From a very young age, I was well acquainted with abuse and the trauma it causes. My mental state was never the greatest, and I had a hard time coping with life and any struggles thrown at me. Growing up in a home where any tiny mistake could lead to pain, I looked for just about any way to escape. That was when I turned to drawing and began my journey as an artist. Many of my pieces have some sort of representation of trauma or hardship within them. I like to explore the ways I can produce meaningful pieces that convey the way that peoples' mental states affect them and how life goes on around them regardless. The message I try to tell is of how trauma negatively impacts people's lives, and I try to find ways to get past that and heal the wounds that were once open. This piece that I've attached here I've simply called "Mindscape." This piece is representative of what trauma and pain can do to the mind, metaphorically breaking it into pieces. The dark and convoluted colors jumbled up in the broken pieces of the 'mind' show the ways that traumatic experiences can leave one mentally destroyed. The blood moon represents the darkness in one's life that always seems to follow pain and trauma. The slightly blurred eyes on the face represent the way trauma can cause someone to lose sight of what is in the world around them. Black spikes protrude to represent pain and mental duress. Each part of my piece has some sort of representation of trauma, and it all ties together to create a deep melancholy vibe that showcases the way that trauma and abuse affect a person mentally. My purpose in creating art is to share the stories and feelings of those who have experienced trauma such as me. I want to express the pain felt by us, and help to create a place where we can come together and overcome our experiences. Being able to create these pieces and share them with those around me helps me to cope as well, and sharing my story through my art helps me to show a part of myself that may not be easily seen by the blind eye. If I would be able to help even just one person through my art, then that would be enough for me.

The pure, deep note seeps into the audience's ears as I softly play the most beautiful solo. My palm sweats within my bell, but I keep playing, enchanting those around me. The high G gracefully emits from my horn, and everyone holds their breath as it comes to a close. A few seconds of silence continue, and I allow myself to suck in a breath as the audience erupts into applause. My face is shining as I am motioned to stand up, and I hold my horn proudly and smile into the auditorium. As they quiet down, I am motioned to sit back down and prepare to once again begin the next piece as the players around me shuffle pieces of music to the right pages. I first began playing the French Horn in seventh grade at the request of my band teacher. I had previously played the trumpet, but due to a lack of horns, I was asked to switch. I had no idea how much that would change my life as I know it. I fell in love with the horn, and have never stopped playing it. Upon entering high school, I had already surpassed most of the other players who were older than me, and by the time I was a junior, I was the top player in the school. I also joined the marching band and became the mellophone section leader as a junior as well. My ability to play the horn has developed much over the years and I absolutely love playing it. The French Horn is a huge part of my character and I would never give it up, and I look forward to furthering my abilities still into college and beyond.

The pure, deep note seeps into the audience's ears as I softly play the most beautiful solo. My palm sweats within my bell, but I keep playing, enchanting those around me. The high G gracefully emits from my horn, and everyone holds their breath as it comes to a close. A few seconds of silence continue, and I allow myself to suck in a breath as the audience erupts into applause. My face is shining as I am motioned to stand up, and I hold my horn proudly and smile into the auditorium. As they quiet down, I am motioned to sit back down and prepare to once again begin the next piece as the players around me shuffle pieces of music to the right pages. I first began playing the French Horn in seventh grade at the request of my band teacher. I had previously played the trumpet, but due to a lack of horns, I was asked to switch. I had no idea how much that would change my life as I know it. I fell in love with the horn, and have never stopped playing it. Upon entering high school, I had already surpassed most of the other players who were older than me, and by the time I was a junior, I was the top player in the school. I also joined the marching band and became the mellophone section leader as a junior as well. My ability to play the horn has developed much over the years and I absolutely love playing it. The French Horn is a huge part of my character and I would never give it up, and I look forward to furthering my abilities still into college and beyond.

