As a child, I was very timid and struggled with anxiety. I always wished people would treat me with patience and understanding. Therefore, whenever I had the opportunity to treat other people with the same kindness I wanted to be approached with, I took it. In my sophomore year, I volunteered in a program called Friendship Circle, in which I worked with children with special needs every weekend. Every time, a different child (which we called a "buddy") was assigned to me, and we spent time doing fun activities together like jumping on trampolines, making art crafts, singing, and eating pizza. Each child was unique, and I had to accommodate their unique restrictions and requirements. This experience was truly special to me. I made a meaningful connection with each one of my buddies, regardless of whether they could even talk back to me. With some kids, I talked and laughed, and with some, it was enough to just sit under the warm sun and lick some fruit-flavored shaved ice. Giving these children something to look forward to every weekend gave me hope for our community to be filled with kind, remarkable people like them. In tenth grade, I also volunteered in another place called MoEd, an after-school program for American Jewish children. I started working there in eleventh grade, and I continue to this day. Along with three co-workers, I organized entertaining activities to educate children about Judaism and led interactive lessons that taught them reading and writing in Hebrew. I discovered that I have a kind and playful attitude that children easily relate to and connect to. They often confide their secrets to me because they feel they can trust me. For example, I once assisted a child who told me she was depressed due to issues at home to get help. I also helped a reserved girl to make new friends. Another girl told me that whenever she is feeling down, MoEd is the only place that can bring a smile to her face. I have faith that the children will continue to utilize the life skills I taught them later in life. Another time I made a meaningful contribution to the community was during the beginning of the Ukrainian War. Shortly after Russia invaded Ukraine in February of 2022, many charities were donating to refugees supplies like canned foods, blankets, and clothes. I noticed, however, that very few charities provided them with the emotional support that they needed. Therefore, I initiated a project at my high school enabling students to send uplifting letters to Ukrainian child refugees. It took much time and effort: connecting school staff members with a Ukrainian church, publishing posters, getting the project on my school's morning announcement, etc. However, eventually, the letterbox I placed in my teacher's class was filled with kind messages and delivered straight to a Ukrainian child refugee camp. It was amazing to me how a small, local action could truly make a difference in someone’s day. Although the horrific war went on, it warms my heart to know that our community collaborated to facilitate the situation for those affected by it. I do not strive to change the whole world, as that goal would be too overwhelming. My goal is to strengthen my community and fill it with compassion, goodwill, and affection. Hopefully, the people within it will carry these values with them and spread them around to many places around the globe. All it takes is one good community.

I push AirPods into my ears, my wistful gaze fixed on the passing scenery through the yellow bus's window, and listen in repeat to Olivia Rodrigo's song "Lacy" from her new album GUTS. The song paints a portrait of the idealized girl that many teenage girls like me see in their minds. Lacy is not just one girl; she represents the many perfect girls that surround me "everywhere." Their flawless physical attributes—skin "like puff pastry," "eyes white as daisies"—coupled with their likable personalities, "smart" and "sweet," can make me consumed by envy. There are days when I feel as though I can never measure up to all of the Lacys, an issue that is exacerbated through social media. Their carefully selected photos and TikToks with the stunning filters that they upload to their accounts make them look divine, as if they are "made of angel dust." I cannot be fully satisfied even when I achieve a meaningful goal, like volunteering or writing a new poem or story. Instead, I compare myself to what I perceive to be the impossible standards that the "Lacys" set- they "poison every little thing that I do." Despite my attempts to remain positive and avoid comparisons, jealousy "takes over my life" as they seem to be effortlessly excelling in every aspect of life. While these girls never wronged me (with most of them probably not even aware of my name,) my mind often plays tricks on me, convincing me they are somehow conspiring against me and are "out to get me." The ironic part is that although I envy all of the Lacys out there because they are everything I wish to be, I still cannot help but love and "worship" them in "my rotten mind" as much as everyone else does. It is much more difficult to despise nice and friendly girls than condescending, mean ones. They end up being a bittersweet torture, "the sweetest thing on this side of hell." A particular feature in the song that I especially admire is how the initially subtle, darker undertones gradually escalate, becoming increasingly prominent. It mirrors how I am often trapped in a loop of negative thoughts, and the longer it takes me to break free, the more noticeable these toxic voices in my head get. The way she delivers the song and the quiet, delicate voice she uses flips my stomach. She sounds chilling and creepy, which is the sensation most teenage girls get when they obsessively think about the Lacys in their lives and compare themselves to them. Olivia Rodrigo's song "Lacy" captures the deepest insecurities teenagers grapple with, exposing the struggle to navigate the complex maze of self-acceptance and societal standards. It conveys the constant pain in our souls to become the idealized girl we are expected to be, the "Lacy" we aspire to become, with the cost of potentially losing our identity in the process.