It is not a disease. There is no medicine or cure. Yet grief takes root in every individual who has ever existed, exists, or will exist. While grieving is a natural human response to loss, society often expects it to follow a rigid timeline. When severe symptoms persist past twelve months, individuals are diagnosed with Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), effectively telling a grieving person that their process is "abnormal." Through research on PGD across age groups, I have found results that imply a slightly higher rate of PGD is found in the adolescent age group when compared to adult age groups. There are many factors contributing to this slight increase that are prevalent in studies, including the type of loss, as adolescents are more likely to lose a primary attachment figure such as immediate family; sudden or violent circumstances, such as school shootings or other catastrophic events; and brain and coping development, as the frontal lobe and many other processing parts of the brain are sufficiently underdeveloped during this age range. In a study entitled “Prolonged Grief-Related Symptoms Among Young Individuals After Loss of a Parent or Sibling to Cancer: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis,” Low et al. found that self-reported prolonged grief-related symptoms were present in 28% of adolescents who lost a parent and 59% of those who lost a sibling. These percentages represent young people left experiencing intense grief long after society expects them to "move on”. If taken to a psychiatrist, many would be diagnosed with PGD, due to the abnormality of retaining severe symptoms for that long. Out of fear of being labeled or judged, many will choose to suffer in silence. I was an adolescent who had prolonged grief for many, many months after the time deemed “normal " for grieving. I did not tell a soul, choosing to suffer in silence, out of fear of other people knowing, the fear of judgment, and the fear of knowing that something was wrong with me. Instead, I wrote daily in a journal to my mother, who had died in my preteen years. That journal is long gone now, lost after I hid it from the other people in my life. Yet I still think about it now, and think about what I could do for the grieving children of today, hiding their true feelings away in fear of being judged. Today, as a User Experience and Product Design student, I refuse to accept youth grieving in isolation as inevitable. Currently, I am developing an app designed to give adolescents a safe space to express their grief openly, in hopes that expressing this grief can help to lower persistent and severe symptoms. The platform combines private journaling for unfiltered thoughts with accessible, low-pressure resources for when users feel ready to seek support. By encouraging young people to face their memories and emotions through structured expression, the app helps to reframe grief not as a defect or something to hide, but as a human experience to process. Ultimately, this project defines the future I hope to build as a designer, a future where creating compassionate human-centered technology can destigmatize mental health and ensure no grieving adolescent ever feels entirely alone.

Whenever I think of dinosaurs, I hardly think about myself; my favorite one, which I think is the coolest. Instead, I think of dinosaur chucks, a dinosaur backpack, and a bed full of dinosaur stuffed animals– items all belonging to my best friend. Hayley has been my best friend, my other half, for ten years now. While I had never given much thought to dinosaurs as a kid, they happen to be an integral interest of my favorite person. So much so, the entire reason we met was a dinosaur drawing. It was the first day of fifth grade when I saw her– the girl with dinosaurs all over her shoes, backpack, and clothes. She was new in town, and incredibly shy with everyone in the class. I was shy too, but I wanted to be her friend so, so badly. So, I did the only thing I could think to do. I ripped out some notebook paper, grabbed a pencil and some crayons, and tried to draw a dinosaur to the best of my ability. I didn’t know much about them, so I tried copying the shapes that adorned her accessories. Now I know that it was a Stegosaurus. My messy childhood drawing of a Stegosaurus resulted in ten years of the best friendship I have ever had. Because of that, they have always been, and always will be, my favorite dinosaur. She still has them on her school bag, as keychains, and earrings. I have one of her plushies on my dorm bed so that I have a part of her with me despite our distance. Every time I see a dinosaur, I am reminded of her, our history, and our Stegosauruses. The drawing attached is a recent rendition of that original drawing, done with a simple mechanical pencil and Prismacolor colored pencils.