Everyone deserves to be treated as a human being. No one deserves to be discriminated against or treated wrongly just because they are a different ethnicity, have a different gender, or have a different sexual orientation. As a trans male living in this current society in the United States, I can see the discrimination and hatred towards people like me in everyday life. People are refused service, have hate crimes committed against them, and are downgraded just because they don't conform to what this 'society' thinks is right. I think our differences are something that should be celebrated, not pushed down and hated. I deserve to be happy and content in this world, and feel like I'm a part of something, and so does everyone else. We all deserve to feel safe walking through the streets, to be able to be who we are without an ounce of fear residing within our bones. I always push myself to not judge others that I don't know. You never know what they've gone through, or who they really are deep down inside. This society holds such a tight rope on the way people view and act towards each other that it's impossible to tell who someone really is behind their mast of trying to conform. I hope that one day we will be able to tear off these masks and truly show who we all are without fear of consequences. That would truly be a world worth living in; one in which we can all be ourselves.

One piece of art that inspires me is actually a piece I have done myself. I've called it 'Mindscape.' This piece is representative of what traumas can do to a person's mind, and shows hope for overcoming them. It's a piece I'm really proud of making and it makes me feel as if I can continue doing great things, despite all that I have gone through and my past. Being able to create art is something very special to me, and I have been doing it since I was very young. Many of my pieces have some aspect of trauma incorporated into them, as I like to use my art to inspire others to rise above their circumstances and do something amazing despite any horrors they may have gone through. And, for those who haven't experienced trauma, it's my way of showcasing who I am and how I and others like me can accomplish things and be happy and create joy even with our differences.

I wouldn't say I have one specific piece of art that is my favorite, but more a specific sub-group that I absolutely love. My favorite pieces are those of nighttime landscapes. I absolutely love the views and imagery, and the stories and feelings that can be expressed in night scenes. They feel special and almost romantic in the way the hues come together with the dark, moody colors. It's like the picture is holding its breath, the air feels cool to the touch and it's almost like I can reach inside each piece and experience it for myself. Any scene that shows the night sky and includes stars is especially enjoyable to me. Stars have a special way of showing beauty in a piece; they evoke untold emotions and can tell a different story from each angle and with every stroke. I personally have only ever painted one night scene, as I'm not super experienced in painting, but it was one with a starry sky and I absolutely loved the look of it. This is why I love nighttime scenes; the beauty they evoke is almost supernatural, and the unexpected could be hidden behind every stroke.

My favorite book series is Lockwood and Co by Jonathon Stroud. It takes place in an alternative London where ghosts plague the world and need to be dealt with by various agencies. Only children are able to sense the apparitions, so most kids get jobs as agents to eradicate the problem. Lucy Carlyle is the main character, a young teenage girl who is very gifted in listening to ghosts. She joins the Lockwood and Co agency, comprised of Anthony Lockwood, the leader, and George Cubbins, the researcher of the group. As the smallest agency in London and the only one run solely by teenagers, Lockwood and his group face many trials in their journey in eradicating ghosts and attempting to solve the problem. Facing contempt from other, more successful agencies, and stiff rivalries between other agents, the group is constantly on their toes from job to job. There is a large element of mystery in the series in how they try to solve the case of how and why the problem began, as well as figuring out the ways to deal with each individual ghost or set of ghosts at each job they are hired for. There are several betrayals throughout the books, and many mysteries to solve as time passes by, and the more they learn, it seems, the less they know. I personally love this book series because of the constant twists and turns throughout the way, and the perfect balance of supernatural elements and mystery makes for an exciting and compelling read. I would suggest this book to anyone who loves to read and wants a new good book with lots of suspense and mystery.

