Dear Harvest Goal Collective, Some hobbies have an on and off switch. Mine doesn’t. To even call it a hobby seems demeaning of the power that it holds over me. I am a writer. I speak with invisible confidants until the late hours of the night, lamenting our losses, laughing until we cry, charting maps of demise and scribbling down ideas with the fervor of a tortured poet, ever possessed by the spirits of the past. Writing is a calling to me, one that refuses to be unanswered. I’ve been obsessed with reading ever since I could remember. I found that from a young age, stories would continue on in my head, no matter how firmly the author declared The End. I loved to sit and daydream, to imagine how I would fare in the characters' adventure, and to wonder at how their lives would continue on. Around the age of nine, I began to picture other characters in my head– ones I hadn’t previously met. They whispered stories of their own into my ears, detailing devilish schemes and captivating connections. I drank in their tales, their magic-filled murmurs becoming my life-force. I listened and I listened, until one day my mind was drowning in words. My plank of wood in the ocean presented itself as pen and paper. Writing has been an integral part of my life and who I am, and my characters have become like my closest friends. These characters have entrusted their stories to me, bringing with them their deepest hopes, fears, and needs. They have taught me depth, love, and how to dream. It is only right that I return the favor through recording these tales on their behalf. Writing has changed my life– that much is clear. Now, as I prepare to enter college, I’ve begun to plan how I can further explore this fundamental function of my being. These days, trying to get traditionally published is near impossible. On average, only one in every hundred books received by publishers actually make it to shelves. The odds are not in my favor. Despite this, I have dedicated many years of trial and triumph to this goal, and I refuse to let a number scare me away. Through working for my family business, I have meticulously saved up money in the hopes of aiding my future attempts at publishing. My goal this summer is to reach out to a minimum of fifty agents, with the hopes of signing one to publish my 80,000 word novel, Umbra. If I can’t get one to sign, I will use my savings to hire an editor and a coach– I’ve even picked out a coach in advance, should it come to that. Additionally, with college starting this fall, I plan to pursue a minor in creative writing so that I may improve upon my manuscripts. creative Despite the daunting odds and inevitable setbacks, I remain devoted in my pursuit to bring my stories to life. Writing is not just a passion; it is the essence of who I am and who I aspire to be. As I prepare to enter this next chapter of my life, I am more committed than ever to sharing my characters’ voices with the world, confident that my perseverance will eventually lead to seeing my books on shelves. This dream, like the stories I craft, is the adventure I am determined to live.

I first was drawn to volleyball when I was about four years old. My older sister, Nicole, had begun playing for a local city team, and I would play with her in the backyard. Years passed, and I continued to watch my sister with awe. I spent every Wednesday evening watching her varsity high school games, and I begged to accompany her to every club tournament she had. At the age of nine, I moved from the crowd to the court. I joined my local club team, and since then, I have played each year. I’ve served as team captain three times, co-captain and once, and won three awards through my club. I have played each position competitively, but ultimately I find myself most at home as a libero. Volleyball has been such an integral part of my life growing up, and it’s brought me so many blessings. The sport provides me a way to exercise, mentally decompress, and socialize. No matter how bad a week I’m having, I always know that I can run back to the court. My worries melt away, and suddenly the only thing that feels important is getting the ball in the air. Volleyball has developed my leadership skills, my teamwork, and my integrity. It’s been my safe place when all else feels wrong. It has shaped who I am today. At the age of fifteen, I started to search for local volunteer positions, and latched onto one particular option: The United States Youth Volleyball League. With how much volleyball has impacted me, I know how vital programs like the USYVL are for community and growth. I’ve now coached for three years, working with kids between the ages of nine and fifteen. Many of the kids that I coach have stayed with me throughout the years, and watching them grow has been so rewarding. It’s not just about getting their first serve over or making a good block. As fun as it is to watch them grow their skill, nothing is quite like watching them experience a change in character. One of my particular players, Brooke, comes to mind. Brooke has been playing on my team for three years. She’s not the tallest kid and she doesn’t have a killer serve. She’s pretty average in terms of skill. What makes Brooke stand out to me is how she shows up to every single practice, always on time and ready to work. Last year, Brooke got pushed up to play with my thirteens through fifteens team. She was eleven, and over a foot shorter than the other kids. Brooke could’ve complained about her disadvantage or whined about net height, but she never did. Brooke worked harder than I had ever seen her do before, taking the challenge as an opportunity. She was timid and quiet when I first met her, but by the end of last year, she was the loudest kid on the team, and a clear leader. I made her a team captain, and she fearlessly commanded kids who were up to four years older than her. Going into college, I’m eager to continue my journey with volleyball on the court and as a coach. My experiences have taught me the value of perseverance, teamwork, and leadership, and I’m committed to inspiring these qualities in the athletes I mentor. I hope to create a supportive environment where players can thrive and develop not just as athletes, but as individuals. Volleyball has taught me so much, and I’m excited to give back by empowering the next generation to find their own direction through the sport.

