"The world is hard on beautiful things." - Megan Moroney My name is Matthew Gomez, and I am a 17-year-old senior at Los Fresnos High School. I serve as the president of HOSA and the vice president of career development in DECA. I have redefined Rotary Interact's Planting Hope committee to give back to people in need. I maintain a 4.0 GPA, rank 28 out of 777, and challenge myself with rigorous AP and dual enrollment classes. I plan to graduate high school with an associate's degree in applied arts in general studies and applied science, and I hope to attend The University of Texas at Austin to major in neuroscience. I felt a big connection reading about Sammy's life, sitting on my bed, playing my guitar, and singing to whatever I'm feeling in that moment (I love "The Chair" by George Strait!) It always surprises me that no matter how many times I pick up my guitar, I always find myself distracted. This is exactly why I hope to study neuroscience in the medical field. The brain takes these microscopic vibrations and turns them into something meaningful. Life, however, has a way of hitting you when you least expect it. My dad has been living with a detached retina for almost 4 years, waiting to have the surgery that will (hopefully) restore his vision. I remember waiting in the car with my mom and brother while he was inside the hospital for what felt like forever. I remember being anxious, assuming the worst. I still get nervous when he drives an hour to and from work, especially when it's dark or foggy outside. Seeing him stay strong throughout all of this while my mom works passionately as an elementary teacher shows me hope for my future. My parents' examples of hardship drive me to pursue a career in the medical field, specifically neuroscience, to help other families similar to mine navigate their own problems and struggles to face challenges without fear. I am eternally grateful to God for my parents. Much like Sammy Ochoa's family and friends, I learned the cruelty of life through my best friend, Angel. We met in our sophomore year and instantly became best friends. The summer before Senior year, Angel passed away suddenly in a car accident, and I carried his casket. He made me realize that life is short, and I don't have the luxury of waiting. There's no guarantee I'll be here tomorrow, or that I won't be carrying another casket sooner than I expect. He taught me that the strongest thing you can do after loss is to live. I have also been deeply inspired and encouraged to help others in need. I volunteered at a homeless shelter, where I've seen firsthand how families with little kids, the elderly, and even people my age, with whom I have had interactions with, struggle in their daily lives. I noticed that they are not just "homeless," they are normal people just like us who are figuring life out on their own. Recently, an entire apartment complex caught on fire, and many individuals came here seeking refuge, so I organized a drive at my school to bring back donations to the shelter. The world is indeed hard on beautiful things. I've seen it with my dad, the loss of my best friend, and the people I meet at the homeless shelter. One day, with the help of this scholarship, I will use neuroscience in the medical field to help others overcome their hardships, because in no world should pain ever define a person's story.

My name is Matthew Gomez, and I am a 17-year-old senior at Los Fresnos High School. I serve as the president of HOSA and the vice president of career development in DECA. I have redefined Rotary Interact's Planting Hope committee to give back to people in need. I maintain a 4.0 GPA, rank 28 out of 777, and challenge myself with rigorous AP and dual enrollment classes. I plan to graduate high school with an associate's degree, and I hope to attend The University of Texas at Austin to major in neuroscience. Students from underserved backgrounds deserve opportunities like these because we often fight battles that no one notices. For the past 4 years, I have watched my dad live with a detached retina while we wait for the right time to hopefully have the surgery that will bring his vision back. I pray to God that my dad comes home safely during his hourly drive to and from work, especially when it is dark or foggy outside. My mom works long hours as an elementary teacher, supporting our family. I've volunteered at a homeless shelter, seeing children and people my age struggling to get by. The experiences I have been through in my life have shown me that the world does not favor everyone equally, but students like me push harder and reach for more because we know the stakes. Scholarships are a chance for me to turn my experiences into real-world change and help others medically who have gone through the same experiences I have. I have overcome obstacles by seeking opportunities that push me beyond my comfort zone. In 2024, I walked into a 10-day internship with Noble in La Feria, knowing absolutely nothing about the construction industry, and I stepped out with a passion and love for it. During the internships, I asked questions not to stand out, but to prove that, without prior knowledge, I was driven to grow a new version of myself in a space that I did not originally belong. I visited construction sites like Sonic, the UTRGV Stadium, and the Los Fresnos Performing Arts Center in my school district. Later, I was given the opportunity to travel to the Texas Capitol in Austin and advocate to Texas Workforce Commissioners for increased funding and access to internships for students like me. I thank God for the initiative, curiosity, and courage that allowed someone like me from an underserved background to turn obstacles into something bigger. More than releasing my financial burden, this scholarship would give me the freedom to say yes to opportunities when I otherwise couldn't. My goal is to be proof of what happens when someone with so much potential and a drive to make an impact finally gets recognition and can make a real difference in their community. I am committed to success because I have already proven I will do the work long before the reward. Thank you so much for the opportunity to apply.