Down the belt comes, over and over, the shiny silver of the buckle lacerating my skin, bruising the tissue, and slicing through my soul. My desperate cries for solace go unheard as once again he raises his arm to whip my cowering body. He won’t see reason, not even when his wife comes to stop him. He is only distracted for a moment, long enough to shove her across the room into her daughter’s dresser, splintering it at the force. In a swift moment, his attention returns to me, and time freezes as he readies himself to attack once more. One last tackle from a guardian angel of a mother is all it takes for me to flee. Out I ran, shivering and hyperventilating as I trip across the street to the neighbors. I can’t breathe as I wait each agonizing second for them to open the door, fearing for my life that the man I once called my father would come for me. It could have been a few seconds, or it could have been hours, but my screams for help eventually led them to open the door. When the police arrived, all I wanted was to slip away into darkness. My exhaustion overwhelmed me as they checked my injuries for anything life-threatening, and fortunately, they were only flesh wounds. The cameras flashed as everything was documented, and I was finally allowed to rest. I don’t know how long it was that I slept, but when I was awakened, it was so that they could escort me home. I slept on my mother's bed that night; I simply couldn't handle returning to that room. I didn’t want to think about what had happened earlier that evening, and fortunately, my sleep was dreamless. Upon returning to school two days later, it felt as if all eyes were on me. Everywhere I turned, it was as if everyone was staring, judging. They all knew, I thought. I desperately wanted someone to just speak with me, but at the same time, I wished to be left alone. Fortunately, that week was the last of the year, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle. Going through trauma such as this throughout my life, my mental health was never the best. Luckily, this was the last time I was ever attacked by my father, as after that the police finally took him away. Due to all this happening to me, though, I have a hard time trusting people. I never know who might be out to get me or wishes to cause me harm. Logically, something like that is very unlikely to happen, but it doesn't stop me from second-guessing every relationship I have with any other person. One thing that I hope to do is to be able to spread my story through my art. Many of my pieces have themes of trauma and/or healing within them, and I want to be able to help other people with my story. No one should have to feel disconnected and alone due to their mental health and experiences, and I want to be able to help other people like myself.

Down the belt comes, over and over, the shiny silver of the buckle lacerating my skin, bruising the tissue, and slicing through my soul. My desperate cries for solace go unheard as once again he raises his arm to whip my cowering body. He won’t see reason, not even as his wife comes to stop him. He is only distracted for a moment, long enough to shove her across the room into a dresser, splintering it at the force. In a swift moment, his attention returns to me, and time freezes as he readies himself to attack once more. One last tackle from a guardian angel of a mother is all it takes for me to flee. Out I ran, shivering and hyperventilating as I trip across the street to the neighbors. I can’t breathe as I wait each agonizing second for them to open the door, fearing for my life that the man I once called my father would come for me. After seconds that felt like hours, my screams for help were eventually answered. Having been abused nearly to adulthood, it could be very hard to stay positive sometimes. Many times I just felt like giving up, just stopping and ending it all. Fortunately, even with each injury and insult, I always had friends I could turn to. Those who could help me. Those who truly loved and cared for me, unlike any other. This has taught me that in the end, it isn't familiar ties or what may happen to you that truly matters. What really matters, in the end, is the people who are there for you, those who care and are real. So, no matter how difficult it gets, as long as there is someone out there who cares for you, it can get better.

