I haven't accepted many "BookTok" recommendations because I am not interested in the topics that are more often provided, but there was one book that stood out, and it is called Education. I didn't ever get to reading it though until we were introduced to it by our English IV teacher. She was adamant and dedicated to having us be interested in this book because of the depth of the perspective of realizing that not everyone comes from the same backgrounds. After months of deep analyses, our class came to the agreement that it was our favorite book out of all the years of middle school and high school. Tara Westover grew up underneath the indoctrination of an extreme patriarchy that her father hid and excused under the religion of Mormonism. She was abused by her corrupted family throughout the first quarter of her life. Never being allowed into a classroom until the age of seventeen, she defied odds by diligently studying to score in the 90th percentile on the ACT test for admission to college, receiving scholarships along the way and pursuing an education that soon taught her topics and lessons that most her age had already had the abused advantage of learning. Being in college surrounded by peers that had an education and non-laborious life that she never had caused her to feel disobedient towards God and her family, disadvantaged from creating healthy relationships with others, abnormal from the subjective standards of society, and innocently guilty of daily, normal activities, portraying how deeply scarred those false and toxic beliefs left her. Educated is a beautiful piece of writing that has shone the disadvantages of how a lack of education and experiences can take a toll on somebody’s self esteem and individuality. Naivety of one’s surroundings deteriorates a person and leaves them caught on a door handle, left behind in the splinters of society’s criticism and lack of situational understanding. Tara was unquestionably stripped from a necessary principle that might always stay cemented in the depths of her mind, but she learned to treat that adversity and decided to produce something so honorable from something so strenuous. Everybody is entitled to an education, just as if I had everyone read one book, it would be Educated by Tara Westover, because her book raises awareness of how ignorant society can be to those who are titled as “abnormal” and shows the true definition of one of my favorite quotes: "Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable" (Cesar A. Cruz). Her book can comfort the discomforted, people who are or were in similar situations of societal exclusion due to a less common background in their life, but it can also discomfort the comfortable by opening their eyes of others' misfortunes and educate them on how to be accepting instead of hateful–to be mindful and objective rather than leading oneself by assumptions. Literature similar to her book is significant because it is ugly but beautiful at the same time; I like the interference of those separate and inverse concepts.

As a ten year old, I never knew much about the meaning of being in the military or why I had been brought to meet the old men who were struggling to live peacefully because of the strenuous labor that being a veteran had involved. I only realized after their last breath why they wanted to see me so suddenly. While I was involved profoundly in student council, volunteering, and clubs such as 4-H at my elementary school, I was competing in a contest that happened to be near the assisted living establishment that my adopted papaw Chester lived in. My nannie and mom insisted that he see me. I didn't know this man, but he knew me. He served in the Navy during World War II and from my perspective, he was so giving, so selfless, so honorable by heart; this man had an atmosphere of warm love surrounding everyone he went near. His heart was kind and he was filled with laughter, smiles, and bright twinkles in his eyes. He held me and told me how proud he was of me. I hugged him, and my mother snapped a photo of us. We took almost half the day speaking with him and taking a walk with him through brightly lit halls. I remember vividly of his vibrant red, chunky Jitterbug flip phone that I still remember the catchy ringtone of. Only barely a while after that day, he was gone. The worst part of it was that I didn't know my first time meeting him was my last, and that I wouldn't be allowed a proper farewell due to family disrespecting him by keeping his funeral in solace. As a child, I didn't understand such an abrupt end to a relationship that had just begun. This taught me that last times are always too unexpected and that instead of living in the case of an "again," I should always live in the case of regrets. I learned to prevent making mistakes I will dwell on by allowing others to know how appreciated, loved, and admired they are. Even if not being able to attend his funeral was not on my hand, I learned that there was not a chance at goodbye, but I was thankful that I was able to obtain a greeting and a farewell from our time spent that day. Unfortunately at this age, it was not the only man that was taken from me so soon, but like before, it taught me the lesson of life being short, but so invaluable and inestimable. My family decided to go to our southern Louisianian family members, per usual, and as one, the adults decided to bring my siblings and me along to ride in our farmer uncles' tractor. There were three men, two of which I didn't know, and one of whom stood out to me; his name was Mickey. He was my great uncle and I would not stop laughing every time I would call him my "Uncle Mickey Mouse." He served as a Private in the military. He, as well, was filled with warm joy and a need to love others. With a sprig of wheat in his mouth and a hat protecting his face from the bright sun, he took us on a tractor ride through a field at sunset. It was one of the most memorable summer nights of my childhood, and that sunset will eternally remind me of the beauty of simplicity.

