Growing up in Ecuador, I was privileged. In a country where poverty has dictated history - running deep in its roots - and the minimum wage is $470 a month, I had a fair life. Even though I was occasionally denied food at the cafeteria when my parents were late for their payments, shame never followed me. Any embarrassment evaporated the next day when I was sent cookies for lunch. Being kids, we did not understand the financial implications - all we understood was that my friends had to eat rice & beans whilst I was enjoying Oreos. As I matured, the humiliation of being denied cafeteria food quickly faded. It was impossible to signal out someone when the majority of kids were declined food as well. To me, poverty was a foreign concept until I began my college life in the USA. My acceptance into an American university was a blessing camouflaged as a lesson. As someone pursuing astronomy, I knew that my dream came with inevitable migration. No universities in Ecuador offer astronomy as a major. As for the rest of Latin America? Astronomy is a dream for a few select graduate students in wealthier nations. That is why my acceptance into Penn State was invaluable to me - it meant that I could pursue my childhood dreams. At 11 I had already decided that my major would be astronomy. The rest of my middle school and high school life was merely dedicated to determining my minor. Thus, the summer after being accepted, I researched blazars, quasars, & neutrinos - because in a major where so much is yet to be discovered, I wanted to have my specialty picked beforehand so that I could be a pioneer. Ambition drove me; I was determined to leave my mark. However, I quickly realized that that summer I should have devoted time to pursuing financial aid. Since my father was American, my family believed that I would not struggle to find financial aid since I had access to programs other Ecuadorians cannot access - like FAFSA. Despite initial rejection by some (since I was born and raised in Ecuador), we still had faith that financial aid would come. But he passed away right before I entered college, and my family did not have the paperwork that the school was demanding to process my FAFSA aid. Moreover, because it had been such a long time since my dad had lived in the US, I could not apply to any universities as an in-state student. I was left with the full bill, with no hopes of getting aid. My family knew that my first semester was going to be a massive hit on our finances. But we reassured ourselves with the fact that I had always academically excelled. Trophies and diplomas decorated our house, so we were sure that after proving my skills in college, I would qualify for merit-based scholarships. In the meantime, my mum used her retirement savings, I stopped going to my tri-monthly medical appointments for my Left Ventricular Noncompaction Cardiomyopathy, and we waived healthcare in the US to invest it all in my education. However, it was not as easy as we thought it would be. Dealing with the recent death of my father in his country was not what I thought it would be. I thought I would dive into his roots, explore his childhood, see the scenery he had seen growing up, and spiritually connect with his life before me. My father dedicated his adulthood to getting to know the country that was my childhood, so I wanted to do the same – get to know the US. However, instead, I was suffering mentally due to his passing. This manifested itself in a variety of shapes, including poor grades. After every test, I wanted to scream 'This is not my best, I promise I can score full marks, I promise I can be better' to those around me. However, instead, I would cower in shame, distancing myself from my family and classmates because I did not want my grades to be known. I was sacrificing my health and my mum's future for Cs and Bs in classes that I was used to achieving A's. But the more I ran away from grief, the more it translated into shame. I was ashamed of many things. Doing my laundry was expensive - with what my family was going through, spending $8 every week on washing my stuff was a luxury. Winter was an even greater luxury - I came from a country where the whole year was 69 degrees; I did not have expensive coats to sustain the negative temperatures. I had long sleeves and jackets that I brought in bulk to layer on top of me. It was not until I embraced grief, reshaping it into love, that I was able to reconstruct my grades. After realizing that I can translate the grief of my father's passing into effort for the things we both loved that my grades finally showed who I truly was. My father and I always talked about astronomy. Thus, too me, spending hours studying astronomy is a silent love letter to my father, a way to communicate to the spiritual realm 'this effort is my love for you'. Every math and physics equation I solve is a love poem. My python codes are in hopes to develop space recognition imagery – perhaps find a planet and name it after my father. In Ecuador, knowledge is an escape from poverty. This is why my dream is to open the first astronomy department in Ecuador's polytechnic university. I want to help other future astronomers from low-income countries pursue their dreams. However, I also want to devote my knowledge to research blazars, quasars, and neutrinos. STEM does not have to be distant from humanitarian work. Knowledge is a tool against poverty, and us scientists can employ it.