From a very young age, I was well acquainted with abuse and the trauma it causes. My mental state was never the greatest, and I had a hard time coping with life and any struggles thrown at me. Growing up in a home where any tiny mistake could lead to pain, I looked for just about any way to escape. That was when I turned to drawing and began my journey as an artist. Many of my pieces have some sort of representation of trauma or hardship within them. I like to explore the ways I can produce meaningful pieces that convey the way that peoples' mental states affect them and how life goes on around them regardless. The message I try to tell is of how trauma negatively impacts people's lives, and I try to find ways to get past that and heal the wounds that were once open. The first of the pieces that I've attached here I've simply called "Mindscape." This piece is representative of what trauma and pain can do to the mind, metaphorically breaking it into pieces. The dark and convoluted colors jumbled up in the broken pieces of the 'mind' show the ways that traumatic experiences can leave one mentally destroyed. The blood moon represents the darkness in one's life that always seems to follow pain and trauma. The slightly blurred eyes on the face represent the way that when one experiences trauma it can cause them to lose sight of what is in the world around them. Black spikes protrude from the head of the person to represent pain and mental duress. All in all, each part of my piece has some sort of representation of trauma, and it all ties together to create a deep melancholy vibe that showcases the way that trauma and abuse affect a person mentally. My purpose in creating art is to share the stories and feelings of those who have experienced trauma such as me. I want to express the pain felt by all those like me, and help to create a place where we can come together and overcome our experiences. Being able to create these pieces and share them with those around me helps me to cope as well, and sharing my story through my art helps me to show a part of myself that may not be easily seen by the blind eye. If I would be able to help even just one person through my art, then that would be enough for me.

Down the stairs, I walk, a cat adorned by each foot, manuscript in hand. One purrs and rubs against my leg as I submit the finished piece of writing. It's my fifth and final book to the series I'd been working on since pubescence, and I smile as I set down my pencil. An accomplished writer I'd turned into over the years, and I gently pet one of my siamese. My career had taken off after the publication of my first book - a book I'd spent years perfecting, and now, that series had come to a joyous close. My dream in life is to finally publish the book I've been working on for many years and to become an accomplished writer. My idea for this book first came to me in seventh grade, and I've been working on it ever since. I love writing, and one of the things I want most in life is to finally become a published author.

My eyes zoned in on the target; the minuscule white figure perched, ready to dash. In I went, and out he ran - but my speed outmatched that which his bony body could achieve. With a quick swoop, he was in my palms, but he wasn’t appreciative of the gesture, and his small canines quickly broke through my creamy skin. It didn’t take long before he calmed, though - he was truly too weak to fight back, and eventually sunk into the warmth of my chest as I clutched him close. As his siblings watched with callous eyes from the bushes, I carefully carried him to my abode in hopes of reinstating his health and happiness. Unfortunately, his fragile body wasn’t yet capable of ingesting solid foods, as he had gone so long wanting that he simply couldn’t bring himself to eat. I couldn’t just leave him to starve, so I eased him into a rag and gently coerced him into opening his jaws so I could insert the syringe. The chalky white substance wasn’t much, but at least he had something in his stomach, and fortunately, he kept it down. His pointy ears twitched back and forth in harmony with his distrusting blue eyes as he analyzed my movements. Any wrong turn and a small whine would escape his furry lips, but I paid him no heed. It was easily discernible that he was more comfortable in this mysterious place than his previous sweltering desert home. Before long, he relaxed into my caress and fell into a deep slumber. His constant comfort is now what I crave each day, and he cares for me mentally as I once cared for him physically. He has seen me through my worst times, and without him, I would be a different person.

The pure, deep note seeps into the audience's ears as I softly play the most beautiful solo. My palm sweats within my bell, but I keep playing, enchanting those around me. The high G gracefully emits from my horn, and everyone holds their breath as it comes to a close. A few seconds of silence continue, and I allow myself to suck in a breath as the audience erupts into applause. My face is shining as I am motioned to stand up, and I hold my horn proudly and smile into the auditorium. As they quiet down, I am motioned to sit back down and prepare to once again begin the next piece as the players around me shuffle pieces of music to the right pages. I first began playing the French Horn in seventh grade at the request of my band teacher. I had previously played the trumpet, but due to a lack of horn players, I was asked to switch. I had no idea how much that would change my life as I know it. I fell in love with the horn, and have never stopped playing it. Upon entering high school, I had already surpassed most of the other players who were older than me, and by the time I was a junior, I was the top player in the school. I also joined the marching band and became the mellophone section leader as a junior as well. My ability to play the horn has developed much over the years and I absolutely love playing it. The French Horn is a huge part of my character and I would never give it up, and I look forward to furthering my abilities still into college and beyond.

