I'd say my greatest achievement is living a healthy life. Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional well being as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

As a first generation student who comes from an immigrant family, I have always known that I would have to support myself through further education. It was never up for debate, especially when any and all of my future college fund was used to pay for my medical bills. Although it’s disheartening to think about, knowing that without scholarship and grant money I would have to go into debt, I still try everyday to earn money. Growing up I was very often too sick to actually enjoy my life, and in all honesty I’m angry that I didn’t have a normal childhood. Instead I stayed in hospital beds, being fed through tubes so I wouldn’t throw up and ruin my already fragile throat with stomach acid. I cannot count the times my mother had to hold my hair back for me as a child. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. Once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. The only good thing that came from my sickness was my love for science and medicine. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. Once though, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

As a first generation student who comes from an immigrant family, I have always known that I would have to support myself through further education. It was never up for debate, especially when any and all of my future college fund was used to pay for my medical bills. Although it’s disheartening to think about, knowing that without scholarship and grant money I would have to go into debt, I still try everyday to earn money. Growing up I was very often too sick to actually enjoy my life, and in all honesty I’m angry that I didn’t have a normal childhood. Instead I stayed in hospital beds, being fed through tubes so I wouldn’t throw up and ruin my already fragile throat with stomach acid. I cannot count the times my mother had to hold my hair back for me as a child. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. Once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. Once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

My relationship with chess has changed quite a bit over the years. Chess was one of the first games my parents taught me. My dad loved the game, though nowadays he doesn’t have the time to play he still enjoys talking about it with me. The first set he bought for me was a Nintendo-themed board, which was the only way to keep me and my siblings engaged at such a young age. If I’m remembering correctly, Princess Peach and Daisy were the Queens and the Mario brothers were their Kings, and various other characters filled out the rest of the board. When I switched to an actual chess set it took me some time to understand that they were pawns and not Koopa’s. I quickly fell in love with the game very early on. As an older sibling, I started to force my younger brother to play with me when our father couldn’t, and then when I was losing to him I would change the rules on him. Then in elementary and middle school I joined my school’s chess clubs. Every week we would gather, either playing games with one another or talking strategies. It was a fun hobby, and for a while, I thought of it as just that, a hobby. So when the club director asked me to sign up for my first chess tournament I didn’t think twice. My parents drove me to the event and I sat down for my first game. I was eleven at the time, but as the games progressed my opposition got older and older. The last person I played, I remember the game very vividly, he was probably sixteen or fifteen. He shook my hand and we began. My heart raced in between moves, and sudden bouts of clarity formed as I slid my pieces across the board. Despite my loss, I loved that game. It sparked my fire for chess as a whole, so when I went home that evening and replayed that game. I wrote down where I went wrong, where he made mistakes and openings, and what I could’ve done differently. Soon I started to research different techniques and began playing against robots online to get more practice. Within the chess club, I became known for being very sneaky. Slowly cornering in my opponent by disguising my attacks as normal moves. Chess taught me not only to learn from my mistakes and build from them, but also to plan ahead and to get what I want. My strategy has spilled off of the chessboard and into my day-to-day life. Most notably when my sister and I wanted to go to a concert, I ended up going alone because I had convinced my parents over the previous month that I was responsible and capable. My sister, however, didn’t plan, and when we asked for the tickets she was given a list of chores to do beforehand which she was unable to accomplish in the timeframe given. It’s silly but that experience always reminds me of chess. I was moving my pieces subtlety throughout the game, while my sister attempted checkmate without first setting it up. To this day I still enjoy the game and play with my friends in the chess club at my school. As a pediatric nurse in the making, I hope to bring this mindset to my future career. And perhaps, teaching the next generation of children the joys of a good game of chess.

