As our world changes, our ways of connection adapt as well in a lot of ways. For the first time, we can connect with those in other places in the world and in other communities with ease. We have more access to diversity in our connections now than we ever have before. Humans are inherently social creatures; from the dawn of our existence, we have been connected with one another. It was a survival skill: safety in numbers. We undervalue all types of connections in this modern age. From friendships to romantic partners to family, we have been taught to prioritize work and school over our relationships with others. The evolution of social media emphasizes this. We are taught to value our image over being vulnerable with those around us. It's not easy to instill mass amounts of change in a society that feels so comfortable with staying in the same habits. But there are many ways to influence those around us who may be struggling to connect with others. The development of easily accessible media has actually done a lot in terms of connecting on a more societal level. Cinemas became a popular way for all types of people to spend time with each other, doing an activity. We even do it at home, movie nights being a lower-cost option. Radios and streaming services allow us to find and share music we like with others. Local newspapers help us to stay informed about our closer community so we can foster it in the ways it needs. Entertainment is not just a form of fun but is a direct form of influence on those who consume it. This leaves a lot of room to start change through things like film, literature, and music. This can be used for both good and bad. I love film as a form of storytelling; much of my childhood was influenced by shows and movies I watched. I learned so much about myself through the media I consumed. It also opened up ways to connect with others. Some of my best friends I've met through mutual enjoyment of a band or show. I've started to find myself disappointed with the diversity and representation in film and TV. I believe we should live in a world where everybody gets the chance to be on screen. The more we know about the neighbors who are different from us, the more we can understand and connect with them. I know that we have the ability to be more inclusive; we've proved it before with many pieces of media. But there aren't enough people in the TV and film industry with a passion for diversity. Money often overshadows what's really important. Many view the industry as a business rather than a form of storytelling and connection. If we have to evolve the way we connect, we also must change what we're consuming. If the only films being shown to us are poorly written money grabs, of course we won't feel satisfied with the emotions they provide us. They're feeding us what's most digestible to the masses, and that's not a good thing. We are at a pivotal point of change in this country. It's undeniable. We're starting to question what we've been told about capitalism and society. We're critically thinking and realizing what's happening is wrong and inhumane. So how do we promote change? How does it even relate to our connections with others? Why is any of this important at all? Because we're not meant to live like this, we've been brainwashed into thinking that being so isolated is normal. None of this can be reversed overnight; it has to be introduced slowly. And what better way to do that than with stories on the big screen? It starts with how we represent those in media. It starts with the choice to write stories that are diverse. It starts with casting more marginalized people. It starts with showing that those who are different are just as worthy. To really connect to our community and those in it, we must be willing to do that with our media as well. This is the energy I intend to carry to college and through the rest of my life as I work to become a screenwriter who sees the value in all types of stories.

I've always been anxious, even as a kid. I was labeled as sensitive and nervous by my teachers, and I struggled to socialize with my peers. I received my anxiety diagnosis at just eight years old, my later elementary school years plagued by panic attacks. A year earlier I had experienced my first major trauma in a major illness and a seizure. That was the catalyst for most of my future issues. Depression rolled in not long after that; I had a genetic predisposition for it, with both of my parents struggling with severe depression at multiple points in their lives. I was miserable already, and then quarantine started. By 2021, I was incredibly suicidal. I had started physically self-harming. I felt so alone; I had nobody to talk to and never saw my struggles in others or in media. I was locked in my room for months, completely isolated. I had no desire to be alive. Every night when I went to bed, I prayed that I wouldn't wake up. I ended up on medication after admitting to my mom how much I wanted to die. I was given citalopram because it was the only antidepressant that came in a liquid form, and I couldn't take pills yet. It tasted like expired mouthwash, but it worked. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. The medication was not the end-all of my depression or anxiety. It wasn't a cure, but it gave me the boost to try and live. And thanks to how bad it tasted, I also learned to swallow pills. Two birds, one stone! I was only suicidal about half of the time thanks to the meds. As bleak as that sounds, it was a big step up from where I was. I continued to struggle with suicidal thoughts and ideation through high school. I've been through a lot of trauma since I was fourteen, much worse than anything I could have ever imagined. My biggest mental health challenge since then came right after my eighteenth birthday. In May of 2025 I was groomed and raped by someone much older than me. I developed PTSD from the situation, which had a severe impact on my life. Sometimes, I reflect back to the first three months after my assault and remember how broken I was. How unloved and lonely I felt. I didn't think I'd live to see the end of the summer. I was having disturbing intrusive thoughts and was struggling to find how to live with such a severe trauma. There wasn't a eureka moment in my recovery this time. It was slow and subtle. Each day got a little easier, even if they still felt hard. I had to take my time. There wasn't a pill I could take to fix this. This was also the recovery I experienced the most setbacks in. I was broken up with, and I lost friends and family. I was feeling unsure of my path, struggling to balance community college with my mental health. I was physically assaulted by someone I trusted in October, which induced new PTSD flashbacks. In December I started writing again, a hobby I loved for many years that ended up being one of the things I abandoned with my struggles. This was one of the best descions I have ever made. It breathed life back into me. I was spending all my free hours on my laptop, writing. Scripts, poems, and practice prompts. I was doing it all and enjoying every minute of it, but I found myself drawn back to scriptwriting, which I took a class for in high school. I was back in my body, the dissociation I experienced from my PTSD finally breaking. I finally started seeing myself in the mirror again. Not a survivor, not a victim, but me. It was that moment I knew this was my path. Telling stories, ones like mine, is my calling. I withdrew from community college, instead taking a gap year to set myself up for film school. As silly as it sounds, the way I'm continuing to pursue recovery is through this education and through my writing. My journey with mental health has taught me so much resilience. As terrible as it may be, I wouldn't be who I am today without the things I've gone through. My story is what makes me unique. But my mental health experiences aren't. So many people have been through the same things as me. I want more people to know they aren't alone, which I intend to do through my future career in film. The more representation there is, the more awareness is raised for those struggling. The more we know, the more we can help those around us.

