Biology has been my favorite subject for nearly a decade. I recall spending my summers watching BrainPop video after BrainPop video on the human body and disease. I was in awe of the many ways in which the smaller threads of life intertwined to form such a complicated web. Despite being strong enough to withstand most every day challenges, sometimes the slightest blip could cause it all to unravel and result in disease. It was only natural, then, that I'd strive to become a pathologist. I want to be involved in the diagnosis of diseases as a physician. But getting an MD isn't enough for me. I want to pursue a PhD so that I conduct research on the causes, progression, and effects of disease as a scientist. As of now, the disease I want to study most with my future MD/Ph.D. is malaria. It is the in the top three leading infectious causes of death in children under the age of five worldwide. Every year, over 200 million people are infected with malaria, of which approximately half a million will die. Many more will experience lifelong effects. In the summer after my junior year of high school, I pursued a research project in which I genetically engineered chimeric antibodies that can be used for co-labeling multiple malaria parasite proteins during the red blood cell stage of infection. But in the future I want to focus on studying the liver stage of malaria, which is an asymptomatic stage where the parasite undergoes its mass replication. My goal is to do research to better understand how malaria thrives in the liver. That way, scientists can discover more ways to hinder malaria’s progression before the patient ever becomes afflicted with symptoms. Malaria may be an “out of sight, out of mind” problem for many, but for the millions of people affected by it, it is a health burden that has lasted for far too long. Not to mention, it is a disease that overwhelmingly affects developing countries. With my degrees, I hope to study diseases like malaria that overwhelmingly harm overlooked and underserved communities. Being a Black woman in STEM has also made me doubt my own abilities. Sometimes I worry that the praise I have received all my life has only been due to me surpassing people’s bare minimum standards of my intellect as a Black woman. But it has also fueled me with a desire to prove the naysayers wrong. I want to pursue medicine, but since less than 3% of US doctors are Black women, I know I’m going to be in a space where people like me are not expected to succeed. Even with all the disadvantages against me, I want to be a trailblazer whose research makes a difference in the world, no matter how small. My greatest wish is to become a person worth aspiring to. I want to be a role model for anyone who feels daunted entering a field with so few people resembling them. But more than anything, I don’t want my achievements to have an asterisk attached to it. I don't just want to be the first Black woman. I want to be the first.

Ever since my parents came to this country from Ghana, all they have wanted was for their children to get a good education and succeed. They impressed upon us the abundance of opportunity the United States held for us, and how education would be the key to unlock any closed door. Good grades were an expectation, a standard. Excellence was merely the status quo. And so excel I did. The alternative simply did not exist. If I wanted to have any chance of a future, if I wanted my parents to be proud of me, to love me, I needed to achieve academic excellence. Since I was four years old, I wanted to become a doctor because I wanted to help people. However, this was compounded by the desire to make my parents proud. I knew that becoming a doctor was the dream many immigrant parents had for their children, so I wanted to do everything in my power to make it a reality. But as I moved forward in school, I learned more about the possibilities of the world. I developed a passion for studying diseases and the human body. Now I didn’t just want to become a doctor to help people. I wanted to pursue medicine out of genuine curiosity for all its mysteries. All of a sudden, I had my own dreams to work towards. I wanted to make myself proud. And for the longest time, I thought that came from being number one. When I became valedictorian in high school, I thought that I would finally feel satisfied with myself. But after high school, I realize I will not be fulfilled living a life of competition. I got tired of equating my grades to my self worth. Of seeing anything less than excellence as failure. Of constantly trying to justify my existence based on numbers. Now I am no longer obsessed with being the best. I simply want to be my best, which for me, involves becoming a pathologist with an MD/PhD, who studies diseases that disproportionately affect underserved communities. If I could be anyone for a day, it would be my mother. She works tirelessly, both outside the home and in. If I could be her for a day, I would treat her to the luxuries she would never allow herself to have. I would sleep in for as long as I want, and make my siblings take on the house work so that my mother’s body would not have to endure any work that day. I would then have a spa day so that her body could experience pleasure and relief from its everyday stressors (paid for with my own money, of course). I would do everything in my power to make sure that my mother felt like a queen the next day when her consciousness returned back to her own body.