Within the Prosper Independent School District, I play a regular part in the school’s Mighty Eagle Band. I have played clarinet and bass clarinet for the past six and soon to be seven years. At the football games and every pep rally you can spot me easily, I’m the one spotlighted on the board, dancing his heart out to all the songs. Though my instrument is often overlooked and forgotten, I put energy into every note so that I stand out from the crowd. Providing entertainment and enjoyment to school events is a true and honest joy. Practice is often in between tutoring and babysitting, which I provide for my friends and my mothers friends respectively. Tutoring others, I find, is a great way to foster my own knowledge, but also is fantastic for connecting and bonding with others. Sometimes, what people need to understand difficult concepts is just to have a friend who already speaks their language. I hope I provide that for my friends. Though, I admit I’m not always the smartest, I am the one who understands how best to explain it to them. Now, babysitting has given me good experience with children. Experience in which I hope to transfer in my future career path. One time, these two girls I was watching for my mother’s work friend, they refused to fall asleep now matter what I did. I tried everything I could think of, warm milk, lullabies, I even put on a baseball game in order to bore them to sleep. I was exhausted and what turned out to work by the end of the night was just simply scratching the back of their heads gently while humming. Looking back, I really love that memory. They both looked so sweet and peaceful, it made the previous tries more than worth it. During the Black Lives Matter protests in Dallas, I brought food, water, and medical supplies to the protestors. During the summer months, I donated my babysitting and tutoring money to BLM-specific charities and fundraisers. Although I could not join the protestors myself due to health complications, I felt a duty to come and at least support in any way I could. It was something I could do. Though my support was but a small contribution compared to the entire movement, it was leagues better than doing nothing. In short, I do my best to aid my community in whatever ways I can. It’s difficult to manage my academics as well as my community service, but I find it’s not about time management but about perspective. Sometimes, it’s alright to put homework aside for a bit if it’s to help someone else. It’s all about balance really, much like the rest of life. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help my community by helping the next generation. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would sob over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. Once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory. Sadly I don't know the kind nurse and have no feasible means of contacting her, but I hope I can carry the good will she gave me to other children in my situation.

A quick look into my room and it’s evident that I’m obsessed with The Nightmare Before Christmas. I have posters, drawings, toys, socks, even themed wax warmers all dedicated to the movie. It’s become such an integral aspect of my life that whenever I get any gifts there's about a 100% chance it’ll be from the movie, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love every one of them. The entire season from the start of October to the end of December, you’ll find me rewatching the movie and singing along to all of the songs. I’ve loved this movie for as long as I can remember, even my childhood Halloween pictures are filled with Jack Skellington and Oogie Boogie costumes. I don’t remember watching it for the first time, as I was so young, but my mother likes to tell me how in awe I was when I first saw it. Whenever I had to stay in the hospital overnight, she always made sure to put a copy of the movie in my overnight bag. I apparently would watch it to put myself to sleep as a form of comforting myself, which considering how uncomfortable hospital beds can be it makes sense. Something about watching Jack rediscover his love for Halloween helped me escape and forget the world around me. To this day, I regard it as a cinematic masterpiece. It can make me cheer up from anything, and bring me to tears after watching it a million times. I am so grateful for everything it’s given me, and I hope that other people can see the same magic in it that I do.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

