It's hard to remember his voice, his face, the way he laughed whenever I would boss him around despite being 12 years younger than him, the way he would follow me around the playground when he was 15 just so I wouldn't get hurt as a 3 year old, the way he would put on this innocent voice whenever my mom was mad at him that I now mimic with my dad. I loved him, and looked up to him as a child, wanting to be just like him. It was a normal day when my parents were told the news that he was in the hospital. Suddenly, I was dropped at my aunt's house with my little brother in hand, my uncle carrying two suitcases behind us. It was all a blur I can hardly remember now. School days mushed together and muffled voices that played from the tv constantly as I hadn't heard from my parents in days, until they showed up at my aunt's house, eyes red and hands shaking. They sat us down in the bedroom we had been sharing and told us the news that my older brother had passed away in the hospital from suicide. I didn’t understand what that meant, all I knew was that I would never see my brother again. On March 29, 2026, It will have been 10 years since my older brothers passing. As I have grown and learned more about mental health, I was finally able to grieve in a way that I never had as a child. My parents later told me more: how they had never questioned anything, and assumed he was fine just because he was attending therapy, but when he said that he was feeling worse and worse, they didn’t bat an eye, telling him to keep doing what he was doing, and he would feel better. They didn’t go rushing to his side: they stayed home, and told him it would all get better eventually. He needed someone, and nobody was there. I wish to become a psychologist in the future, and specialize in child and adolescent psychology. Studying the human brain and how it affects our emotions and actions has been my interest since I was in middle school, and after truly understanding what Mental health was, It became my passion. I want to help others who feel like they don’t deserve help or feel alone. I want to be the person that my brother needed, to be there when he needed a shoulder to cry on, to tell him he wasn’t alone, to be there for him when he felt hopeless or discouraged. I want to use my brother's story to help others who feel small or alone in the world. Because of him, I want to help others who are struggling, and be someone that they can rely on for help.

It's hard to remember his voice, his face, the way he laughed whenever I would boss him around despite being 12 years younger than him, the way he would follow me around the playground when he was 15 just so I wouldn't get hurt as a 3 year old, the way he would put on this innocent voice whenever my mom was mad at him that I know mimick with my dad. I loved him, and looked up to him as a child, wanting to be just like him. It was a normal day when my parents were told the news that he was in the hospital. Suddenly, I was dropped at my aunt's house with my little brother in hand, my uncle carrying two suitcases behind us. It was all a blur I can hardly remember now. School days mushed together and muffled voices that played from the tv constantly as I hadn't heard from my parents in days, until they showed up at my aunt's house, eyes red and hands shaking. They sat us down in the bedroom we had been sharing and told us the news that my older brother had passed away in the hospital from suicide. I didn’t understand what that meant, all I knew was that I would never see my brother again. On March 29, 2026, It will have been 10 years since my older brothers passing. As I have grown and learned more about mental health, I was finally able to grieve in a way that I never had as a child. My parents later told me more: how they had never questioned anything, and assumed he was fine just because he was attending therapy, but when he said that he was feeling worse and worse, they didn’t bat an eye, telling him to keep doing what he was doing, and he would feel better. They didn’t go rushing to his side: they stayed home, and told him it would all get better eventually. He needed someone, and nobody was there. Everything reminds me of my brother. Listening to old songs he loved, seeing teachers who remember having him in their class, listening to a violin play, hearing my younger brother laugh, the old sidewalks where he would walk beside me while holding my hand, feeling a gust of wind slap me in the face when I complain about my parents. I wish to become a psychologist in the future, and specialize in child and adolescent psychology. Studying the human brain and how it affects our emotions and actions has been my interest since I was in middle school, and after truly understanding what Mental health was, It became my passion. I want to help others who feel like they don’t deserve help or feel alone. I want to be the person that my brother needed, to be there when he needed a shoulder to cry on, to tell him he wasn’t alone, to be there for him when he felt hopeless or discouraged. I want to use my brother's story to help others who feel small or alone in the world. Because of him, I want to help others who are struggling, and be someone that they can rely on for help.

To me, being a first generation student means to be a pathsetter. It means to pave the way for younger siblings or family to follow. It means being the one at the front of the line to help set the example for others around you to follow, and being the person they can rely on if they need help in the future. My younger brother is the main driving force behind my ambition and determination to attend college. He is almost 2 years behind me, and is my best friend: always following me and encouraging me whenever I feel down. I want to be able to light the path for him when he is old enough and ready to go to college. My parents immigrated to the United States looking for something better: not for themselves, but for their future family, the children they dreamed of having and raising together. My father was already living in the U.S when my mother arrived, and when they got married two weeks later on News Years day of 2003, they began trying to create that family. However, they both had very little education and weren't great at speaking English yet, which made finding any work hard. Ever since I was a child, I watched the sacrifices that my parents made for me and my younger brother to be able to enjoy life and do the things that we wanted to do. I remember spending the day not seeing my father until 6pm, then watching him leave again at 8pm to drive uber all night so he could buy us a piano to practice, going with my mother every single school break day while she cleaned homes as her daily job so she could buy me my first violin so I could learn. I dreamed of growing up and becoming a rich and successful person, so I could finally be able to return everything my parents have given to me and double. I want to go to college and study Psychology to hopefully become a child psychologist, focusing more on helping children and teens with mental illnesses. This scholarship would help bring college closer to reality for me and my family. The costs of college provide a great challenge for both me and my family to try and provide for in time. My parents have been working even harder than I have ever seen before to try and help me get a head start for the estimated first semester cost of my top school. This scholarship would be able to help me afford more of my college tuition so I can be able to achieve my dream of becoming a child psychologist and helping children who may feel like they are alone, as well as giving me the tools necessary to begin paving that road for my younger brother to follow in.