The scientific discovery that I find most important to me is the discovery of how to make chemically subsidized proteins. As a type 1 diabetic, without this discovery, I wouldn't even be alive right now. In 1963, insulin was the first protein to ever be chemically subsidized. Today, it is produced in great quantities to allow millions of others like me to live a normal life like the others around us. I am very grateful to the scientists who were able to make this happen, as without it I would have died at only age 15. It's easy to see why I appreciate this discovery so much, as basically, it's the discovery that allowed me to stay in this world and be who I am without just being another statistic of dead children. That is why the discovery of making chemically subsidized proteins is my favorite scientific discovery in the world.

The pure, deep note seeps into the audience's ears as I gently play the most beautiful solo. My palm sweats within my bell, but I keep playing, enchanting those around me. The high G gracefully emits from my horn, and everyone holds their breath as it comes to a close. A few seconds of silence continue, and I allow myself to suck in a breath as the audience erupts into applause. My face is shining as I am motioned to stand up, and I hold my horn proudly and smile into the auditorium. As they quiet down, I am motioned to sit back down and prepare to once again begin the next piece as the players around me shuffle pieces of music to the correct pages. I first began playing the French Horn in seventh grade at the request of my band teacher. I had previously played the trumpet, but due to a lack of horn players in the school, I was asked to switch instruments. I had no idea how much that would change my life as I know it. I fell in love with the horn, and have never stopped playing it. Upon entering high school, I had already surpassed most of the other players who were older than me, and by the time I was a junior, I was the top player in the school. I also joined the marching band and became the mellophone section leader as a junior as well. My ability to play the horn has developed much over the years and I absolutely love playing it. The French Horn is a huge part of my character and I would never give it up, and I look forward to furthering my abilities still into college and beyond. Being able to play the horn brings me joy and wonder, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

From a very young age, I was well acquainted with abuse and the trauma it causes. My mental state was never the greatest, and I had a hard time coping with life and any struggles thrown at me. Growing up in a home where any tiny mistake could lead to pain, I looked for just about any way to escape. That was when I turned to drawing and began my journey as an artist. Many of my pieces have some sort of representation of trauma or hardship within them. I like to explore the ways I can produce meaningful pieces that convey the way that peoples' mental states affect them and how life goes on around them regardless. The message I try to tell is of how trauma negatively impacts people's lives, and I try to find ways to get past that and heal the wounds that were once open. This piece that I've attached here I've simply called "Mindscape." This piece is representative of what trauma and pain can do to the mind, metaphorically breaking it into pieces. The dark and convoluted colors jumbled up in the broken pieces of the 'mind' show the ways that traumatic experiences can leave one mentally destroyed. The blood moon represents the darkness in one's life that always seems to follow pain and trauma. The slightly blurred eyes on the face represent the way that when one experiences trauma it can cause them to lose sight of what is in the world around them. Black spikes protrude from the head of the person to represent pain and mental duress. All in all, each part of my piece has some sort of representation of trauma, and it all ties together to create a deep melancholy vibe that showcases the way that trauma and abuse affect a person mentally. My purpose in creating art is to share the stories and feelings of those who have experienced trauma such as me. I want to express the pain felt by all those like me, and help to create a place where we can come together and overcome our experiences. Being able to create these pieces and share them with those around me helps me to cope as well, and sharing my story through my art helps me to show a part of myself that may not be easily seen by the blind eye. If I would be able to help even just one person through my art, then that would be enough for me.

