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.

“As he [Dorian] was turning the handle of the door, his eye fell upon the portrait Basil Hallward had painted of him. He started back as if in surprise. Then he went on into his own room, looking somewhat puzzled. After he had taken the buttonhole out of his coat, he seemed to hesitate. Finally he came back, went over to the picture, and examined it. In the dim arrested light that struggled through the cream-coloured silk blinds, the face appeared to him to be a little changed. The expression looked different. One would have said that there was a touch of cruelty in the mouth. It was certainly strange” (The Picture of Dorain Gray, pg. 87). The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde follows the character Dorian Gray, a model who sells his soul in order to retain his youth and beauty forever. His soul then animates a painting done of him by the artist Basil Hallward. As Dorian begins to behave without a care for morals, his portrait deteriorates over time, reflecting the demise of his soul with each action. “He would examine it [the portrait] in a few moments... It would reveal to him his own soul” (pg. 88). Oscar Wilde is observing hedonism in this novel, and challenges readers to reconcile with their mistakes. The first time Dorian sees his portrait change, he is startled and slightly upset. The change occurs after he treats Sybill Vane poorly. He decides that he will go back and apologize to her the next day, showing some self-awareness and remorse. When he finds out that she took her own life, he decides to take Harry’s advice and lead a life of carelessness rather than struggle with his guilt. “So I have murdered Sibyl Vane... yet the roses are not less lovely for all that” (Pg. 100)This first change shows the slight difference in his portrait, the cruel set to his lips, that foreshadows Dorian’s spiral. Wilde sets this scene well, with the “dim arrested light” and overall dark mood. This novel examines the process of self-destruction we undergo when we refuse to acknowledge our sins. It is a chilling reminder of our need for repentance, and what we reap when we remain unapologetic. Dorain is convinced by his friend, Lord Henry Wotton, to adopt a hedonistic lifestyle through the guidance of the infamous yellow book. Harry lives by the idea that “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself…” (pg. 21). Dorian takes Harry’s advice to heart and becomes a monster because of it. He treats a Sybill Vane, the girl he once he intended to marry, with cruelty, becomes careless of how he treats his neighbors, and at the end the book, murders his friend Basil Hallward. This novel follows this spiral– Dorain remains young and beautiful, while his portrait deteriorates and becomes ugly, reflecting the state of his soul. In the end, Dorian’s guilt overwhelms him and he tears the portrait apart, killing himself in the process. The idea of living without regret is a popular idea in our culture, but ultimately such a lifestyle will only lead to pain and regret, not the promised carefree happiness. The Picture of Dorian Gray challenges readers to resist temptation and find a deeper meaning to life, and to accept their shortcomings and reconcile with them when they inevitably occur, and provides a chilling reminder of the consequences that will occur if one instead chooses to find value in hedonic wellbeing.

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.

Leaves crunch softly underneath my feet as I stalk through the woods, the mural around me revealing the most lovely depiction of death. As nature withers away, Libra and I come to life. The sun grows weary, and new animals begin to prowl our favorite hunting grounds. We track the deer, following the prints and snapped branches to find our treasure. The bubbling of a creek conceals our footsteps as Libra positions herself to take down the exquisite creature. I watch, breath held as she slowly strings an arrow and pulls her shoulders back. The stillness she achieves could only be captured by someone of great experience. Her silver eyes follow every movement of the deer, no matter how slight. A strand of her strawberry hair blows across her face, but she remains unfazed. The deer looks up, but before it can see us, Libra releases her arrow and– “Dinner!” Mom calls. I blink and sigh, watching the forest fade away along with my friend. I shut my computer and put away my notes, but threads of the tale still linger in my head. Some hobbies have an on and off switch. Writing isn’t like that for me. When I’m not scribbling down plot points or busting my computer keys, my mind latches onto tiny details: lyrics, broken branches, names– everything! My ideas are most rampant when I’m hiking or taking a nature walk. As I climb through rocks and wade in rivers, I hear the whispers of new friends in the wind and the laughter of old companions sitting in trees. Some of my favorite memories are made at Lake Tahoe, where I can sit with a pen and notebook in hand while the water kisses my feet. Writing isn’t just a fun activity for me. When I curl up in my favorite chair to draft, my mind clears and I find the space to reflect. My novels bring me comfort, clarity, and an outlet to process. With the transition to college in my near future, I find a sense of calm in knowing that even with all the changes I'll experience, I will have a retreat in my writing. In college, I hope to continue writing every day, take classes in to improve my style and world building technique, and work towards getting my own book published. With every pen stroke and key click, I find more than a world of my making. I find the courage to examine the world with creativity and hope.