I, Nirel Ayertey, Have dreams Dreams to become a physician scientist Dual wielding an MD in one hand and a PhD in the other To study the causes, progression and effects of diseases Dreams to do research so great it ends up in textbooks So that I may leave an indelible mark on this Earth Something greater than myself Dreams so big that I want them to outlast me. No, I need them to outlast me. NO. They WILL outlast me. Dreams too bold and daring And seemingly out of reach For someone like me And made all the more enticing for it Dreams so big that they aren't made for this body This Black woman Who’s future career has less than 3% of people like her Dreams so big that they leak from my eyes sometimes When life gets too overwhelming And I am forced to contemplate whether they are dreams made for a fool Dreams so big they are the yin and the yang The darkness and the light The calm and the storm The quiet and the loud And everything in between And everything, period. Dreams so big that from now until the day I die Everything I do Is for that dream Dreams so big that they have consumed me Seeping into everything I have done Taking over everything I am And all I intend to be Dreams so big that they are ME. I am those dreams. I am THE DREAM. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I have wanted to be a doctor since I was four years old. This is all great news for my parents, who are both immigrants from Ghana. They have worked tirelessly to try and create a better future for my siblings and I. My dad, who for over a decade regularly worked 80 hours a week. And my mother, who did not even make it to high school. Who for years was a stay at home mom, with nothing but her incredible ability to sew dresses as a source of meager income. Who, even after finally getting a job, still never stopped putting her children first. For them to see their daughter in a well respected and lucrative job would make all their sacrifices worth it. And so my dream became their dream. Our dream. When I was fourteen, my sister was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia. After a bone marrow transplant, she developed Graft vs Host disease and suffered from multiple infections. Thankfully, she has recovered. But her experience has only deepened my ambition. I had decided to become a pathologist and study diseases because I found the word in the book and, upon looking it up, thought it was a cool job. But now, I want to be a pathologist because I have seen firsthand how a disease can wreak havoc on an unsuspecting soul. How its insidious symptoms can progress into a life-threatening illness. How its origins can stump even trained doctors. How it can defy expectations. And how, most of all, doctors can treat these diseases in spite of all the mysteries surrounding them. It is because I have seen all this in my sister that I can truly appreciate the complexity of disease and the medical field. I know I will be spending many years of my life pursuing an MD/PhD and becoming a pathologist. It will not be easy. And it may be a challenge greater than I have ever faced. So it's a good thing that I find it all so profoundly exhilarating.

I am four years old and I have already decided I want to be a doctor. I want to be a doctor simply because I want to help people. I do not know the commitment it takes to be a doctor. I do not understand how many years of schooling it takes to get a medical degree. I have just started school. After all, I am only four years old. I am fourteen years old when my ten year old sister is diagnosed with aplastic anemia. I don’t understand what the doctors mean when they say it’s idiopathic, but learning the word’s definition does nothing to expel my confusion. How could such a devastating disease have an unknown cause? Between my sister’s illness, the occurrence of a global pandemic, and the transition into online school, my mental health took a massive hit. My depression was a nebulous thing, and it was hard for me to even really acknowledge it for what it was. But even when I couldn't name it for what it was, its effects were still significant. There were many times when I questioned whether anything I did was even worthwhile. From the smaller every day things like getting out of bed or doing my homework, to the bigger things, like aspirations I once confidently held. What was the point of being a doctor anyway? What difference could that even make when there will always be things we don't know? I want to be a pathologist because I have seen firsthand how a disease can wreak havoc on an unsuspecting soul. How its insidious symptoms can progress into a life-threatening illness. How its origins can stump even trained doctors. How it can defy expectations. And how, most of all, how crucial getting a proper diagnosis can be, and how that can be the difference between life and death. It is because I have seen all this in my sister that I can truly appreciate the complexity of the disease. When my sister was sick and spent years in and out of the hospital, she became depressed. My first hand witness of her depression will help me become a better doctor because it will allow me to not just look at my patients’ physical illnesses. While pathologists have minimal interactions with patients, I hope to advise the physician who will see these patients to take into account the patients' mental and emotional well-being when delivering diagnoses to them. My experience with depression will also help in my practice as it has taught me to be okay with asking for help. Without the help of my loved ones, my suffering would've been much worse. While there are times where I struggle, I know they always have my back. As a pathologist, I will have to collaborate with other pathologists in the lab, and being able to acknowledge when I can't do everything on my own instead of stubbornly insisting on being independent will make me a better doctor. I am eighteen years old and I still want to be a doctor. But not just any doctor. I want to be a physician scientist. I want to be involved in the research that is done on diseases, and be able to translate that into more effective treatments for the patients I may be diagnosing with the very illness I am studying. I am only eighteen years old, and I know I will be spending many years of my life studying to become a doctor. Some might call it a sacrifice. So it's a good thing that I find medicine profoundly exhilarating.

