I was always intrigued by the brilliant color of magentas layered with the blues of a dying day. I found joy in watching the sun reach the horizon line as I scrambled to my window to marvel at the skies’ artistry and beauty. My childhood revolved around the bright sun as I played in the meadow by my house, kicked a soccer ball for fun, and took walks with my dog. Suddenly, the sun--and my joy-- was submerged in darkness as three words escaped my mother’s mouth… “I have cancer”. The world went silent, except for the shrill screaming of a frightened child. I attempted not to imagine the worst, but fear engulfed me. I guess that is typical for a thirteen-year-old girl watching her mother’s spirit fade. I no longer loved sunsets for their beauty, instead, I envied them for their ability to lie. They were skilled at hiding the truth, for sunsets suggested that earth was beautiful, even though it's broken and filled with disease and the fear disease inspires. So then I became numb. Not like losing feeling in your foot from sitting on it for too long; I became emotionally numb. A type of sadness that never went away. I would sit in my room for hours staring at the ceiling fan, thoughts racing through my head. I became severely depressed. Sitting on my bathroom floor in the darkness trying to feel something from a small razor blade and watching the bloodlines form was my escape. I believed that it was better to feel some sense of pain than absolutely nothing. So after a year of battling my own mind, my parents sent me to therapy. I despised the idea and hid it from everyone I loved. One day, my therapist gave me an assignment: to find something that interested me. I thought it was a silly assignment, but I did it and discovered an article about a doctor who performed surgery on an inoperable tumor. I felt a surge of serotonin I hadn't felt in years. This discovery--the wonders of surgery--changed, and saved, my life. From researching the doctors and nurses that healed my mother, I realized I could change the world by aiding others with similar trauma. I began to find joy in learning about the wonders of medicine that cured millions of people around the world; I became determined to be a part of this mission. The hardships I saw my mother face, from watching her hair fall out to barely being able to speak, inspired me to become the person to save someone else's mother. The precision and skill of these gifted surgeons astounded me. These doctors could cure the most hopeless of cases through the artistry of their hands. The most profound case I read about was a once-paralyzed child who, through surgical innovation, was given his life back. As I began my own research, I discovered neurosurgery and immediately felt a connection. My struggles with depression channeled my interest in the brain, and I wanted to learn about ways to treat mental illnesses that stem from brain dysfunction- I too could have my life back. I knew then that my purpose was to be a doctor. I bought a suture kit in my sophomore year, and instead of staring at the ceiling fan while alone with my thoughts, I began to suture and perfect the simple technique of stitches. As I got better and learned more complicated designs, I felt my own scars and wounds begin to heal. Even though I still battle depression, I have found a way to channel my feelings into a purpose and passion. Learning about the medical field through both my high school academy and my own research has taught me to share my struggles openly, and to embrace the resiliency I have developed in the face of an illness that isn’t cured with a simple drug. My journey has allowed me to better understand brain dysfunction and the treatments that help manage these illnesses. Learning about my brain was the cure in my case. Working with neurologists and psychiatrists has helped me not only manage my disease but to find my calling in this world. I want to research the biological factors behind the mental illnesses that challenge millions today and improve the quality of life for those who struggle. I also want to be an advocate for those who are scared to speak out about their illness. I see the world in a new light- specifically the sunsets. My once unquenchable envy transformed into peace. I now sit in my car and admire the sky around me. As I drive home and watch the sun reach its end, I think to myself that I made it through another day. Everyone lives under the same sun but the experiences we face beneath its beaming rays vary. Sunsets became my glimpse of hope, as they transformed into darkness with the promise of a new beginning, dawn; I rediscovered the beauty I could change the world into, seen in a setting sun, and for that, I cherished them again. The hardships life throws at us can be challenging in their own ways but it is the perseverance and hope that sunsets gave me that helped me find peace and battle my mental health.

I was always intrigued by the brilliant color of magentas layered with the blues of a dying day. I found joy in watching the sun reach the horizon line as I scrambled to my window to marvel at the skies’ artistry and beauty. My childhood revolved around the bright sun as I played in the meadow by my house, kicked a soccer ball for fun, and took walks with my dog. Suddenly, the sun--and my joy-- was submerged in darkness as three words escaped my mother’s mouth… “I have cancer”. The world went silent, except for the shrill screaming of a frightened child. I attempted not to imagine the worst, but fear engulfed me. I guess that is typical for a thirteen-year-old girl watching her mother’s spirit fade. I no longer loved sunsets for their beauty, instead, I envied them for their ability to lie. They were skilled at hiding the truth, for sunsets suggested that earth was beautiful, even though it's broken and filled with disease and the fear disease inspires. So then I became numb. Not like losing feeling in your foot from sitting on it for too long; I became emotionally numb. A type of sadness that never went away. I would sit in my room for hours staring at the ceiling fan, thoughts racing through my head. I became severely depressed. Sitting on my bathroom floor in the darkness trying to feel something from a small razor blade and watching the bloodlines form was my escape. I believed that it was better to feel some sense of pain than absolutely nothing. So after a year of battling my own mind, my parents sent me to therapy. I despised the idea and hid it from everyone I loved. One day, my therapist gave me an assignment: to find something that interested me. I thought it was a silly assignment, but I did it and discovered an article about a doctor who performed surgery on an inoperable tumor. I felt a surge of serotonin I hadn't felt in years. This discovery--the wonders of surgery--changed, and saved, my life. From researching the doctors and nurses that healed my mother, I realized I could change the world by aiding others with similar trauma. I began to find joy in learning about the wonders of medicine that cured millions of people around the world; I became determined to be a part of this mission. The hardships I saw my mother face, from watching her hair fall out to barely being able to speak, inspired me to become the person to save someone else's mother. The precision and skill of these gifted surgeons astounded me. These doctors could cure the most hopeless of cases through the artistry of their hands. The most profound case I read about was a once-paralyzed child who, through surgical innovation, was given his life back. As I began my own research, I discovered neurosurgery and immediately felt a connection. My struggles with depression channeled my interest in the brain, and I wanted to learn about ways to treat mental illnesses that stem from brain dysfunction- I too could have my life back. I knew then that my purpose was to be a doctor. I bought a suture kit in my sophomore year, and instead of staring at the ceiling fan while alone with my thoughts, I began to suture and perfect the simple technique of stitches. As I got better and learned more complicated designs, I felt my own scars and wounds begin to heal. Even though I still battle depression, I have found a way to channel my feelings into a purpose and passion. Learning about the medical field through both my high school academy and my own research has taught me to share my struggles openly, and to embrace the resiliency I have developed in the face of an illness that isn’t cured with a simple drug. My journey has allowed me to better understand brain dysfunction and the treatments that help manage these illnesses. Learning about my brain was the cure in my case. Working with neurologists and psychiatrists has helped me not only manage my disease but to find my calling in this world. I want to research the biological factors behind the mental illnesses that challenge millions today and improve the quality of life for those who struggle. I also want to be an advocate for those who are scared to speak out about their illness. I see the world in a new light- specifically the sunsets. My once unquenchable envy transformed into peace. I now sit in my car and admire the sky around me. As I drive home and watch the sun reach its end, I think to myself that I made it through another day. Everyone lives under the same sun but the experiences we face beneath its beaming rays vary. Sunsets became my glimpse of hope, as they transformed into darkness with the promise of a new beginning, dawn; I rediscovered the beauty I could change the world into, seen in a setting sun, and for that, I cherished them again. The hardships life throws at us can be challenging in their own ways but it is the perseverance and hope that sunsets gave me that helped me find peace and battle my mental health.