“What is a legacy?" My father took me to go watch Hamilton with him in Washington DC. He was living there and decided to fly me out so I could watch the show. I hadn’t seen him in some years, and our communication was left at the daily text of a fake cheery ‘good morning’. When my mother told me he wanted me to go spend a week with him I was more than a little stunned. Still, I was excited to finally spend some time with my father, completely unaware of the surprise he had planned. My mother had told him how I would listen to the musical’s soundtrack nearly every day. He just wanted to connect after so long of being out of my life, and this was his solution. Before he left, my father was very involved in my life. He was my soccer coach for almost 8 years, he helped me with homework, and he let me indulge in my passions. But he wasn’t as good a father to my siblings as he was to me. He made it no secret that I was his favorite child, and had no issues with treating me differently. Where my brother would get scolded, I was praised. When my sister was yelled at, I would be sat down and talked to. As a young child, I noticed the double standards, but I didn’t say anything for fear of losing my place as his favorite. When my father left us, he sat me down with him and explained why. He gave me excuse after excuse while I begged him not to leave. I was the only person he bothered to say goodbye to. In all honesty, I sometimes wish he didn’t tell me beforehand. I wish I could be like my siblings and mother, confused as to where he had gone and why. I wish I didn’t have to stand there and watch him drive away without me. I wish I didn’t have to cry because my father looked me in the eyes and said he was never going to see me again. I stepped off the plane, alone, and waited for him by baggage claim. We spend the week catching up, sightseeing, and watching Hamilton. I’m a transgender boy, but he insisted on dressing me up and doing my hair for the show. I was so happy to be with him I barely argued. I was uncomfortable and dysphoric the entire show, I couldn't enjoy my time. When I told him I couldn’t focus, my father yelled at me in front of the other audience members. I think this was the first time I admitted to myself he wasn’t a good man. "It’s planting seeds in a garden you don’t get to see.” My greatest goal in life is to become a good father. My mother can attest to this when I told her I wanted kids for the first time I was seven years old myself. She says I’ve always had a nurturing instinct, and that I would become a great father. It’s hard to imagine my future life without children to call my own. But every day I question if I can ever fulfill my dream. I worry that I might pick favorites, or let my anger take a hold of me, or if one day I will abandon my children. I worry if I’ll become my father. It’s not uncommon for children to develop the same or similar parenting styles they were raised with. If you were abused, you will likely in turn abuse your child. So doesn’t it stand to reason, in my mind at least, that I might leave my future family behind? I try not to go down that line of thinking, and instead of looking to my father, I look to my mother. Raising three children by herself, she always makes a point of treating me equally, which has helped to repair my and my siblings' relationship. And while she does make mistakes from time to time, her kind and loving nature have healed many of the sore wounds our father made. That night my father left my mother let me sleep in her bed, she held me and told me everything was going to be okay. She was the one who picked up the broken pieces of me. I don’t think she understands that I can only wish to become half as good of a parent as she is.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, also known as gastrointestinal perforation. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back, causing my illness to only worsened over the years. My clearest memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up. After I had my surgery to repair my stomach I began to gain weight very quickly, which my family members commented on almost daily, slowly but surely making me believe I was better when I was sick. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. It took me years to fully realize what I was going through, and even longer to begin recovery. There was no single triggering event that shock me, simply slow understanding my situation. With restrictive eating disorders, actively trying to break out of the cycle almost always makes the cycle more intense. This can send the victim into a worse mental state than before. But at the end of the day, taking care of oneself may be difficult, but it incredibly important. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. However everyday I fight against my disordered eating thoughts, and though I don't always win, I know I will win the war itself.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, gastrointestinal perforation specifically. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It only worsened over the years. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. My memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up or when I sat quietly as they ate because I knew I couldn’t handle the car ride home. I clearly remember my first meal at a restaurant in years. It was a plate of alfredo pasta at Olive Garden. It was after my surgery to repair my stomach lining, but it was still a struggle to keep down. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories I hold of my life have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. I would cry over the idea of eating a full meal. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. My therapist believes this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal. But once, I remember a very kind nurse who brought me a purple bunny doll I still have today. She explained what was wrong in a way I, an eight-year-old, understood and that she was going to help heal me. After I woke up from surgery, that same nurse watched over me and helped me recover. Her kind words and sweet demeanor made it much easier for me to feel comfortable in my hospital room. The procedure also opened up my life. Ever since I have been able to eat, run, play, and live my life without worry. Soccer, marching band, even going on daily walks are all luxuries I’m not sure I would be able to enjoy if I didn’t have my surgery. My mother saved the bunny, and whenever I feel ill she makes sure I have him. It reminds me of that kind nurse and how excited I was to keep food down. My current goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the same way I was. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being an adult they can look too. A kind-hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional wellbeing as well as their physical health so that they may have the ability to grow and their sick childhood is nothing but a distant memory.