When I graduate college, I plan on pursuing an MD/Ph.D. With these degrees, I hope to be able to be a pathologist that pursues both clinical medicine and scientific research. A pathologist is someone who studies the nature, causes, and effects of diseases and examines bodily tissues and fluids to do so. There is something that is just so fascinating about the intricacies of disease and the human body that has drawn me to it for years. If I can help people while doing something that I am interested in, I will be immensely satisfied. One disease that intrigues me so much on both a societal and biological level is malaria. It is the in the top three leading infectious causes of death in children under the age of five worldwide. Every year, over 200 million people are infected with malaria, of which approximately half a million will die. Many more will experience lifelong effects. Many of these people who get ill and die are children, very young children. Malaria is most present in developing countries. Over 90% of these cases and deaths are in sub-Saharan Africa. In Ghana, my parents' home country, there were 5.7 million confirmed malaria cases in 2021 alone. Plasmodium, the malaria-causing parasite, starts by going into the liver to replicate itself thousands of times, before infecting the red blood cells. When the parasites are in the red blood cells and begin destroying them, the body’s immune response is activated, and symptoms begin. Cerebral malaria is one of the most severe forms of malaria, and it occurs when infected red blood cells lead to brain swelling. This can result in seizures and coma, often leading to death. Many survivors are left with debilitating long-term effects. There are drugs that are currently able to treat cerebral malaria, but the problem is that these drugs are not very effective, as cerebral malaria still takes hundreds of thousands of lives each year. If it is possible to stop the parasite before it reaches the brain, many young lives could be saved. Plasmodium, in its liver stage, does not cause symptoms while it’s undergoing its mass replication. It steals nutrients from the liver cell to benefit its growth. So if there is a way to stop that from happening, there could be an extremely effective treatment for malaria. As of now, the disease I want to study most with my future MD/Ph.D. is malaria. In the summer of my junior year of high school, I pursued a research project in which I genetically engineered chimeric antibodies that can be used for co-labeling multiple malaria parasite proteins during the red blood cell stage of infection. But my real passion has been studying the liver stage of malaria so that malaria can be effectively stopped before symptoms occur. During high school, I had been designing a project to study different aquaporins that have been implicated in aiding in the malaria parasite's liver stage development by transporting nutrients and waste products. But because I was unable to get a mentor to help in my research plan until the summer of my junior year, I had to change my project into something I could more feasibly complete in such a short time period. I hope to continue with my original research plan as soon as possible. If I win this scholarship, the campus employment portion of my financial aid package will be covered. So instead of spending time working on campus to pay off my college expenses, I can devote as much of my free time as possible to pursuing my true passion: research.

"One of our scientists has asked to schedule an interview with you to discuss a possible mentorship opportunity this summer. Are you still interested in mentorship at Regeneron?" My heart stops and my jaw drops as I try to make sense of the situation. An opportunity that had slipped through my fingers has somehow found its way back to me. I’ve never responded so eagerly to an email in my life. Five weeks later, I see an email from Regeneron. Filled with anticipation and uncharacteristic optimism, I begin to read it. "Unfortunately, you did not match with a mentor for this summer’s program." I’ve never sobbed so inconsolably at an email in my life. The optimism I previously felt makes way for the feeling that I have failed. I am a failure. I read on. "There are many talented students who are not selected for our program and go on to do amazing science." “Then so will I,” I think bitterly, tears still streaming down my face. Once I have reached the bottom of the email, a fire is rekindled in my soul. "We wish you the best of luck finding an enriching mentorship experience." And that's exactly what I do. Eleven months and seventy emails later, I finally secure a mentor, albeit not from Regeneron. Despite my elation, there is a catch: I, a lifelong New Yorker, will be going to San Antonio, Texas for six weeks. While not a major undertaking for some people, it's a big deal for someone whose comfort zone is the size of her wingspan. I’ve never been away from my family for more than a night, much less six weeks. Although my trepidation is intense, my ambition is stronger. And so I decide to go, simultaneously looking forward to and dreading the upcoming journey. My first hurdle is a solo flight, one of my biggest worries. But navigating the airport alone isn’t as terrible as I’d imagined. Even though asking for directions makes my palms sweat and my stomach flip, I manage. Before I know it, I've adapted to my parents’ absence, and become capable of fending for myself. When I land in Texas, it's with a newfound sense of confidence and independence. Once I actually get to work in the lab, this confidence is put to the test. I see the reality of being a scientist. It is filled with countless setbacks and upsets. And while every mistake I make leads me to question my own competence, I muster the courage to admit to them. Soon, I learn the futility of perfectionism. Mistakes are to be expected, and can even be beneficial to learning if one admits to them. (I end up messing up countless times during my six weeks… For learning purposes, of course). Before I know it, six weeks fly by. The anxious little girl longing to return to her family is no more. In her wake is a (still) anxious adolescent, but one who is better at persevering in spite of it. I’ve evolved into an independent young woman who can confidently present to scientists that far surpass her in age and experience. I'm a scientist who has written over 8,000 words on her project detailing the generation of chimeric antibodies for immunofluorescence assays. I’m a former perfectionist, who has finally learned to deal with shortcomings without equating them to her self-worth. I’m someone who understands that success is not the absence of failure, nor is it measured by how easily one achieves a goal. It is simply the refusal to accept failure as the end.