In two months, I will graduate highschool. As my eyes sweep from one side of the stadium to the other, the faintest blur of a face, shaped by age and lost memories will catch my thought. I truly do hope that my mother, perhaps in her most incorporeal form, blesses me with her presence on a night of such importance. I was twelve when my mother died. She had fought hard through her battle with cancer for six years already, her body couldn’t take any more. It’s to no one’s surprise that that was the worst night of my life, although some find it surprising in the ways it has affected me. Growing up, my mother was my main source of beliefs. Every ideology I have are from her. She was a strong woman, as one has to be when fighting a losing battle with stage four cancer. She was never afraid of death, only of what it would mean for her children. All of my fears were soothed under her blanket of strength and protection. She raised me with the beliefs that I could do anything I set my mind to, that it was human to make mistakes, and that being kind was worth more than anything. Her death cemented the beliefs she grew inside of me. In two months, I will graduate highschool at the top of my class thanks to my mother, as she was my main motivation to persevere throughout high school. I have always done well in school, but after my mother died, it didn't matter anymore. I did my best for the rest of the school year, but I was angry and tired all the time. I just wanted school to stop. And, it did. In March, we were told that school would be off for two weeks. But then, the pandemic happened. I got all the time in the world to process everything that had happened, and come to a conclusion that doing well in school would be the best way to honor her. By the end of freshman year, I worked my way up to the top, staying there for the next four years. There have been times I struggled with it all, but then I would remember how proud my mother was of me, and I used that motivation to stay on top of my work and in the top of my class. After graduation comes the realization that I’ve been accepted into the college of my dreams, with only one obstacle in my way– my financial situation. My father had worked for the military, but not too long after my mom had passed, my father got laid off, the contract that held his position being revoked. After struggling with unemployment for a while, he finally landed a low-paying job at an outsourcing company. Although, my father had always told me not to worry so much about money. My mother had always been a thrifty person, and we could manage with whatever was thrown our way. But, after catching a glimpse at my father’s taxes from last year, I realized the true severity of our situation. My father had made barely over $23,000 of taxable income in the last year. While I have money in my savings, it's nowhere near enough to cover my college expenses. Baring my mother’s resilience, I’ve been working hard applying for both jobs and scholarships to be able to afford my dreams. I love my mother more than anything, and it’s because of her that I am who I am today personally, academically, and financially.

I’m sure the stadium lights were shining bright that night, illuminating the crowded stands and intense game underneath them. I’m sure my closest friends were having the time of their lives as the football game attempted scores against our opponents. In fact, I’m sure we lost the game. But, I didn't care. Instead of spending my Friday night in the stands, worrying about losing the game, I was curled up in a hospital bed dealing with the loss of my mother. I was twelve when my mother died, cradling me in her arms. The image of her that night haunts my consciousness, a cruel reminder of the tight bond that slipped away that night. She was everything to me, as I was everything to her. Walking away from the hospice center that night, I left a piece of myself behind in her body. I lost my mother, my concrete pillar of support, my protector, and most of all myself, all in one moment. I know I can’t replace her, her support, or my protection. But, everyday since I left the room in which she left me, I have made a promise to her that I will find myself again. I will rebuild. I will succeed off of the support she left me with in my time with her. I will do everything in my power to become the woman she believed I would be, but will never get to meet. In her memory, I have strived and shaped my life to be the very best person I could be. She lifted me up and encouraged me to do well in everything I did, so that’s what I have done. I have prospered in my schooling, making high marks and settling myself at the top of my class. I have also resided as both first chair and section leader in my highschool’s band, working well among my classmates and section members, and became the sitting president of the art club. Every activity I have participated in, I have made great efforts to succeed and do the very best I could, hoping to become the girl my mother believed I could be. Everything I do, I do for her. Honoring her memory is the support I cling on to, her belief in me being one of the few things that has held me back from spiraling in a downward path. It has been years since my mother’s passing, but there hasn’t been a day that's gone by where I haven’t honored her. While her face and voice may have faded in my memory over time, the time and love she had given me has not. Her death has been an experience that greatly shaped my life, and my outlook of it. It has made me increasingly depressed, nostalgic, and hopeful for the future. My mother may not have been able to be with me as I grew into a woman, but dwelling on the unwavering past is useless. The only hope I can have is as I reunite with her in the afterlife, I am able to greet her as the incredible woman she believed I would become. Perhaps I’ll meet her again on another Friday night. This time I’ll miss the game on purpose, because instead I would be curled up in a comfortable bed, reeling about the reconciliation with my mother instead of cheering at a winning game.