Within the Prosper Independent School District, I play a regular part in the school’s Mighty Eagle Band. I have played clarinet and bass clarinet for the past six and soon to be seven years. At the football games and every pep rally you can spot me easily, I’m the one spotlighted on the board, dancing his heart out to all the songs. Though my instrument is often overlooked and forgotten, I put energy into every note so that I stand out from the crowd. Providing entertainment and enjoyment to school events is a true and honest joy. Practice is often in between tutoring and babysitting, which I provide for my friends and my mothers friends respectively. Tutoring others, I find, is a great way to foster my own knowledge, but also is fantastic for connecting and bonding with others. Sometimes, what people need to understand difficult concepts is just to have a friend who already speaks their language. I hope I provide that for my friends. Though, I admit I’m not always the smartest, I am the one who understands how best to explain it to them. Now, babysitting has given me good experience with children. Experience in which I hope to transfer in my future career path. One time, these two girls I was watching for my mother’s work friend, they refused to fall asleep now matter what I did. I tried everything I could think of, warm milk, lullabies, I even put on a baseball game in order to bore them to sleep. I was exhausted and what turned out to work by the end of the night was just simply scratching the back of their heads gently while humming. Looking back, I really love that memory. They both looked so sweet and peaceful, it made the previous tries more than worth it. During the Black Lives Matter protests in Dallas, I brought food, water, and medical supplies to the protestors. During the summer months, I donated my babysitting and tutoring money to BLM-specific charities and fundraisers. Although I could not join the protestors myself due to health complications, I felt a duty to come and at least support in any way I could. It was something I could do. Though my support was but a small contribution compared to the entire movement, it was leagues better than doing nothing. In short, I do my best to aid my community in whatever ways I can. It’s difficult to manage my academics as well as my community service, but I find it’s not about time management but about perspective. Sometimes, it’s alright to put homework aside for a bit if it’s to help someone else. It’s all about balance really, much like the rest of life. To keep sane, you must keep yourself in touch with yourself and those around you. I do this by, for one, working within my community and spending a lot of my time helping in whatever way I can. It fulfils me in a way that simply nothing else can. But at the end of the day I take time to myself, for myself, in order to help myself. While community is important to me and always will be, I feel like many people prioritize others over themselves too much.

Growing up, I was a sick child. I had a hole in my stomach lining, also known as gastrointestinal perforation. My illness made it incredibly difficult, near impossible, for me to keep food down. It caused me to miss school, ruin my throat with stomach acid, and made a significant impact on my current mental health. After my father left, we had less money to put towards my medicine and my eventual surgery, so we had to push the procedure back, causing my illness to only worsened over the years. My clearest memories of my childhood are only me being taken to the hospital first thing in the morning, and the countless times my family members would hold my hair back as I threw up. After I had my surgery to repair my stomach I began to gain weight very quickly, which my family members commented on almost daily. As a young adult, these experiences and the memories have shaped my relationship with food immensely. I’ve struggled with multiple diagnosed eating disorders, the most prevalent being bulimia nervosa. When I binged, it was only a matter of time before that food came back up. I and my therapist believe this is a direct result of my childhood, and over the years we have been working to get me to see food in a far more healthy way. I am proud to say that I have been in recovery for three years now. While sometimes I’ll feel the urge to fall back into old habits, and sometimes I do fall, in the end, I always get back on the track to a happier and healthier way of life. Within my friend group of other kids in eating disorder recovery we all do our best not only to keep on track but to also help one another. It’s hard to accurately explain my relationship with food and my health, especially since it’s never been normal.