I didn’t realize that a joke at Denny’s would become the lens through which I’d measure courage, love, and loss. The night Angel and I walked into the restaurant in our cotillion suits, we looked like we had just stepped out of a movie set. We were both waiting for the girl we had come with to get out of the car. Inside, Angel turned to the waiter with a straight face and asked if there were any free meals for married couples. Embarrassed, I burst out laughing. Angel and I met in our sophomore year physics class and instantly became best friends. Before the first week of senior year, Angel texted that he wanted to hang out with me the last Tuesday before school started. We didn’t set a plan immediately, but he said, “I’ll give u a call!” On Tuesday at 12:36 pm, I got a Life360 notification that the car Angel was riding in had stopped. I ignored it. Hours later, my phone rang with news that would change my life forever. I never got to hang out with Angel again. Instead, I was carrying his casket. A car accident had taken him away before we had the chance to see where our lives would lead. Angel understood my humor in ways that no one else would. He would trip on purpose after walking out of the movies just to embarrass me. My current friends would never, and I would give anything to be embarrassed again. He was the one I told things to that I've never said to anyone else. And what do you do when that person is gone? Start over? Nobody tells you what to do when someone you love so much passes away, especially when you're still in high school. When I finally had home to myself, I screamed until my throat burned, acted like a lunatic, crying in the shower, and waking up in the middle of the night with my pillow soaked in tears and devastation. I didn't know grief could look like this. It was the first impactful loss of my life. For days, I couldn't eat, shower, or enjoy anything knowing my best friend was gone. I still lie in bed crying, reading the messages of the friend who would never answer again. I miss him with everything I have. Angel had big plans for himself. He dreamed of going to college at The University of Texas at Austin. He talked about being a Longhorn often, picturing the campus, the people he would meet, the life he would build. Now, I carry those dreams with me. I want to fulfill them for him, to walk across a campus he once imagined himself on, to achieve the things he didn’t get the chance to. It’s been almost five months, and for the first time, I feel hope for my future again. I want to be a Longhorn for Angel. He made me realize how short life is, and that I don’t have the luxury of waiting. There’s no guarantee I’ll be here to reply to a text tomorrow, or that I won’t be carrying another casket sooner than I expect. He taught me that the strongest thing you can do after loss is to live. When I walk into the next chapter of my life: A college lecture hall, an internship, or even a new city, I want to do it the same way Angel walked into that Denny’s that January night: confident, full of love, and ready to make the people around me laugh, even when life is unpredictable.