From a very young age, I was well acquainted with abuse and the trauma it causes. My mental state was never the greatest, and I had a hard time coping with life and any struggles thrown at me. Growing up in a home where any mistake could lead to pain, I looked for any way to escape. That was when I turned to drawing and began my journey as an artist. Many of my pieces have some sort of representation of trauma or hardship within them. I like to explore the ways I can produce meaningful pieces that convey the way that peoples' mental states affect them and how life goes on around them regardless. The message I try to tell is of how trauma negatively impacts people's lives, and I try to find ways to get past that and heal the wounds that were once open. The first of these two pieces I've attached here I've simply called "Mindscape." This piece is representative of what trauma and pain does to the mind, metaphorically breaking it into pieces. The dark and convoluted colors jumbled up in the broken pieces of the 'mind' show the ways that traumatic experiences can leave one mentally destroyed. The blood moon represents the darkness in one's life that always seems to follow pain and trauma. My purpose in creating art is to share the stories and feelings of those who have experienced trauma such as me. I want to express the pain felt by all those like me, and help to create a place where we can come together and overcome our experiences. That is why I do what I do; that is why I draw.

Down the belt comes, over and over, the shiny silver of the buckle lacerating my skin, bruising the tissue, and slicing through my soul. My desperate cries for solace go unheard as once again he raises his arm to whip my cowering body. He won’t see reason, not even as his wife comes to stop him. He is only distracted for a moment, long enough to shove her across the room into her daughter’s dresser, splintering it at the force. In a swift moment his attention returns to me, and time freezes as he readies himself to attack once more. One last tackle from a guardian angel of a mother is all it takes for me to flee. Out I ran, shivering and hyperventilating as I trip across the street to the neighbors. I can’t breathe as I wait each agonizing second for them to open the door, fearing for my life that the man I once called my father would come for me. It could have been a few seconds, or it could have been hours; my frantic mind had no way to distinct time, but my screams for help eventually led them to open the door. When the police arrived, all I wanted was to slip away into darkness. My exhaustion overwhelmed me as they checked my injuries for anything life-threatening, and fortunately they were only flesh wounds. The cameras flashed as everything was documented, and I was finally allowed to rest. I don’t know how long it was that I slept, but when I was awakened, it was so that they could escort me home. I slept on my mothers bed that night; I simply couldn't handle returning to that room. I didn’t want to think about what had happened earlier that evening, and fortunately my sleep was dreamless. Upon returning to school two days later, it felt as if all eyes were on me. Everywhere I turned, it was as if everyone was staring, judging. They all knew, I thought. I desperately wanted someone to just speak with me, but at the same time, I wished to be let alone. Fortunately, that week was the last of the year, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle. That was the last time my dad was allowed to beat me. For years I had endured this abuse, physically and mentally, through beatings, gaslighting, and bullying. He now has to face the consequences of his actions over the years, and is no longer allowed to see me and has to go through court. All through my life I've struggled with depression, anxiety, and self-esteem issues. I nearly committed suicide twice from not being able to deal with my issues, and for years I practiced self-harm. It didn't help that the one time I was admitted to a mental hospital I was thoroughly traumatized from the experience. All that I knew was the negativity of my home life, and I was always seen as the mess-up, the failure, the one that was different than everyone else. The only place I could feel safe from home was at school, so I focused my time on schooling and studying and joined the most time-consuming extracurriculars that there were, including marching band and several clubs. This led to me having straight A's throughout Junior High and most of High School, and led me to heading for college hoping to get a degree in Computer Science. Now that my father is out of my home, my mental state has increased drastically, and so has that of my mother and siblings. I'm able to focus more on my studying and my hobbies, and don't have to constantly watch my back in fear of him lashing out for no apparent reason. These last six months have been the most peaceful and comfortable of my life, and I am finally beginning to move past my traumas and experience life as it should be. I will never be able to fully forgive my father for what he did to me for 17 and a half years of my life. Those are years I will never be able to get back. I was forced to grow up too quickly and deal with realities and situations that no one should ever have to experience. He is not going to get to be at my graduation, or have any part in my life, and I can finally be free of the painful burden of dealing with him. I can now work on my future, and be my own person, free of his abuse and finally able to heal from my traumas.

