Being a first-generation student means being a bridge. Bridges ease people's journeys and carry the their weight as they walk across. Some bridges are symbols of pride, and despite their grandeur, a bridge must stand on its own and support itself. It must be resilient. That's what being a first-generation student means to me. I've always loved literature and school, and I knew I wanted to go to university. To my family of diasporic Puerto Ricans and their descendants, it was an expectation; I needed to succeed because they sacrificed everything so I could have a decent education. I was not prepared for how difficult it would be. My initial thought was to join the military so I could afford college, so that's what I did. I enlisted in the Navy in 2018. I started noticing something was off with my vision that summer, though, and I withdrew my contract before I began basic training so I could see a few specialists. In July 2019, I found out I was going blind. My family didn't know how to help me, and I didn't know how to help myself. This was not the burden of paycheck-to-paycheck living, food rationing, or a language barrier. This was something else. What I did know was that I didn't want to be complacent, so I applied to community college. I wanted a better future for myself, especially since I now had to build one from scratch and with a life-altering disability. So I built resilience. I read the fine print, did the research for FAFSA, made the awkward but necessary phone calls to my advisors and the financial aid department, and I found jobs and internships that paid. I eventually made it to a university to finish my undergraduate degree in English Literature. I've had no financial support from my family, no guidance for my condition or specialists near me who could help, and I'm legally blind now. And yet, I persist. I'm getting my Masters' in Library and Information Sciences (MLIS). I chose library sciences because access to information became something I was passionate about. I want to give back to my community that was built on diasporic history and sacrifice and cultural expectations. I dream of being an advocate for those who find higher education difficult to access, and I want to be their bridge. Being that bridge has some serious financial considerations, though. Graduate school does not afford me the same financial aid opportunities undergraduate school did. I pay my tuition out-of-pocket because I simply cannot afford loans at their current interest rate. It's a fine line I walk considering my medical needs. A scholarship like this would mean I wouldn't have to cut corners and choose between my medical needs or my education. I've gotten this far blindly building a bridge in uncertainty. With your support, I can make the bridge stronger because it means I can continue breaking the generational cycle of sacrifice over education.

1. I'm a recent TXT fan. I discovered them about a year ago in July 2025. I was doomscrolling and came across a YouTube short about Yeonjun and P1Harmony's Keeho wearing a shirt that said, "I did what last night?" This led me down a rabbit hole of trying to figure out what it meant, which naturally peaked my interest enough to listen to TXT's discography and, well, the rest is history. 2. I believe the most important characteristic of a MOA is authenticity. From what I can tell, TXT has remained true to themselves. Their concepts are always story-driven, their music videos are a little longer than most (I'm looking at you "Magic Island"), and their personalities are distinct but steady. I've never once questioned who I was listening to or what I was watching when it came to their music and content, and MOAs should reflect that. 3. I only recently started (softly) biasing Yeonjun. I'm not going to lie, the Parenting Diaries have been a joy to watch, especially how Yu Jun and Yeonjun interact. I'm ultimately an OT5, though. I think every member has put in the effort to be amazing dancers and singers, and they each have distinctive personalities that I find appealing. 4. Perhaps shockingly, my ult bias of any group is Lee Know from Stray Kids. He's a cat dad (I have five cats of my own that I rescued, and I admire his open affection for his cats), he's a little weird in a way I relate to and find endearing, but he's also capable of conveying real vulnerability that I admire. 