I started cracking when I was twelve. I would wake up each morning with a weight on my chest, and I found myself physically incapable of getting out of bed, but I told myself I was just lazy. My declining grades were because I wasn’t smart enough to keep up. My mood swung like a pendulum, but I followed in the footsteps of family members and blamed it on attitude problems. Voices began to follow me, ones I didn’t recognize, but that was put down to a creative imagination. The scars on my arms were a form of attention-seeking. When I turned fourteen, my lips turned white. My cracks were turning to splinters. First I was just a little dizzy when I sat up, then came migraines and blackouts when I got to my feet. I couldn’t stay awake in classes, struggled to be socially present, and even collapsed without warning at times. But that’s just because I needed to eat better, right? By sixteen, I was cleanly broken. After four years of trying to fix the shattered mosaic of my life alone, I visited a hematologist and was diagnosed with severe anemia and PMDD due to a lack of iron and hormonal imbalances. Premenstrual dysphoric disorder causes severe irritability, depression, and anxiety in the two weeks leading up to a girl’s period. PMDD was responsible for my erratic emotions and turbulence, and the iron deficiency explained my exhausted state. I began treatment at once, choking down pungent pills regularly. But medicine can’t fix everything; I still had to work hard to learn control. PMDD affected the depression, anxiety, and hallucinations that I already struggled with, but it wasn’t the sole cause. Life circumstances, including the pandemic and struggling through familial relation- ships, caused their own turmoil. My dad has struggled for years from sensory addiction, anxiety, and depression, which he passed on to my twin brother. The influence of genetic factors and the daily fight of helping my loved ones while keeping myself afloat was hardly sustainable. I sat through long, tearful, crushing therapy sessions that forced me to face my problems, and ultimately, I found direction. I fought daily to get up, persevere, and make my shards shimmer. I stayed awake through classes, I started making friends and leaving the house, and felt my mind clearing. I was in charge of my life again, and I was determined to turn my glass pieces into something powerfully elegant. Ambition abounding, I threw myself into junior year with vigor, doubling my class load and taking advanced sciences to form a foundation for the love of nursing that I had formed during my time in the hematology clinic for PMDD and anemia. My experiences inspired me to study science on a deeper level and pursue education outside of the classroom, whether that be backyard experiments or research articles. Overcoming my challenges has fostered my passion for learning, taught me resilience, and strengthened my desire to be a nurse. I ground my glass into gemstones, turning my future into a shining sky of opalite. Now, I can’t wait to see what stones I’ll cut and polish in the challenges ahead.