Shrill laughter fills the room as the race begins. We twist and turn the remotes, each trying harder than the other to move our virtual bicycle faster. It’s the fifth round of gaming, each of us striving hard to break the tie. I rarely beat him, so I give it my all, my small body shaking with the remote. I cross the virtual finish line, just seconds behind his character. He laughs and taunts me as I throw my remote to the ground. The small blue square fades as the batteries fall out. Years have passed since then. The outdated Wii rests on the bottom shelf of the TV stand, a layer of dust telling its age. The remotes reside in the cabinets beside it, still dirty from childhood. I would pick one up and play it again, but it wouldn’t be the same. I was never player one before, and I don’t think I could bring myself to be player one now. My brother and I have grown up; he's gone off to college, and I’ve studied hard throughout my senior year. Our Wii characters have not, remaining in the same state we left them for the last time, whether we meant to leave them or not. Video games are very important to me, despite myself not being a huge gamer, because of the bond they have formed between my brother and I. Being four years apart in age, my brother and I had a big disconnect for many years. He never wanted to do much with me, because all of the things that I liked were “babyish” or “girly,” and he claimed that I was too young and dumb to understand his interests. That all had to come to a change when my parents bought him a wii. He loved to play the WiiSports games, but he had trouble finding people to play with. My father worked hard in the military, my mother was busy with the house, and his friends couldn’t come over as often as he wanted. Eventually, he realized that his only option was to play with me. His only rule was that he had to be player one. I didn’t really mind all that much; I just liked being included. At first, I was awful at playing the games. He beat me with ease, and had fun constantly winning. But as time went on, I got better and better at the games, and our parents had bought us more games to try and beat. They were all simple, but we loved them. My brother eventually even preferred playing with me over anyone else, which came as a shock to everyone. My bond with my brother grew stronger and stronger over the years, as we began to share more interests and have more in common. We continued to play video games for a while, completing some of the Pokemon games together, doing mystery games on PC, and even trying out some bigger games, like Minecraft and Fortnite. Video games brought us together and helped us to create a basis to form a familial bond. My brother is very important to me, and I wouldn’t want to imagine a world where we never formed a close bond. Video games have consistently been a way for me to be in my brother’s life and aided in helping us form a true sibling bond much earlier than I thought we ever could. No matter how far we grow apart as we start the rest of our lives into adulthood, I’ll always know that I’ll be his player two.

I have always had a unique fascination with the arts, from the time I was very young to the current day. For a long time, I didn’t know anything about graphic design. All throughout middle school, I was dead set on the path of traditional art and art history studies, until a bad experience in my art class set me off my path. I knew I still wanted to pursue the arts, so I signed up for the graphics pathway; unknowingly setting myself up to find my greatest passion in life. The first day I stepped into my new graphics classroom, I was met with a new world of artistic liberties and skillful design. I was one of very few kids that actually paid attention as my teacher droned on about the different aspects of design and composition. Throughout my graphics classes, I have completed many assignments that have allowed me to make art that I could only dream of making traditionally. Using Adobe software such as Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign, my art has come to life with clean lines and balanced composition. I love how graphic design can explore and highlight many different styles, such as neat vector images, dark overlapping layers, and modern balances of text and color. There’s really no limit to what you can design, and it's fun to learn new skills that make assignments easier. Because of the limitless possibilities of design, my graphics classes quickly became my favorite, as I couldn’t wait to see what else I could create. In fact, I became so enthralled with using Adobe Photoshop, that I became professionally certified after only using it for four months. My graphics teacher had given my class the certification test on Certiport to see where we were at with the program during midterm week at our school. Only three people in my class of twenty got certified, and I was one of them, scoring the highest marks out of the three. Receiving this certificate added more fuel to my passion for graphic design, and encourages me daily to learn more about Adobe Illustrator so I can become certified in the program as well. While my classes have taught me many of the skills, many animated shows such as Gravity Falls, the Beetlejuice animated series, and Adventure Time actually inspired me to get into animation and graphic design. I was intrigued with how the shows were drawn, and how they could move so fluidly with the story. Loving these shows has put me down the path of learning how to draw and design people and backgrounds on any program I could get my hands on. Looking at many of my pieces, one could tell the many inspirations I have had for each of my artworks. Everything I design and produce is a combination of all that I have loved and learned. Now that I have the skills to actually make my ideas come to life, my passion for graphic design has only grown more and more. I have actively sought out any way I could contribute to my school and community through graphic design. Whether it be helping my teacher with commissions for the graphics department, designing alternate logos for businesses within the community, or even just helping other students during class, I try my hardest to involve myself in the small world of graphic design that I am currently a part of. I do this in hopes that the small world I am a part of can expand greatly as I continue to pursue it throughout college and the rest of my life.