5. Maybe you guessed it from earlier, but my favorite TXT song is "Magic Island." I'm a huge fan of the Star Seekers storyline, and fantasy in general appeals to me. In many ways, the song reminds me of books I love like "The Little Prince" that explores the inner conflicts of facing reality and holding on to dreams the same way "Magic Island" does. The song just resonates with me in a way that literature does, and that's high praise coming from me. 6. I've never had a real chance to see TXT live, though I would like the opportunity if I could ever afford it. 7. My favorite album concept is (perhaps unsurprisingly) the "Dream Chapter: Magic". The exploration of growth and identity with fantasy themes really struck a chord in me as it's something I lean towards in literature, and the lyricism and instrumentals were, well...dream-like to me. It made me feel nostalgic in the best ways. 8. I pay for school out of my own pocket. It's usually through payment plans, and I have a tiny scholarship, but things have gotten more difficult. I have a disability, and it stems from a chronic degenerative disease that is incurable. I'm desperate to not take a loan as I fear that will bury me in debt I'll never be able to pay back. 9. My primary concern with my finances is that I have to cut corners somewhere in my future. If I prioritize school, I sacrifice necessary appointments I need in order to tend to my condition. If I go to all my appointments and prioritize my physical health, I sacrifice my mental health and schooling. I just can't afford both. A scholarship like this would ease the burden just enough to let me finish my grad program and go to my appointments. 10. TXT has provided me equal amounts of comfort and strength. Their music acts as an emotional conduit for me by capturing emotions I find difficult to put into words. If I ever got the chance to meet them, I'm unsure of how to convey my gratitude for the gift they give their listeners in their willingness to perform for us, even when they struggle. 11. I'm a student of Library and Information Science, and I intend on being a librarian. In a world that consistently seeks to silence people's voices, I hope to promote, advocate for, and support everyone's rights to information and to have their stories told, as well as preserve the relics of voices no longer heard.

My earliest memory is a visual one. I see an image of my name written on a piece of paper in the dining area of the apartment my family and I lived in at the time. It was a small apartment, with only three bedrooms for six people. We had a small table where we ate our meals, and it was there that I sat when I first wrote my name. It’s a memory I think of often now that I know I’m going blind. Ironically, blindness is often associated with ignorance, typically of the willful nature like Oedipus from Oedipus Rex. Being diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa–a chronic, degenerative eye disease–in 2019 made me irrationally afraid that I would become ignorant to the world around me. I didn’t want to be an Oedipus, suddenly giving up most of my independence and a career I wanted in medicine was mentally debilitating. I felt infantilized and incapable compared to the able-bodied person I once was. By 2020, I was declared legally blind, told I couldn't drive, and I felt helpless. I had no money, I had no significant work experience, and now I didn’t even have the entirety of my five senses. It was hard to go from believing I was completely able-bodied to suddenly being cut off from a life I once knew. I read a quote sometime after my diagnosis. It was from Ray Bradbury, and it stated, “I don’t believe in colleges or universities…I believe in Libraries.” Bradbury’s statement struck a chord in me. As someone who grew up in a low-income household with a parent that didn’t even graduate highschool, a four-year degree seemed like something beyond what I could do. It reminded me that my diagnosis wasn’t the first time I felt helpless. Despite poverty and disability, I always had access to a library. My lack of wealth and degrading vision didn’t negate the hours I spent learning in one. I realized I was becoming an Oedipus, choosing to be ignorant and metaphorically blinding myself to what I could do with what I had. It wasn’t about loss, but about adapting, and so I opted to embrace opportunity. I attended community college, and after completing my Associates of Arts degree, I transferred to the University of Central Florida (UCF) in the summer of 2021 and majored in English literature. In doing so, I was given the opportunity to present at the American-Russian Symposium, an event that English literature students at UCF were invited to participate in. I presented an essay that analyzed the local nuances of the Old South as represented in William Faulkner’s short stories and how they relate more universal themes. It became evident to me that I enjoyed doing research, so I pursued the opportunity to write an Honors Undergraduate Thesis. I conducted research on representations of disability in literature and completed my thesis in Spring 2023, which coincided with my Library of Congress Internship (LOCI) that I attended from January through May of 2023. I was adapting, and I no longer felt helpless. I made the Dean’s List every semester I was a full-time student at UCF, and I graduated with honors in my major in Spring 2023. Now I'm a student at Simmons University studying for the Masters of Library and Information Science (MLIS) degree, an expensive endeavor I'm attempting to do without loans. A scholarship like this would alleviate the weight of deciding between necessary medical appointments or continuing my education. I would no longer feel the need to cut corners on my future, and that would mean everything.