Watercolor has always been the art media that resonated most deeply within me. To me, it feels like combining two different life forces. Water has its own rhythm to decorate space and what I love about watercolors is that water brings them to life. To me, there is something magical about being able to go to a riverbank, collect its water, & then use the very own water from the river to paint a scenery. There is a deep connection with nature that watercolor has that other art medias do not. I remember being 14, walking along the streets of Toronto & finding a vintage shop. It wassail, artsy, with a huge 'NO PHOTOS' sign in the middle of it to preserve the secrecy of the African masks & the Japanese marble ships it had. My brother was enrolled in the Art Institute of Chicago at the time & I was taking the IGCSE Art course, because of this, the two of us were deeply moved by the pieces inside. We wanted to take all of them home, but as one would expect, pricey tags were attached to them all. The disappointment was evident, until I saw a ShinHan Watercolor set near the doors of the place. I knew then that even though I would not be able to take the art I saw inside with me, I would be able to take the tools to create art inspired by what I saw inside. From then, my Art IGCSE course was mainly composed of watercolor paintings. Some based on realism, others based on abstract impressionism. I was expressing everything I could think of. This became a core component of my weekly life & now, even though I am pursuing astronomy, I still dedicate two hours a week into watercolor painting. I take the portable Windsor Watercolors wherever I go. My first piece pictures treehoppers, the dancing lady orchid, & the 69/68 butterfly - all native species to 'Maquipucuna'. This is because, one of my closest friends & I went to the Maquipucuna reserve to offer as volunteers to make a hand-painted, watercolor, brochure of the most iconic native species of the area. The brochure is one of my proudest creations because it encompasses my love for nature & for art - as well as my willingness to help others. The second piece is an abstract painting inspired on the series 'Mononoke' released in 2007. To me, this series is like a moving painting, which is why I wanted to take my own twist on it.

It is hard to empathize with someone suicidal - even if that person was yourself. At 13 I attempted against my own life - which is odd, because at 13 your brain has barely even started to experience change & growth. Perhaps it was my father's cancer diagnosis or my half-brother's death the year before that made my brain fragile enough to consider taking my own life - or maybe it was experiencing a break up for the first time. The three situations seem vastly different in emotional levels, how dare I compare a break up with a boy I never even hugged to the loss of my loved ones? Yet at the time, everything I experienced sat on the same wavelength. My troughs were repetitive, my problems were never different. My peaks? They were silly, watching shows without really taking in the content. However, at the time, because of my age, I was expected to not be going through any of these turmoils because people assumed I did not understand what was occurring. In a sense they were right. At 11, when my half-brother had his first stroke, I told my teacher that I had to leave early with a smile. I really did not understand what was going on. At 12, after my half-brother's second stroke, when he was in the ICU I was not allowed into the facilities to visit him because there were age restrictions. These age restrictions seemed to be a restriction on mental health in itself. But they weren't restrictions placed only by the hospital, they were restrictions placed by everyone around me. My school was 3-18, & my older brother was 18 when my half-brother passed away. I distinctly remember the secondary principal (who was in charged of both my brother & I) driving my brother to the ICU so that he could visit my half-brother. Me? I had a teacher approach me once. I think everyone deemed it that I was too young to understand. Maybe they were right. Cause the day after he passed I went to school as normal whereas my brother couldn't. I wasn't registering anything emotionally. Yet, at 13, one day, I finally registered everything. It swarmed me. Before, I was a jolly person, but then from one day to another my interest in everything dipped. Time was dreadful to me. The passing of time was unbearable to me. My most recurring thought was that I could not live to be over 24 years old because that would mean I would have spent the majority of my life alive without my brother rather than alive with him. So I set a date for myself, when I turn 23 I had to die. But then I realized that 23 is not a fair number, because the first time I met my half-brother was when I was four, so truly, I had only known him 8 years, thus I had to die at 16. But that wasn't fair either because I did not spend a lot of time with him since he lived in Texas for most of my childhood & I lived in Quito. It was a spiral that left me with the conclusion