My eyes zoned in on the target; the miniscule white figure perched, ready to dash. In I went, and out he ran - but my speed outmatched that which his bony body could achieve. With a quick swoop he was in my palms, but he wasn’t appreciative of the gesture, and his small canines quickly broke through my creamy skin. It didn’t take long before he calmed, though - he was truly too weak to fight back, and eventually sunk into the warmth of my chest as I clutched him close. As his siblings watched with callous eyes from the bushes, I carefully carried him to my abode in hopes of reinstating his health and happiness. Unfortunately his fragile body wasn’t yet capable of ingesting solid foods, as he had gone so long wanting that he simply couldn’t bring himself to eat. It was of no consequence to me, but I couldn’t just leave him to starve. So I eased him into a rag and gently coerced him into opening his jaws so I could insert the syringe. The chalky white substance wasn’t much, but at least he had something in his stomach, and fortunately he kept it down. His pointy ears twitched back and forth in harmony with his distrusting blue eyes as he analyzed my every movement. Any wrong move and a small whine would escape his furry lips, but I paid him no heed. It was easily discernible that he was more comfortable in this mysterious place that wasn’t the sweltering desert home he had previously known. Before long, he relaxed into my caress, and fell into a deep slumber. It was at this point that I had my next assignment: the rescue of his siblings. Day by day, he became more accustomed, and less alone. Several other fluffy bodies joined in the wonderous discovery of unlimited substance and cool, refreshing air. His bones became less pronounced, and while he did not yet join his siblings in their chorus of active combat playing, he was able to sit upright and at least enjoy himself somewhat. He was very reserved those first few weeks, but as he regained his strength, he slowly began to open up. His siblings were very glad to accept him, as it was one more to play with. Occasionally he would tumble, his body not yet strong enough to be fully capable of what the others were, but his runt-like stature did not stop him from finally joining in. Those feline eyes of his became more bright and full with each day he learned more about what it really meant to live, and I was happy to oblige to his wishes as he learned the way in which his begging and purring affected my state. I slowly became attached to him, and he had unknowingly clawed his way into my heart. It wasn’t long thereafter in which it was finally time to find the kittens new homes, as all signs of feral-ness were gone, and each was healthy and eager for constant attention. I couldn’t bring myself to give him up, though, and soon he was the only one left. Once again, it was just the two of us, and I cared for him just as deeply as he seemed to care for me. As the months passed, he grew, and became much stronger and smarter as well. His craftiness often astounded me; his feline instincts were rather fine-tuned. He often drifted behind me wherever I found myself going, like a shadow that could never be separated. It would never be guessed that he was once a helpless, starving, corpse-like creature out on the streets. His constant comfort is now what I crave each day, while the roles seem to have switched as he gains more independence from me. While he still follows me around the house and begs for my attention daily, he no longer needs my constant assistance to survive. It seems as if now I am the one who requires his love. He cares for me mentally as I once cared for him physically, and we have reached a symbiotic relationship that I will not soon forget. Seeing innocent animals starving and dying on the streets is what me and many of my neighbors and friends hate the most to see in our community. Many of us focus much of our time on feeding and caring for the strays, but the sheer number of them still out there and without a home disheartens us. That is why I make it my mission to rescue as many of the poor creatures as I can. I have rescued and rehomed dozens of cats over the years, a few of which stayed with me as my own. The most recent was a young 6 week old kitten I found dying underneath a tree, which is now happily living among her foster siblings and mother in a healthy environment. My current mission is to rescue and rehabilitate a cat I saw the other day which is missing a leg and limping horribly. Me and my neighbor across the street have managed to feed it, but the poor thing is so hurt it can't even stand up properly and eat the food without assistance. Rescuing the neighborhood cats is where I have found my calling, and while to many it may seem as if I have not made a dent in the sheer multitude of abandoned and stray animals, every creature that I am able to rescue is a life saved and made better. I'm sure that every cat I have taken care of and rehomed is much happier than when they were starving alone on the streets. I will never be finished with this goal of mine, but with every life I save more meaning is brought into my life.

