As I sit here trying to think of ways to begin this essay, I realize how much more difficult my growing struggles with mental health have made tasks that were once so easy for me. I was an honors and AP English student in middle and high school, and I was able to crank out essays like this one in a matter of an hour or less. The passion I had for English at the time held the fatigue of my mounting depression at bay, but as I started to struggle through college, glimpses of that depression I had fought since I was 11 began to work their way through the cracks. It became difficult to do basic activities of daily living. Getting out of bed, eating, and, especially, writing essays were all monumental tasks. I fell far behind, withdrew from semesters, and considered myself incapable and a failure. My parents both have master's degrees, and I had always held the expectation for myself that I would achieve at least a bachelor's degree, if not a graduate degree. I grew so tired of fighting and continuing to lose. Eventually, I decided to leave with my degree unfinished and the expectations I held for myself unmet. This transition was absolutely devastating to my self-esteem. I spent months recovering from burnout only to realize that not doing anything productive was making my mental health worse. I tried the gig economy for a while, but eventually landed a full-time job as a Direct Support Professional at an Adult Foster Care home. Things were very hard for the first few months, as I had no friends at work and my perceived inability to complete a bachelor's degree haunted me. I would get so depressed at times that I would shut myself into the bathroom to cry, holding cold, damp paper towels to my eyes afterward so no one would ask questions. I had yet another realization: that I could not continue like this. I could not live a life of loathing myself for what I could not achieve. I was not sure how I was going to do it, but I knew I needed to dig myself out of the hole I had landed in. The answer came in a surprising way. This is where my coworkers and residents helped immensely. As I got to know my coworkers better, I found out that many of them are both working and going to community college. Rather than seeking a four-year degree and falling into debt, which I feared above all else, they were going for technical school, certifications, and associate's degrees. I had never seen this as an option for myself, with all the pressure from my family to attend college traditionally, and I became encouraged at the prospect of not having to spend more time and money than I was prepared to finish a program. On top of this, my residents and job helped raise my self-esteem. My residents have told me that they view me as "smart and sweet," and when I have spoken to them about potentially going back to school, they have only ever offered great encouragement. My managers have told me they see me as smart and capable, and working has made me feel capable of supporting my own survival. My mental health is not perfect now, but it is much better. Depression makes you feel so purposeless, but after these past few months, I am so much more optimistic about my own capabilities. I learned a lot from this process, like that it is ok to break away from what is expected of me and forge my own way in life, that no matter how difficult depression causes things to get, I can find a way out of it, and that the light at the end of the tunnel can come from surprising places.

As I sit here trying to think of ways to begin this essay, I realize how much more difficult my growing struggles with mental health have made tasks that were once so easy for me. I was an honors and AP English student in middle and high school, and I was able to crank out essays like this one in a matter of an hour or less. The passion I had for English at the time held the fatigue of my mounting depression at bay, but as I started to struggle through college, glimpses of that depression I had fought since I was 11 began to work their way through the cracks. It became difficult to do basic activities of daily living. Getting out of bed, eating, and, especially, writing essays were all monumental tasks. I fell far behind, withdrew from semesters, and considered myself incapable and a failure. My parents both have master's degrees, and I had always held the expectation for myself that I would achieve at least a bachelor's degree, if not a graduate degree. I grew so tired of fighting and continuing to lose. Eventually, I decided to leave with my degree unfinished and the expectations I held for myself unmet. This transition was absolutely devastating to my self-esteem. I spent months recovering from burnout only to realize that not doing anything productive was making my mental health worse. I tried the gig economy for a while, but eventually landed a full-time job as a Direct Support Professional at an Adult Foster Care home. Things were very hard for the first few months, as I had no friends at work and my perceived inability to complete a bachelor's degree haunted me. I would get so depressed at times that I would shut myself into the bathroom to cry, holding cold, damp paper towels to my eyes afterward so no one would ask questions. I had yet another realization: that I could not continue like this. I could not live a life of loathing myself for what I could not achieve. I was not sure how I was going to do it, but I knew I needed to dig myself out of the hole I had landed in. The answer came in a surprising way. This is where my coworkers and residents helped immensely. As I got to know my coworkers better, I found out that many of them are both working and going to community college. Rather than seeking a four-year degree and falling into debt, which I feared above all else, they were going for technical school, certifications, and associate's degrees. I had never seen this as an option for myself, with all the pressure from my family to attend college traditionally, and I became encouraged at the prospect of not having to spend more time and money than I was prepared to finish a program. On top of this, my residents and job helped raise my self-esteem. My residents have told me that they view me as "smart and sweet," and when I have spoken to them about potentially going back to school, they have only ever offered great encouragement. My managers have told me they see me as smart and capable, and working has made me feel capable of supporting my own survival. My mental health is not perfect now, but it is much better. Depression makes you feel so purposeless, but after these past few months, I am so much more optimistic about my own capabilities. I learned a lot from this process, like that it is ok to break away from what is expected of me and forge my own way in life, that no matter how difficult depression causes things to get, I can find a way out of it, and that the light at the end of the tunnel can come from surprising places.