“Drive on the defensive,” that’s what my mom said over and over again as I was learning to get my driver’s licence. One time I counted and she had said it 8 times during one trip. That broken record of a phrase has stuck in my head, and now every time I buckle in it rings in my head. It’s a reminder that not everyone is aware while behind the wheel. People grab their phones, talk to people in their back seat, or simply overlook life saving details. This has actually created a really huge fear in me. The thought that one day someone might crash into me because of a preventable oversight paralyzed me with fear for years. I didn’t want to go on long drives or have my friends drive me places instead of my parents. Some days my fears got so intense that getting into a car at all would send me into a panic. My parents would either leave me home or drag me into the car like a toddler. Needless to say it was humiliating. This wasn’t the normal anxiety that many of my peers were going through, it bordered on a full blown phobia of driving and being in cars. It goes by multiple names, amaxophobia, ochophobia, motorphobia, or hamaxophobia. I’m not sure where exactly this intense fear stemmed from, but I know that other people’s unsafe driving habits were a huge factor for me. I felt like I could never get my license, my fears just simply weren’t going to let it happen. When my friends were getting their permits and licenses I could feel myself falling behind, and I desperately wanted to catch up but I didn’t see how I could. Despite my fears I knew that to live a full life I would have to learn to drive. Sadly for a while it was nothing but a fantasy for a long while. When I told my friends and family that I wanted to get over my fears and learn to drive, we put together a plan. First I would learn and review safe driving habits and road laws everyday, like I was studying for a final exam. Then when I could recite them by wrote, I was to sit in the passenger’s seat as my friends would drive around my neighborhood. After a few months I was able to sit behind the wheel and move the car out of the driveway. Every week or so I would be encouraged to get more comfortable with cars. Of course, I still had setbacks and panic attacks, but I still did my best to push myself. When I was doing test driving the most comforting thing was the fact that I knew many ways to keep myself safe while on the road. Today, I use this experience to help teach other anxious teenagers with their driving. I am currently trying to become a counselor for other teenagers who are facing the same fears I did, and to educate teenage drivers on safe driving habits. I help them by explaining in simplistic and easy to remember tips, my favorite being the one my mother engraved in me. “Drive on the defensive.”

My relationship with chess has changed quite a bit over the years. Chess was one of the first games my parents taught me. My dad loved the game, though nowadays he doesn’t have the time to play he still enjoys talking about it with me. The first set he bought for me was a Nintendo-themed board, which was the only way to keep me and my siblings engaged at such a young age. If I’m remembering correctly, Princess Peach and Daisy were the Queens and the Mario brothers were their Kings, and various other characters filled out the rest of the board. When I switched to an actual chess set it took me some time to understand that they were pawns and not Koopas. I quickly fell in love with the game very early on. As an older sibling, I started to force my younger brother to play with me when our father couldn’t, and then when I was losing to him I would change the rules on him. Then in elementary and middle school I joined my school’s chess clubs. Every week we would gather, either playing games with one another or talking strategies. It was a fun hobby, and for a while, I thought of it as just that, a hobby. So when the club director asked me to sign up for my first chess tournament I didn’t think twice. My parents drove me to the event and I sat down for my first game. I was eleven at the time, but as the games progressed my opposition got older and older. The last person I played, I remember the game very vividly, he was probably sixteen or fifteen. He shook my hand and we began. My heart raced in between moves, and sudden bouts of clarity formed as I slid my pieces across the board. Despite my loss, I loved that game. It sparked my fire for chess as a whole, so when I went home that evening and replayed that game. I wrote down where I went wrong, where he made mistakes and openings, and what I could’ve done differently. Soon I started to research different techniques and began playing against robots online to get more practice. Within the chess club, I became known for being very sneaky. Slowly cornering in my opponent by disguising my attacks as normal moves. Chess taught me not only to learn from my mistakes and build from them, but also to plan ahead and to get what I want. My strategy has spilled off of the chessboard and into my day-to-day life. Most notably when my sister and I wanted to go to a concert, I ended up going alone because I had convinced my parents over the previous month that I was responsible and capable. My sister, however, didn’t plan, and when we asked for the tickets she was given a list of chores to do beforehand which she was unable to accomplish in the time frame given. It’s silly but that experience always reminds me of chess. I was moving my pieces subtlety throughout the game, while my sister attempted checkmate without first setting it up. To this day I still enjoy the game and play with my friends in the chess club at my school. As a pediatric nurse in the making, I hope to bring this mindset to my future career. And perhaps, teaching the next generation of children the joys of a good game of chess.