In ninth grade, I was a member of my school’s Audio/Visual Club, Key Club, and Health Occupational Students of America Club. In eleventh grade, I was part of my school’s gardening club, Science Olympiad, Science National Honor Society, and STEMinist club. This year, I am currently a part of Yonkers Partners in Education (YPIE), which I started in ninth grade. I’ve also been a part of the Regeneron Science Research Program offered at YPIE since tenth grade. I am currently still part of STEMinist, Science Olympiad, and rejoined Key Club. I did bell ringing for Salvation Army and gift wrapping at Barnes and Noble on December 14, 2019. I did peer tutoring children at School 23 on March 5, 2020. I helped out at the 9th and 10th-grade Orientation at Yonkers High School on August 25, 2021. I helped make and organize candy grams for a fundraiser for my schools’s gardening club on December 14,15, 21, and 22 in 2021. I regularly volunteered at the community garden on Wendover and Travers Ave and worked on the garden in the school’s atrium during the spring of 2022. I am currently treasurer of my school’s key club, and we are working on a project for Teacher’s Appreciation Week in May. As a part of the Science National Honor Society since my junior year, I have been helping out a science teacher in my school during my free periods for the past two years.

When first reading this question, a myriad of adjectives that had been used to describe me flew through my head. Ambitious. Hardworking. Determined. Smart. But then I realized that these were the qualities that others valued most in me. And while I certainly hold these characteristics of mine in high regard, they just didn't feel like they could take the title of “most valuable”. After thinking long and hard on it, I finally arrived at a rather strange conclusion. But despite how odd it seemed, it felt right. The quality I most value in myself is my sense of humor. My sophomore year of high school was probably the hardest year of my life. Online school wasn't fun, especially since I was taking my first AP classes. My sister was in the hospital. I began experiencing depressive symptoms for the first time. All in all it amounted to a pretty crummy year. But all along the way, I'd find some way to joke about it. I comically complained with my friends about AP Chemistry. I’d call my sister in the hospital and talk about nothing and everything at the same time, trying my best to keep the conversation lighthearted and funny. When the depression was rearing its ugly head, I'd kid with my brother, the only person I felt truly understood me, about how horrible I felt. Not to say that this always worked. There were times where the circumstances were simply too much to handle. Times when being funny wasn't enough to cope. Even so, my sense of humor made the year a little more bearable. I know that life will be inevitably harder than tenth grade. And I know that being optimistic won't be enough to get through it. So being able to make light of an unpleasant situation is important in making it through those tough times. I know that I've talked about how making myself laugh is a valuable quality I possess. But I also think that being able to make others laugh is equally, if not more, important than that. I'm very introverted and very few people know about my rather lightheaded and playful nature. To most people, I seem ultra serious and school oriented. That's why I get so happy when I can make someone laugh. It makes me feel like I have more going for me than academics. That I am capable of bringing others joy, even for a fleeting moment. Like my existence has some meaning and I am not just a waste of space (the depression do be hitting sometimes). To me, this is an immensely valuable skill because of the social nature of humans. If we are going to spend the rest of our lives surrounded by other people, we might as well make it as bearable as possible. Being able to make people laugh is important in making their lives a little better. When others are going through a tough time, just being able to coax a laugh out of them can help tremendously. That's been the case for me more times than I can count. And I can count really high. I don't like myself very much. Tried it, but it wasn't for me. But when asked to describe myself, I never fail to mention how unbelievably funny I am. It's the one positive trait that I genuinely believe I possess. When others describe me with all their nice words, I can't help but feel I'm an imposter. But the laughs I've elicited out of myself and others? That's real. Undeniable. Uncountable. And I can count really high.

