with poetry, because, though clear cut phrases couldn't describe what was going on in my brain, metaphors could. I could hide myself in metaphors in way that I couldn't with journaling. I think that was exactly what I needed at this time in my life when I wanted to hide myself from everyone, but at the same time be noticed. A lot of that time for me was silent cries for help. Hoping someone notice but being to scared to ask for help. Poetry was exactly what I needed. I started writing poems and songs. I didn't have to write things that made sense, just what felt right. It was freeing for me. It was a new outlet for my lonely mind the same way poetry was. While I don't plan to pursuit a career in writing, hope that as I move into this new chapter in my life I can continue to use writing in new ways. I hope that as a pursuit cosmetology I can use my writing to inspire my art, and let my art inspire my writing. I want to use writing to encourage myself put more thought into my art. I hope to become a better artist in ways that I strive for and be more mindful of why I create art. Writing has been something hugely impactful on how I see the world. It was my first true passion. I hope to keep this passion alive as I move on the the next big thing.

I'm never sure how to tell people that my older sibling killed themself. I'm never sure how to say that this person I'd known all my life, who was my closest friend, died during one of the most formative and challenging parts of my life. Because how do you explain to someone that there's this person who has permanently shaped your life and they're not here anymore. How do I casually tell someone that the reason I'm so passionate about beauty is that the person who taught me how to apply eyeliner is dead, that the reason I express myself so heavily through makeup is that the person who introduced me to the art took their own life. "Yeah, the entire reason I am who I am is because my sibling committed suicide," isn't something you just tell people. I think the worst part is that this person who made me into who I am is someone who most of the people in my life will never get to meet, someone they will only they will only know through pictures, because by the time I'm 27 more of my life will be without them than with. So much of my life was shaped my siblings. My older sibling, Dillon, was a teenage goth, and our oldest sister, Alysse, was a pageant queen. I was always getting my nails painted and my makeup done. I was like their own personal Barbie. So much of my life was shaped by watching Dillon discover their love of drag, watching them try the most dramatic makeup and the boldest wigs, watching them experiment with their style and hair and clothes. So much of my life was shaped by siblings. So much of what self-expression means to me was formed by watching my siblings. My entire life was set into place by a passion instiled in me by my siblings. Dillon taught me everything. How to apply eyeliner and mascara, how to use eyeshadow and find the perfect shade of lipstick, how to put on false lashes and match my foundation. After they moved out we would video call and do our makeup routines together. All my life I was good at a lot of things but I was only ever great at one, because I was taught by the best. I was taught that the ways you can express yourself through makeup are endless. I was taught that my self worth doesn't equate to the way I look, but how I feel about it. I might have only ever been great at this one thing but it didn't matter because there was one person who thought I was great. Dillon's death was sudden. They had always struggled but this was sudden. They had seemed fine. I wish I would've known that they weren't. Dillon was my role model, they had showed me that it was okay struggle and that I could always reach out to someone and to stay strong. I wish they would've know that I was there for them, that I thought so highly of them, but they didn't. There are a million things I would've done differently but I know I can't change anything. Suddenly my closest friend was gone. Suddenly all the makeup they experimented with and all the bold wigs took up so much space in my room. I couldn't just let it go to waste. They had always thought I was great. I had to be great. I had to do this one thing I was great at for Dillion.

Chappell Roan has brought queer culture to the mainstream in a way that hasn't been done before. Through her love for drag as an art and the clear inspiration she takes from it to the music she puts out, she is an inspiration for queer artists everywhere. Chappel Roan has shown that songs that are expressly queer can be mainstream, that women don't have to compromise their boundaries to achieve their goals, and that being different isn't just accepted, but encouraged. It can't be stressed how important it is to have someone pushing the boundaries of what's acceptable and paving the way for future artists to follow suit. I speak from personal experience when I say that being a queer woman comes with a specific type of bigotry. There's this idea that relationships aren't legitimate if they aren't centered around a man. Chappel Roan's music subverts this in the best way, putting out authentically queer songs written by a woman, about women. It's refreshing to have queer women in the mainstream in a way that isn't fetishized and twisted for the male gaze. I don't think this is better shown than through the 2024 VMAs. Chappel Roan put on an authentic performance that felt truly spectacular, especially when looking at some of the other performances that used queer women as some sort of sexual object in a way that was very centered around men. Chappell Roan is leading the way for queer people everywhere, pushing boundaries in the music industry and pop culture and I, for one, sincerely hope she continues putting out music and doing what she's doing.