What does it mean to be "different," and who gets to decide? Is it the child who processes the world more deeply, or is it the people who aren't ready for these conversations? I always find myself asking these questions again and again, as I've seen firsthand how gifted children are thrown a label before they are even understood. My goal in pursuing social work, specifically translational neuroscience, is to help people understand that the brain is one of the most powerful ways to advocate for gifted children and protect their social-emotional well-being. My interest in pursuing neuroscience comes from the desire to understand why gifted children feel so deeply and why their emotional responses are often misread. Many gifted children experience what is known as "asynchronous development," where emotional, social, and growth all happen at different rates. Instead of asking, "What is wrong with this child?" neuroscience allows us to ask, "What does this child need to feel understood and supported?" I have already seen this many times in my community. As the president of HOSA at my school, I help organize events tailored to gifted students, students who spend most of their school day in special classes and rarely ever have the opportunity to interact with peers outside of those spaces. This year, we have been planning events like Halloween parties, Thanksgiving celebrations, and school traditions that allow them to be themselves. Some students will interact with you once and remember your name for the rest of their high school journey, which is something that brings me to tears. One moment that stays with me is when we created homecoming crowns for these absolutely amazing students last year. Watching them have the crowns on, I saw smiles that I have never seen, even from my usual collection of friends and peers. For many of them, it was the first time they felt included in a school tradition. When people describe these types of children as "different," I do not see difference. I see children responding to environments that were never designed with them in mind. I want to help others advocate for change, rather than to expect these children to adapt on their own. Lieba Jordan's legacy is a perfect example of this realization. She defended others, and her sensitivity to prejudice was never a sign of weakness, but a sign of genuine understanding and awareness, something that not many people have in today's world. In my future, I hope to live somewhere between neuroscience, mental health, and social advocacy. I want to turn neuroscience into something bigger than just the brain, and I want to create educational and mental-health programs that honor the intellect of these students and the emotional humanity of others who do not realize that they are a lot like us. This is more than an academic interest for me, it's a responsibility I feel deeply. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to continue this work and deepen my impact, as I hope to pursue neuroscience at The University of Texas at Austin. And honestly, there isn't a better place to study incredibly gifted minds than a city that proudly lives by the motto "Keep Austin Weird." For me, that saying isn't about being strange at all; it represents creating a space where people do not fit neatly into one mold. This is how I understand gifted children. They do not need to "change" or be fixed to understand that they belong as well. They need environments that recognize who they are and allow them to blossom. When I say I want to study neuroscience, I hope to help build systems that honor difference without stripping individuality. If my work can help create spaces where I can see the same proud smiles I saw when we made them senior homecoming crowns, I know, without a doubt, that I am on the right path.

If you were to ask me what the most perfectly built structure is in the world, I wouldn't say the Great Pyramid of Giza or the Burj Khalifa. Instead, I would tell you it's the human body. Just knowing that our body is made up of trillions of cells that are working inside of us this very moment to keep us alive and in homeostasis is enough to send me into a coma. On my first day of junior year at Los Fresnos High School. I walked into my 1st period (Anatomy & Physiology) late. Nevertheless, I was greeted with a handshake and a smile from Mrs. Erika Martinez. Before taking this class, I always wanted to do something big in communications and public speaking, however, Mrs. Martinez's love for the human body was contagious, and I couldn't help but wonder why we do the things we do, think the way we think, and react to different scenarios in different ways (like how thermoreceptors in your skin detect temperature changes and send signals to your brain, triggering that "Ouch!" response after touching a hot stove or iron). Anatomy & Physiology was the foundation I needed to realize I had a newfound passion and commitment to understanding how the body is controlled by the nervous system, and this led me to a fascination with neuroscience. As my interest and dedication to serving others grow through clinical neuroscience, I am beginning to understand that healthcare is not about memorizing databases or diagnosing conditions, but solely about people. I am driven to know how neurological health in the brain and spinal cord affects people's learning behavior, mental health, and quality of life. Thankfully, last year, I was given the opportunity to participate in HOSA's Biomedical Debate with Mrs. Martinez, where my team and I dove into research topics about the effects of social media on adolescent brain development, persuading the judges that the government should/should not regulate social media for teens 17 and under. I was truly fascinated when I viewed Korean brain studies that analyzed the brains of teens before and after heavy use of social media, and saw that teens' brains after heavy use of social media had regions that were lit up like Times Square. This indicated that it was becoming harder for them to perform basic tasks. As someone who wants to make an impact in my community and is committed to understanding how the brain fits in all of this, I took this debate as an opportunity to gain experience in a possible future healthcare career. Thanks to my team and all of our efforts, we were beyond blessed to qualify for the national level in Nashville, TN. Beyond just being committed to clinical neuroscience, that isn't enough for me. I live in an underserved community, where access to healthcare and mental health is not something talked about often. I want to be the one to come back to my community in the future and use the knowledge that I will have gained in neuroscience to better help improve the quality of life and help patients understand their own bodies. So no, I still wouldn't say that the Great Pyramid of Giza or the Burj Khalifa are the most impressive structures in the world. They don't repair themselves, move signals in milliseconds, or keep someone alive without even thinking about it. By pursuing neuroscience, I am dedicated to bringing understanding of the mind and how it keeps us alive every day, but most importantly, caring for the most complex structure any of us will ever live in.