"One of our scientists has asked to schedule an interview with you to discuss a possible mentorship opportunity this summer. Are you still interested in mentorship at Regeneron?" I'm stunned as I try to make sense of the situation. An opportunity that had slipped through my fingers has somehow found its way back to me. I’ve never responded so eagerly to an email in my life. Five weeks later, I see an email from Regeneron. "Unfortunately, you did not match with a mentor for this summer’s program." I’ve never sobbed so inconsolably at an email in my life. I have failed. I am a failure. I read on. "There are many talented students who are not selected for our program and go on to do amazing science." “Then so will I,” I think bitterly. "We wish you the best of luck finding an enriching mentorship experience." And so I do. Eleven months and seventy emails later, I finally secure a mentor, albeit not from Regeneron. Despite my elation, there is a catch: I, a lifelong New Yorker, will be going to San Antonio, Texas for six weeks. While not a major undertaking for some people, it's a big deal for someone whose comfort zone is the size of her wingspan. I’ve never been away from my family for more than a night, much less six weeks. Although my trepidation is strong, my ambition is stronger. And so I decide to go, simultaneously looking forward to and dreading the upcoming journey. My first hurdle is a solo flight, one of my biggest worries. But navigating through the airport alone isn’t as terrible as I’d imagined. Even though asking for directions makes my palms sweat and my stomach flip, I manage. Before I know it, I've adapted to my parents’ absence, and become capable of fending for myself. When I land in Texas, it's with a newfound sense of confidence and independence. Once I actually get to work in the lab, this confidence is put to the test. When checking if our restriction enzymes (used for genetic engineering) could cut DNA, I accidentally use ten times the amount of DNA needed. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I tell my supervisor about the mistake. He tells me to make another mixture with the correct DNA amount, but to leave the mistake mixture to see what would happen. It turns out that the enzymes could cut ten times the amount of DNA we expected them to, and we would apply this knowledge in the future. From this, I learn the futility of perfectionism. Mistakes are to be expected, and can even be beneficial to learning if one admits to them. (I end up messing up countless times during my six weeks… For learning purposes, of course). Before I know it, six weeks fly by. The anxious little girl longing to return to her family is no more. In her wake is a (still) anxious adolescent, but one who is better at persevering in spite of it. I’ve evolved into an independent young woman who can confidently present to scientists that far surpass her in age and experience. I'm a scientist who has written over 8,000 words on her project detailing the generation of chimeric antibodies for immunofluorescence assays. I’m a former perfectionist, who has finally learned to deal with shortcomings without equating them to her self-worth. I’m someone who understands that success is not the absence of failure, nor is it measured by how easily one achieves a goal. It is simply the refusal to accept failure as the end.

I am four years old and I have already decided I will be a doctor. I want to be a doctor simply because I want to help people. I do not know the commitment it takes to be a doctor. I do not understand how many years of schooling it takes to get a medical degree. I have just started school. I am only four years old. I am fourteen years old. My sister is nine. It is August, and she complains of headaches frequently. We don’t bat an eye, and assume it will go away soon. She takes Tylenol, and it brings temporary reprieve. We think it’s strange, but assume it’s nothing life threatening. Everything is fine. I am fourteen years old. My sister turns ten in October, and gets her period for weeks later.. I’m a little shocked that it’s so early. But me and my mother both got it when we were eleven, so I brushed it off. A little unexpected, but everything is fine. My sister stains the bed. And her clothes. Blood is everywhere. “She’s just a heavy bleeder,” I rationalize, despite never having bled a fraction of the amount she did. A little strange, but everything is fine. My sister’s complaints of headaches worsened. She gets out of breath from minimal physical activity. These things are probably causes for concern. Everything may not be fine. Everything is not fine. My sister goes to the ER. Severely low CBC. “It’s a miracle she’s still conscious.” She’s hospitalized. Diagnosis: idiopathic aplastic anemia. Idiopathic in that its cause is unknown. Aplastic anemia in that her bone marrow has stopped producing blood cells. Everything makes sense now. Her constant bleeding was because of low platelet counts. Her headaches and fatigue were caused by low red blood cell counts. She was expressing symptoms for months, but we ignored them, never assuming the worst. Nothing was ever fine. She gets blood transfusions in the short run, but it won’t be enough. She needs a bone marrow transplant. None of us match. Her life is saved by a stranger in Oklahoma. Her bone marrow is set on taking it away. Graft vs Host Disease is a systemic disorder that occurs when the graft's immune cells recognize the host as foreign and attack the recipient's body cells. It was supposed to last 9-12 months, they say. It lasts 2 years. My sister lasts longer. I want to be a pathologist because I have seen first hand how a disease can wreak havoc on an unsuspecting soul. How its insidious symptoms can progress to life threatening illness. How its origins can stump even trained doctors. How it can defy expectations. And how, most of all, the body can bounce back from it, as if it hadn’t been fighting for its life years before. It is because I have seen all this in my sister that I can truly appreciate the complexity of disease. I am seventeen years old and I have already decided I will be a doctor. I want to be a doctor simply because I want to help people. I know the commitment it takes to be a doctor. I understand how many years of schooling it takes to get a medical degree. I am only seventeen years old, and I will be spending many years of my life studying to become a doctor. Some might call it a sacrifice. So it's a good thing that I find medicine profoundly exhilarating.