When people think of relatability, they often think of the surface level of identities. This can lead to shallow criticisms of the relatability of literary works and the supposed consequences that lack of relatability can have. Out of this lens spring statements following the template of "[insert identity] is not featured in the book/movie/etc, so [insert identity] won't like it/read it/relate to it." This is especially true when marginalized identities are given representation and critical readers/watchers/listeners claim that the literature will not appeal to "bigger audiences" (read: groups that already have representation in literature), as they will not relate. These identities do, of course, have an impact on the relatability of literature, but they do not impact it nearly so much as the deeper themes that are buried within those identities, themes that create commonalities across identities. Based on this analysis of relatability criticisms, the book I would have everyone in the world read is The Chosen by Chaim Potok. The Chosen focuses on two Jewish boys, one progressive and one Hasidic (Orthodox), living in New York City in the 1940s. They form a friendship that is challenged throughout the novel, both by external and internal strife. Issues such as World War II and the Holocaust, and, following this, Zionism, create struggles for the two boys as they come of age in a country that has its own share of anti-semitism. The focus on Judaism, especially Hasidic Judaism, will initially come across as unrelatable to most readers in the world. The focus on boys and men will initially come across as unrelatable to women. The focus on the issues of the 1940s will initially come across as unrelatable to modern readers. However, the deeper themes of the identities and the challenges will undoubtedly fight that idea of "unrelatability," themes such as generational trauma, strife within one's own community, challenges in friendships, challenges with parents, and conflict within oneself. This will give something very valuable to the reader: the ability to empathize with people who, on the surface, are different than oneself.

I’ve been in college for three years and this is my first time ever applying to scholarships. I had a tuition waiver for the university I have attended thus far due to a parent being employed there. This is what has allowed me to afford college without debt. It sounds too good to be true, and it is. I had the usual struggles of a student going to college through Covid, but nothing prepared me for my junior year. Midway through my third year at the university, a story broke in the school paper that the college had severed ties with an affiliated organization because one of the employees is a queer person. The college had attempted to cover this up, but it was confirmed when the college proceeded to lay off the professor who officiated the queer individual’s wedding. These actions by administration caused anti-queer prejudice to become normalized on campus, and the university no longer felt like a safe or welcoming place to be as a queer individual. My depression worsened significantly, and I decided I had to leave. My associations with college as a whole became entirely negative, and I became jaded and cynical about ever going back to college at all, especially knowing that the cost might be prohibitive. In my time away from school, I started my first full-time job and now support myself entirely. It was at this job that I regained a spark of hope for going back to college. I met coworkers also coming from difficult situations, and was inspired by their tenacity and enthusiasm toward school. The spark of hope grew as I realized that I could refocus my sights and go to community college, and I was excited and encouraged to find that my local college has a program for my childhood dream career: dental hygienist. Receiving this scholarship would do a lot for me. It would destroy the barrier of the prohibitive cost of college. It would allow me to prove to myself and my family that I am capable of completing a program and starting a career. It would set me up for a successful future in a lucrative and rewarding field. It would allow money to not be a worry, leaving not only funds for my survival, but time for me to use doing what I love. This scholarship would honestly change the trajectory of my life.