that I had to die as soon as possible. I would beg & cry for God to take me, because I was young & scared of doing it myself. I don't know what happened that made me become better. Perhaps it was hearing my best friend call suicidal people 'stupid' - maybe I was afraid of being judged after death. Perhaps it was partaking in volunteer work & realizing that joy is contagious. Perhaps it was seeing my dad pray alone after seeing my self-harm marks. Perhaps it was Sufjan Steven's lyrics, which resonated so deeply within me at the time. Yet, throughout it all, there was a stronger spiritual presence guiding me. When I first listened to Sufjan, I solely listened to his songs about grief. However, his religious songs were silently speaking to me throughout it all. Hearing him incorporate grief into love, not only for those around you but for greater forces than you helped me reproach my mindset. I stopped thinking of grief as a ticking clock & began looking at grief as unexpressed love. Love that can be sent to other people, love that you may not be able to give to those you've lost but you may be able to give to those who are struggling. Eventually, I did become better - but when I did I realized that I could not comprehend the level of pain I was going through. It's as if I'm looking from an exterior lens when I think about the person I was in the past, because I know I used to be suicidal, but I can't feel the same emotions. It's as if a greater force is blocking those emotions away from me. My father passed away when I was 17 but this newly transformed mindset helped me share love instead of be stuck in solitude. Exactly a year after my father passed away, I met a person who was struggling with similar health problems. I knew that this was God, the universe, Jesus, energy - whatever one may believe in - giving me a chance to express my love for my dad via care for this person. I was given a second chance at love. Mental health is a silent killer - but love & community may be the cure. Loving strangers will eventually become self-love. I am working hard in becoming someone that can act as a pillar for others. Mental health should not be approached alone. I am very sorry for your loss. What you're doing is very inspiring & loving, thank you for helping others.

My career is distant from me. Literally speaking, majoring in astronomy means that I will never understand the space between me & what I study. However, figuratively speaking, the love & passion I carry for what I study allows me to transport the love I have for the stars wherever I go. I've always believed that if love is your primary motivator, you are bound to do good wherever you go. Before deciding to major in astronomy, I was conflicted because I felt the need to major in some area related to humanitarian work or environmental sustainability. I was certain that I would be able to link humane causes to whatever field I stepped into, because wherever you go, there are people in need. However, in science-based careers I realized that those who need help are typically scientists themselves - because of how underpaid they are. Yet I've always wanted to do good to hundreds of lives without abandoning the love I have for the cosmos. This is why I've grown so inspired by Alan Turing - who dedicated his life to mathematical algorithms to form the first computer model, doing so out of love for the subject & for his childhood friend Christopher; whilst also saving an estimated 14million lives as a result of the enigma codes the computer was able to crack. Because of him, I have grown motivated to develop the love I have for my major into a form of love that will encompass my drive to help others. With my studies in astronomy, I hope to partake in research in neutrinos & their impact in blazars, & quasars. Neutrinos are under-investigated due to their scarcity in the inter-galactic realm. However, they pose important information in radioactivity. There have been experiments proving their ability to change chlorine to argon. To me, developing research in neutrinos may be able to help reverse the effects of radioactive poisoning in our earth. Particularly, I am hoping that by carrying research in neutrinos, I will be able to lay the foundations for doctors wishing to reverse the radioactive birth defects in Marshallese babies who have had the term 'jellyfish babies'. However, in the same way that Alan Turing was unsure of how his dedication to math was going to manifest as one of the primary reasons why World War 2 was cut short - yet he remained passionate. I am currently unsure how my love for astronomy will help others - but I am certain that as long as I continue being driven by love - & not by obligation nor greed - opportunities to help others will arise. Love is contagious, & the love I have for astronomy can be transformed into love for nature, love for others, & love for knowledge. Thank you for your kindness & for offering scholarships to students. I am very sorry for your loss. I admire how you guys were able to transform the love you have for your daughters into a form of help towards other students.