I am four years old and I have already decided I will be a doctor. I want to be a doctor simply because I want to help people. I do not know the commitment it takes to be a doctor. I do not understand how many years of schooling it takes to get a medical degree. I have just started school. I am only four years old. I am fourteen years old. My sister is nine. It is August, and she complains of headaches frequently. We don’t bat an eye, and assume it will go away soon. She takes Tylenol, and it brings temporary reprieve. We think it’s strange, but assume it’s nothing life threatening. Everything is fine. I am fourteen years old. My sister turns ten in October, and gets her period for weeks later.. I’m a little shocked that it’s so early. But me and my mother both got it when we were eleven, so I brushed it off. A little unexpected, but everything is fine. My sister stains the bed. And her clothes. Blood is everywhere. “She’s just a heavy bleeder,” I rationalize, despite never having bled a fraction of the amount she did. A little strange, but everything is fine. My sister’s complaints of headaches worsened. She gets out of breath from minimal physical activity. These things are probably causes for concern. Everything may not be fine. Everything is not fine. My sister goes to the ER. Severely low CBC. “It’s a miracle she’s still conscious.” She’s hospitalized. Diagnosis: idiopathic aplastic anemia. Idiopathic in that its cause is unknown. Aplastic anemia in that her bone marrow has stopped producing blood cells. Everything makes sense now. Her constant bleeding was because of low platelet counts. Her headaches and fatigue were caused by low red blood cell counts. She was expressing symptoms for months, but we ignored them, never assuming the worst. Nothing was ever fine. She gets blood transfusions in the short run, but it won’t be enough. She needs a bone marrow transplant. None of us match. Her life is saved by a stranger in Oklahoma. Her bone marrow is set on taking it away. Graft vs Host Disease is a systemic disorder that occurs when the graft's immune cells recognize the host as foreign and attack the recipient's body cells. It was supposed to last 9-12 months, they say. It lasts 2 years. My sister lasts longer. I want to be a pathologist because I have seen first hand how a disease can wreak havoc on an unsuspecting soul. How its insidious symptoms can progress to life threatening illness. How its origins can stump even trained doctors. How it can defy expectations. And how, most of all, the body can bounce back from it, as if it hadn’t been fighting for its life years before. It is because I have seen all this in my sister that I can truly appreciate the complexity of disease. I am seventeen years old and I have already decided I will be a doctor. I want to be a doctor simply because I want to help people. I know the commitment it takes to be a doctor. I understand how many years of schooling it takes to get a medical degree. I am only seventeen years old, and I will be spending many years of my life studying to become a doctor. Some might call it a sacrifice. So it's a good thing that I find medicine profoundly exhilarating.

Title: “The Reflection Remains” Alternatively Titled: “If I Stare into the Abyss Would It Stare Into Me” (from STARSET’s “Diving Bell”) You look in a mirror And you don't like what you see Your reflection glaring back at you You glaring back at you It's disgusting It needs to be destroyed Now And so you do Fracture lines form as quickly as your hatred Blood splatters across the mirror The pain of your fist pales in comparison To the pain in your heart You look in the mirror The reflection remains And staring back at you are two eyes As dark and as endless as the night As an abyss How can something so deep Be so empty The reflection remains. But now with it are all the broken pieces of yourself (The reflection remains) And you don't feel any better than you did before (The reflection remains) Your hands still bleeds (The reflection remains) The shards of glass still embed themselves in you (The reflection remains) Pools of darkness look back at you (The reflection remains) They are overflowing (The reflection remains) And you are forced to confront the fact that You are as every bit as broken And jaded And ruined And fragile And innocent As the reflection that remains