When I was in middle school, my best friend in high school started listening to Billie Eilish. In turn, I did too. Despite growing out of a lot of interests, listening to Billie stuck. My favorite songs of hers have changed over the years, but currently, my top three are “What Was I Made For?” “Happier Than Ever,” and “everything i wanted.” Although these are a bit sadder than most of her other songs, I listen and resonate with them more than the rest of her incredible discography. Firstly, the song I love the most, “What Was I Made For?” featured in Barbie. I remember sitting in theaters watching the movie, and hearing the song for the first time; all I wanted to do was bawl my eyes out. I went home and frantically searched for the lyrics, seeing the meaning in every word. As someone who had a great loss young in my life, and who is scared for how the future will play out, the lyrics connected to my heart in a way that I don’t believe that I myself understand. I love this song so much because it feels like being heard, even if Billie doesn’t know I’m speaking. I truly don’t know what I’m made for, and I don’t know if I ever will, and hearing Billie say aloud my inner thoughts is why this song resonates with me so deeply. I don’t know if there could ever be another song that could hold a place in my heart as this one does. I do still hold love for my second favorite song of Billie’s, “Happier Than Ever.” The pondering thoughts of someone you once loved throughout the song is something I can heavily relate to. It’s hard to feel a connection with someone who has wronged you so profoundly, but it’s even harder to give up the memories of who you thought they were before they did. Not to mention the switch up in the song for both the style of music and her tone changing from being almost apologetic to releasing all of the pent up anger the other person has caused. I find myself relating to this song a lot, as I try to be dismissive of people who have wronged me, despite being angry with them. I love this song a lot, and it's earned its spot as my second favorite song. Lastly, my third favorite song has to be “everything i wanted.” The song discusses heavy topics of thoughts of suicide, and even attempts. The message of this song heavily resonates with me as someone who has had many friends who have had thoughts of suicide, or even have attempts of trying to do it. The song helps convey how people feel in their head whenever they want to do it, but in a way that is executed so beautifully. I always try to be the other person in this song, providing reassurance to my friends that they are loved, and that all the people making them feel so bad about themselves don't deserve them. This song is so beautiful to me, and I find myself resonating with it profoundly. In all, Billie Eilish has impacted my life in many ways, especially through these three songs. If anyone were to ever ask me about her music, these would always be my first recommendation. I feel like these songs speak to me from the heart, and validate all the feelings that I have. The musicality and themes of her songs are amazing, and I will always be a fan for life.

“Seriously, why art?” my science teacher asked, a look of surprise across his face. It was near the end of his class, and we had gotten onto the topic of what college we all wanted to go to, and what majors we were hoping to flourish in. I had just told him I wanted to apply to an art school, and that I hoped to major in graphic design. He was in shock, and told me I could succeed and do great things in science, having the highest marks in the class for physical science, biology, and chemistry. While there’s money in science, my passion lies in the arts. I cannot kill my passion, just to succeed. Life without passion is not a life worth living. My name is Madeline Kinch, and I have loved art from a very young age. All of my hobbies include creating something, whether it be a physical piece of art, shapes on a screen, a story from words I’ve guessed the meaning of, or music I play from memory. My mother started my love for the arts, as she supported the very seeds my skills have grown from. I look back on my old works now in shame, cringing at what my younger self had created, yet my mother loved any and everything I made. The fleeting memories of her love and support are my main motivator that strengthens my passion for the arts more and more as the years go on. Since her initial support, many more have helped support my dreams, giving me constructive criticism and ideas to aid in enhancing my skills as an artist. Love and support from others is the foundation of every work I create. From the very start, from the initial seeds my mother breathed life into, I have had a story in my head. One that has continued to grow and change as I have, blossoming into a terrifyingly beautiful tale. My main goal is to be able to tell the story that lives in my head well enough that it never changes again. I wish to create it in such a way that the characters come to life in the world the same way they have come to life in my mind. Telling this story will be concocting a blend of all my hobbies into one work, breathing into all of the life and passion I have for the arts and design. Creating a life work, a work of human passion and creativity is something that no amount of technology could ever replace. Every creative thing that I produce, whether good or bad, rushed or patient, digital or not, has had a piece of my life, a piece of my passion, embedded into its innerworkings. I want to create works of art for people to relate to, for people to pick apart the layers and implications. I want to create works of art to express what I cannot say aloud. Currently, I am attending Lanier County High School, which resides in a town that is unrecognizable on a map. By next fall, however, I hope to be attending a school of art and design, pursuing my dreams and passions of graphic design and storytelling. I hope to succeed in these areas, and fully enter the world of artistic minds, finding others like me with a deep passion for the arts. I want to become someone my mother would be proud of, and go far with my creative talent in her memory. I want to create stunning works that inspire people of all kinds, making the world more and more beautiful and creative. I want to tell my story in a way that it is remembered by many who love and cherish it. I want to do the hobbies I love and enjoy for the rest of my life, and share that joy with as many other people as I can. But most importantly, I want to flourish in the arts and succeed in creating my life’s passion so that I can find my science teacher once more, and simply respond, “this is why.”