Growing up in the wrong body is worse than it sounds. My entire life I’ve felt like something was wrong. Up until relatively recently when I realized why that is. Every unexplained childhood dream of becoming a father or when I felt wonderful sparks of pure joy whenever people told me my voice was deep. Looking back on it, there were half a million signs just like those that I should’ve noticed. The worst of it came during puberty. I hated how my body was developing so much I starved it till I couldn’t any longer. I covered up my body with big baggy clothes so that no one could see me, and I never spoke. I don’t remember exactly why, but I think it’s because I was ashamed that my voice wasn’t deepening like the other boys. It took me many years before I realized who I am, and unfortunately, it was too late to reverse a lot of things. Looking back, I wish I had gone on hormone blockers to delay puberty, start my social transition earlier, and hopefully learned to love myself and the body I was born with. My goal in life is to become a pediatric nurse and help little kids in the way I wish I had been helped. As a pediatric nurse, I hope to help children like me. Not just helping heal broken bones or giving them cold medicine, but by being someone they can look to. A kind hearted individual whom they can rely on for their emotional well being as well as their physical health. Maybe answer their questions about transitioning and guide them down a path towards happiness. If I can change just one little kid's life, I will die a happy man.

I would love to go into the medical field and study nursing in my coming years, specifically pediatric nursing. Throughout my entire life I have always felt an instinctual urge, almost need to take care of children. My mother always tells me about how when my younger brother was born I took it upon myself to take care of him, despite being a little more than a year older than him. I insisted on feeding him, getting him dressed in the morning, even helping to teach him to walk, even though I had just gotten the hang of it myself. Currently, I babysit and tutor my nieces, nephews, and a few kids from my neighborhood. With each of them I get such a feeling of fulfillment and joy before I leave. It is truly a gift to be able to help shape and mold the future generation; one gift I hope to receive as an adult by taking care of them. Kids get injured so easily and it’s up to their doctors and nurses to take care of them, which I believe to be a wonderful career path. The medical field has always been a dream of mine, and pediatric nursing would allow me to combine my love of taking care of kids with it.

Having played my instrument for over half a decade, I have grown quite attached to my music. Bass clarinets aren't a very common instrument, people rarely choose it over a soprano clarinet, but those who do are always happy with their choice, myself especially. My high lung capacity and natural inclination to play intense and bombastic music are perfect for my bass. But the instrument doesn't just fit me perfectly, it helped me expand both musically and in my relationships. More lyrical and soft music used to leave me angry and annoyed. I disliked that with soprano clarinets, classical pieces like those are focused on technical skill, ie your fingers speed, your retention of complex rhythms, and a soft tongue. It was agonizing having to play the music, and it wasn't until I switched I got to play those same pieces but written not for the melody, but the bass. The low notes that resonate throughout the auditorium shook me to my core. My harsher and more acute tongue was perfect for keeping the music from becoming muddled. I got to play to my strengths while supporting the rest of the band. In my own life, I cannot count how many relationships I ruined early in life. I didn't understand why at the time, but my clarinet helped me understand. I don't do well with things that are, at least in my mind, slow but complicated. I prefer things that are intense, quick but have a clear and concise way of working. This meant that every time complicated social convention or needless small talk reared its ugly head, it was only time before I got annoyed with it. Unfortunately, not a lot of my friends liked this. They wanted me to be just as social as them, but every time I tried I only snapped at them for small things, displacing my anger at the situation onto them. Once I realized this, I made a conscious effort to make more friends with people who saw eye to eye with me. Other people wanted to skip past the introductions and didn't want to play mental mind games to avoid talking about their feelings. Unsurprisingly, almost all of them were also musicians who played low instruments. This system of finding like-minded people has greatly increased my day to day mood, and it's even better when we all come together to practice.