I have struggled with my health for a long time now. I live in an area known for poor healthcare and have had trouble obtaining proper diagnoses and treatments my whole life. I got really sick when I was younger, which left me with postviral gastroparesis. This was not diagnosed for eleven years despite frequent complaints of nausea. I've been telling stories for years; ever since I could talk, I've been creating. Art, music, writing, anything that gave me a storytelling device. I always found myself drawn to the creatives. Even when my health started to decline more with frequent joint pain and shoulder subluxations that point to EDS, I continued to create. I write until my fingers cramp, and under my eyes are sore from staring at my computer. I hunch over collage pieces until my back aches. And I love doing it. If I were offered a million dollars and a clean bill of health if I never pursued my creative dreams, I would refuse without a second thought. My purpose is art, specifically through film and TV. I'm financing college completely on my own. I write essays late into the night and wake up early to work on personal projects. My resilience is directly tied to my creativity; my art is how I combat how scary some days feel when my symptoms get bad. My path is long and hard, the barriers of my health sometimes making it feel pointless and impossible. I want the world to be a safer space for chronically ill people. We deserve kindness and acceptance like everybody else. We may need more accommodations, but that doesn't make us any less worthy of representation. I was raised independently, and now there are certain things I can't do for myself or that I need help with. Part of my process with resilience is knowing when I need help. I did all of my college applications by myself because I decided I wanted to go to school. On the other hand, I can't open most jam jars on my own because my hands aren't very strong. The comparison makes me laugh sometimes. My life looks different to my friends and peers. I can't work certain jobs since I can't be on my feet for very long. I get winded easily and risk pain with many activities. I have to sit down and take more breaks than most people my age. I have to tape my shoulders to keep them from slipping out. I have to pay extra money for migraine rescue medications. I have to drive far to get to good doctors who will listen to my concerns. I've had to learn to adapt to the world while we fight for the world to try adapting to us. The more often people with chronic illness are represented in different career fields and in popular media, the more education can happen. I can't remember the last time I woke up feeling one hundred percent. But, no matter how bad I'm feeling, I continue to pursue my goals and dreams as a filmmaker. I understand the importance of what I'm trying to do, so I will keep doing it no matter what.

My father served in the military long before I was born, but he carried the skills he learned there and taught me the ones he found important. My dad is a business owner, with my mom working alongside him for most of my childhood. While I am not pursuing a degree in business, the lessons my dad has taught me in relation to my education and future career are ones that I will carry with me. My dad taught me a lot about patience, that you have to hone your skills and become good at what you do. He always reminds me that I can do anything I set my mind to if I put in the work. My father has a successful window business. My dad has always been a very self-reflective man, and he's raised me to be the same way. I take my time to reevaluate situations and projects if they don't work the first time; he's helped me mitigate frustration when in the process of learning new skills and new methods to do things. My dad is very independent due to his construction skills. I've seen him do everything from building a fence to completely remodeling our bathroom and kitchen, all on his own. I picked this up from him; I've been teaching myself new skills from a young age. I did all of my college applications and requirements because I decided I wanted to go to school. I'm not completely self-sufficient yet, but I hope to be soon. I'm in the process of financing my education; my parents are successful, but we did struggle when I was younger. We've only been debt-free for a few years. We sit dead center middle class now, but I grew up on the principles of a low-income family. I was taught to be aware of my spending and to be resourceful with my money. We always shopped at discount stores, and most of my closet came from hand-me-downs. When I received my first college acceptance with half of my expenses paid for, I knew I needed to find a way to send myself to school. Both of my parents taught me the value of being able to critically think, which has been vital in my college process. I've been able to evaluate where I sit in terms of my career and education. My dreams are big, bold, and risky. But I know I can put my full self into my future because that's what I've been raised to do. I'm not sure I would have gone after my goals if not for my dad and his business. I hope to take the financial burden off my parents so I can one day set them up well in retirement.