When I was younger, I believed a truly strange superstition. It was stupid, but I used to believe that as long as a person was reading a book, they couldn’t die until the book was finished. Looking back, perhaps it was just wishful thinking that as long as my mother was reading a book, she wouldn’t succumb to her battle with cancer. The thought that reading had the power to rival death was comforting throughout my adolescence, but I was soon ripped from this fantasy. I was twelve when my mother died, leaving her bookmark in between pages forever. Despite this earth-shattering realization, I remained captivated by the fictional worlds entrapped in novels. I read more than I ever had after this realization, because I believed that I should read as much as I could before death could come for me. Many novels I read shaped not only my goals, but myself as a person during this time. They taught me important lessons that my mother wasn’t able to. These novels set me up to achieve, and even helped to shape my goals of becoming an artist and creative mind, pursuing further education, and helping others whenever possible. While many novels built upon my goals, the most important and influential book I have ever read was the chilling narrative written by Markus Zusak, entitled “The Book Thief.” The story follows a young girl named Liesel Meminger as she lives with her new foster parents during the Second World War in Nazi Germany. The book in its entirety shaped my formative mind, but there are three main parts that grasped at my mind and soul and shaped a large part of my goals. The first of these parts resides on the first pages of the novel. The first pages are in the perspective of Death, as he talks through the incredible colors of life and humanity, as well as the harsh reality that everything will eventually die. This section inspired me to work towards my goals, as it talks about the beauty in life that only death can perceive. This shaped my goal in becoming an artist, as I can only strive and work toward becoming skillful enough to capture the essence and beauty of life that death believes that only he can see. As I apply to colleges to pursue art and design, I am brought back to these pages. The second of these parts is when Liesel’s foster parents aid in hiding a Jewish man in their basement, concealing him from the Nazi government. This section not only taught me the valuable lesson to be kind to others, no matter where they come from, but also helped shape my goal to become a better person. One of my biggest goals is to help people in need, and volunteer whenever possible. The last of these parts is the ending of the novel, where Liesel survives the bombing of her town because she was the only one in the basement, as she was studying. The ending of this novel was ingrained in my mind and shaped my one main goal in life: to pursue further education. Realizing how hard Liesel strived and worked to be educated made me realize how important pursuing education truly was. I could honestly write about all the ways every novel I’ve ever read has impacted my life goals, but that would be the longest piece of media ever written. My goals, and all of the lessons I have learned that have shaped me into the person I am today come from the books I have read.

Math has always been a universally hated subject. For the longest time, I had to agree with the unanimous hate. It was boring, and I just couldn't wait until the class ended. But through the years, I've found myself enjoying the subject more and more for many reasons. The first reason came about in my freshman year, where the math problems became like games, or solvable puzzles, that could keep me entertained for long class periods. It even got to the point where I would get impatient during the lecture because I couldn't wait until my teacher passed out the example problems. I love the rush of adrenaline I get when racing through problems, and then I love taking a deep breath and slowly re-working them to check my answers. Knowing that there's a definitive answer to the problem made it fun, because the pieces would have to arrange to make a viable answer, much like a puzzle. But keeping me entertained throughout class isn't the only reason I love math presently. Another reason is that I found fun uses for the subject. Being an artistic person, I found that using math in my art made it look so much better. A vast majority, if not all, great artists use math in the compositions of their artwork, so as I aimed to better my skills in drawing and designing, I found a plethora of amazing and fun uses of math. It helps me express my thoughts through the art I make, making it a big reason why I love math. The main reason why I love math though, doesn't actually come from the subject itself. It's because my best friend hated it. Why would that make me love it? Well, she only hated it because she could never understand the concepts in time for the tests. So, I would help her study, and try my hardest to help her before every test so that she could pass. While she still wasn't the greatest, math helped me share so many memories with her that I wouldn't have gotten to experience otherwise. Going our separate ways for college won't be easy, but I know that every time I come across a math problem, whether it be easy or hard, I will think of her, and all the time I spent with her teaching the subject. That is why I love math.