Back to school means back in marching band! Marching band is a huge part of school life for marchers like me, and I put anywhere from 10-20 hours a week into this program! Here are some selfies of me and some of my section mates in the band at one of our first football games. (We are the Mellophone section). It is always really exciting to get back into the groove as the school year starts up and start working on our show! My schools show this year is called 'Stand' and is based on themes of standing for oneself and others. We are playing music based off of the songs "Get Up, Stand Up," "Stand By Me," and our finale, "I'm Still Standing." This is going to be an exiting year with an awesome show.

"Most of the things worth doing in the world had been declared impossible before they were done" -Louis Brandeis Impossibility. Many things seem to be impossible to many different people. Whether it be from making it to work on time after waking up late, or sprouting wings and flying to the sun. Saying that something is "impossible" to do just denounces those who try, and nothing will ever change unless if you try. So what if it seems impossible now? One day, everyone might have their own pair of wings, and fly around everywhere each day, and it will be the norm. They might not be genetically existing wings, maybe robotic or prosthetic, but we'll never know until we see it happen. Before the Wright brothers flew the first ever working plane, the idea of humans flying was absurd. They were constantly told it was 'impossible' and that something like that had never happened, and the failures of early inventors like Leonardo da Vinci didn't make it seem any more possible. This didn't stop them, though, and on December 17, 1903, the Wright brothers successfully flew the first ever working plane. The impossible suddenly became possible as they soared across the sky in their rickety machine. Now, thousands of flights take place every day all over the world, and the idea of flying is not the same as it once was. What is one of the first things you do when you wake up in the morning? Turn on the light. Now, imagine that lightbulbs never existed in the first place... Not a pretty thought, huh? The light bulb was once scoffed at as something impossible. An object creating light on its own, without fire? The idea was absolutely absurd to experts and scientists. But, lo and behold, in 1879 Thomas Edison invented the light bulb, after years of trial and error. What was once offhandedly passed as a crazy idea was suddenly very real. This invention changed the world as we know it, and now every day millions of light bulbs are used to bring light and ability to continue the day even when it becomes dark on the outside. While many people describe many things as impossible, the real truth it, we can't ever know if something is possible. The reality is, nothing is impossible! There is no way to tell whether or not our fantasies will eventually become realities as technology develops and more and more inventions pop up. Who knows, eventually we might walk outside to see our cars flying through the distance, see limbless people walking and running just as easily as everyone else with working robotic limbs, or even see an equal world where everyone can be who they want to be.

My cats name is Daemon, and he is the light and joy in my life. He is a silly boy and loves to follow me around begging for attention. I rescued him off the streets when he was about 8 weeks old and starving, and nursed him back to help. I fell in love with him as I took care of him those first few weeks, and now he practically takes care of me mentally. I would not replace him with any other cat, and he is my perfect buddy.

One lesson that I find important is to always make sure to save as much money as possible for the future, and to not spend money you don't have unless you absolutely have to. Having a credit card may seem fun and exciting at the start, but that can build up debt and cause major problems for the future in the long run. That is why it is best to just only spend the money you do have when you need to, and sparingly waste it on items that are not necessary. It's still alright to buy games and do fun activities every once and a while, but do so sparingly and without blowing all the money you have on dozens of video games or fun trips and activities. The more money you save at the start, the more money you'll have access to in the future that might be needed for emergencies, and even eventually, retirement. It's a good idea to save money in order to have a good life and future, rather then spend it all right away to have fun for a short time, only to end up with debt in the end. Having a savings account is the best way to do this, for emergency preparation and any other thing that might need immediate cash. Always make sure to same as much money as you can, and never use a credit card or borrow money unless if you have to. This way, you will best set yourself up for success in the future, and won't have to worry about a myriad of financial problems in the future when you could be focusing on other things.