The cheers of the stadium were so loud my ears couldn't fully comprehend them. It was as if the noise crackled, like an old radio trying to find a signal. It was the first night in LA, the last leg of the Eras tour before her eleventh studio album, The Tortured Poets Department, would be added to the set list. Many people would consider it bad luck that they missed TTPD, and while I would have loved to see that performance, I can't say I regret attending the Eras Tour on the night that I did. Certain songs were removed from the set list to make room for TTPD, including the most emotional performance of the entire night: Tolerate It. At the time, I had never so much as held a boy's hand romantically. I sang along to a lot of the songs without full understanding of the emotions being painted. Tolerate It wasn't like that. Taylor introduced her new pianist to us, and the crowd quieted down as the woman began playing soft, melodic notes. Taylor made her way to a table and began to set it with care and precision. She grabbed the mic from a drawer, and the piano transitioned beautifully into Taylor's next song. The crowd erupted with screams again as Raphael Thomas entered the stage. The acting in this performance was jaw-dropping. Taylor's desperation and Raphael's indifference couldn't have been more clear. I sang along to this song louder than any other that night, feeling my heart ache along with Taylor as I yelled, "If it's all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow... I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it." Even though I had never been in a romantic relationship, this type of pain echoed back to so many of my past and current friendships. I'm an empath, and the type of person who will do whatever it takes to avoid conflict with loved ones. All too many times I have laid down my comfort, my time, and my effort to keep those I care about in the spotlight, and all too many times I have been overlooked and taken advantage of because of it. To this day, I am reminded of the performance every time I listen to the song. I've spent more nights than I'm proud of, crying in my bed and whispering the lyrics as my headphones blast the heartbreaking lyrics. Taylor has the amazing ability to take a story and fill it with such deep emotion and relatability that the minor differences in plot don't matter. Every spike of pain was felt, but along with that was the liberation we found together. Taylor's songs have helped me break free and leave relationships in ruin, take the dagger in me and remove it, gain the weight of someone and lose it. Believe me, I can do it. Through Taylor Swift's heart-stopping performance of Tolerate It, I discovered a reflection of my own experiences with empathy and the pains of unreciprocated emotional investment. Her music has been a guiding light, helping me navigate the complexities of relationships and giving me the strength to recognize my worth. Taylor's ability to transform personal pain into universal art has provided me solace during my darkest moments and inspired me to power forward with hope and resilience. Thank you, Taylor. You've truly changed my life.

There was a needle in my hand and a bag of iron supplement by my side when I first felt called to nursing. Due to a condition I was born with, I had been losing large amounts of blood and was suffering from anemia. I was put on iron pills and I received two transfusions, each an hour long. It was during my second transfusion that a nurse approached and offered an ice pack and a warm blanket. I declined as I listened to the sounds of the patient in the room over throwing up and crying. Even though I was in pain, I thought her time would be better spent on them. But she gave me a knowing smile and brought the two items for me anyway. When I saw the compassion in her eyes, I realized there was no better way to serve others than to be the guiding hand for someone during their best and worst days. I returned home that day and began to research different colleges and internship programs around me. I expressed my interests to my mom, and she recommended I try to get a position as a volunteer at our local hospital, Henry Mayo Newhall. In the past year, I’ve served in the med-surg unit, the labor and delivery unit, and the gift shop. Of these, the med-surg floor was the most diverse and demanding floor that I served on, but it is also where I gained one of my favorite and formative memories. It was early in the morning on Valentine’s day when I knocked on the door to my next patient’s room. Most of the time, the patients were either asleep or could not understand me, and not being able to interact with them made me feel like I wasn’t making any impact. I pulled back the curtain to find a woman and her sister. The patient was asleep, but her sister stood and approached me with a big smile. I offered her water and blankets, but she shook her head good-naturedly and instead guided me over to a table filled with roses. She picked up one of the flowers and held it out to me, whispering how thankful she was for the comfort and care I brought to people. As the woman embraced me, I felt my heart soften with joy and relief. To know that I could make a difference for even one person meant the world to me, and I returned to my work with renewed vigor. People are my passion, and nursing is my calling to serve them to the best of my abilities. In preparation, I have pushed myself in my academics to form a solid foundation. I set up my classes to challenge and prepare me for my future aspirations. In my junior year, I studied AP Biology on my own to give myself a thorough preparation for Anatomy and Physiology, which I am studying this year. I also decided to take Statistics and Psychology. All three of these classes have ended up being some of my favorites, furthering my confidence to pursue healthcare. As I lay the path for my journey towards success in the nursing community, I am committed to serving my future patients with empathy, expertise, and confidence. A robust program with an emphasis on research and academic excellence will equip me care for individuals and uplift communities. I am excited to bring my ambition, dedication, and compassion to the college world, confident that my studies will enable me to make a meaningful difference in the lives of those I serve.