As a ten year old, I never knew much about the meaning of being in the military or why I had been brought to meet the old men who were struggling to live peacefully because of the strenuous labor that being a veteran had involved. I only realized after their last breath why they wanted to see me so suddenly. While I was involved profoundly in student council, volunteering, and clubs such as 4-H at my elementary school, I was competing in a contest that happened to be near the assisted living establishment that my adopted papaw Chester lived in. My nannie and mom insisted that he see me. I didn't know this man, but he knew me. He served in the Navy during World War II and from my perspective, he was so giving, so selfless, so honorable by heart; this man had an atmosphere of warm love surrounding everyone he went near. His heart was kind and he was filled with laughter, smiles, and bright twinkles in his eyes. He held me and told me how proud he was of me. I hugged him, and my mother snapped a photo of us. We took almost half the day speaking with him and taking a walk with him through brightly lit halls. I remember vividly of his vibrant red, chunky Jitterbug flip phone that I still remember the catchy ringtone of. Only barely a while after that day, he was gone. The worst part of it was that I didn't know my first time meeting him was my last, and that I wouldn't be allowed a proper farewell due to family disrespecting him by keeping his funeral in solace. As a child, I didn't understand such an abrupt end to a relationship that had just begun. This taught me that last times are always too unexpected and that instead of living in the case of an "again," I should always live in the case of regrets. I learned to prevent making mistakes I will dwell on by allowing others to know how appreciated, loved, and admired they are. Even if not being able to attend his funeral was not on my hand, I learned that there was not a chance at goodbye, but I was thankful that I was able to obtain a greeting and a farewell from our time spent that day. Unfortunately at this age, it was not the only man that was taken from me so soon, but like before, it taught me the lesson of life being short, but so invaluable and inestimable. My family decided to go to our southern Louisianian family members, per usual, and as one, the adults decided to bring my siblings and me along to ride in our farmer uncles' tractor. There were three men, two of which I didn't know, and one of whom stood out to me; his name was Mickey. He was my great uncle and I would not stop laughing every time I would call him my "Uncle Mickey Mouse." He served as a Private in the military. He, as well, was filled with warm joy and a need to love others. With a sprig of wheat in his mouth and a hat protecting his face from the bright sun, he took us on a tractor ride through a field at sunset. It was one of the most memorable summer nights of my childhood, and that sunset will eternally remind me of the beauty of simplicity.

As a ten year old, I never knew much about the meaning of being in the military or why I had been brought to meet the old men who were struggling to live peacefully because of the strenuous labor that being a veteran had involved. I only realized after their last breath why they wanted to see me so suddenly. While I was involved profoundly in student council, volunteering, and clubs such as 4-H at my elementary school, I was competing in a contest that happened to be near the assisted living establishment that my adopted papaw Chester lived in. My nannie and mom insisted that he see me. I didn't know this man, but he knew me. He served in the Navy during World War II and from my perspective, he was so giving, so selfless, so honorable by heart; this man had an atmosphere of warm love surrounding everyone he went near. His heart was kind and he was filled with laughter, smiles, and bright twinkles in his eyes. He held me and told me how proud he was of me. I hugged him, and my mother snapped a photo of us. We took almost half the day speaking with him and taking a walk with him through brightly lit halls. I remember vividly of his vibrant red, chunky Jitterbug flip phone that I still remember the catchy ringtone of. Only barely a while after that day, he was gone. The worst part of it was that I didn't know my first time meeting him was my last, and that I wouldn't be allowed a proper farewell due to family disrespecting him by keeping his funeral in solace. As a child, I didn't understand such an abrupt end to a relationship that had just begun. This taught me that last times are always too unexpected and that instead of living in the case of an "again," I should always live in the case of regrets. I learned to prevent making mistakes I will dwell on by allowing others to know how appreciated, loved, and admired they are. Even if not being able to attend his funeral was not on my hand, I learned that there was not a chance at goodbye, but I was thankful that I was able to obtain a greeting and a farewell from our time spent that day. Unfortunately at this age, it was not the only man that was taken from me so soon, but like before, it taught me the lesson of life being short, but so invaluable and inestimable. My family decided to go to our southern Louisianian family members, per usual, and as one, the adults decided to bring my siblings and me along to ride in our farmer uncles' tractor. There were three men, two of which I didn't know, and one of whom stood out to me; his name was Mickey. He was my great uncle and I would not stop laughing every time I would call him my "Uncle Mickey Mouse." He served as a Private in the military. He, as well, was filled with warm joy and a need to love others. With a sprig of wheat in his mouth and a hat protecting his face from the bright sun, he took us on a tractor ride through a field at sunset. It was one of the most memorable summer nights of my childhood, and that sunset will eternally remind me of the beauty of simplicity.

Tara Westover grew up underneath the indoctrination of an extreme patriarchy that her father hid and excused under the religion of Mormonism. She was abused by her corrupted family throughout the first quarter of her life. Never being allowed into a classroom until the age of seventeen, she defied odds by diligently studying to score in the 90th percentile on the ACT test for admission into college, receiving scholarships along the way and pursuing an education that soon taught her topics and lessons that most her age had already had the exploited advantage of learning. Being in college surrounded by peers that had an education and non-laborious life that she never had caused her to feel disobedient towards God and her family, disadvantaged from creating healthy relationships with others, abnormal from the subjective standards of society, and innocently guilty of daily, normal activities, portraying how deeply scarred those false and toxic beliefs left her. Educated is a beautiful piece of writing that has shone the disadvantages of how a lack of education and experiences can take a toll on somebody’s self esteem and individuality. Naivety of one’s surroundings deteriorates a person and leaves them caught on a door handle, left behind in the splinters of society’s criticism and lack of situational understanding. Tara was unquestionably stripped from a necessary principle that might always stay cemented in the depths of her mind, but she learned to treat that adversity and decided to produce something so honorable from something so strenuous. Everybody is entitled to an education, just as if I had everyone read one book, it would be Educated by Tara Westover, because her book raises awareness of how ignorant society can be to those who are titled as “abnormal” and shows the true definition of one of my favorite quotes: "Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable" (Cesar A. Cruz). Her book can comfort the discomforted, people who are or were in similar situations of societal exclusion due to a less common background in their life, but it can also discomfort the comfortable by opening their eyes of others' misfortunes and educate them on how to be accepting instead of hateful–to be mindful and objective rather than leading oneself by assumptions. Literature similar to her book is significant because it is ugly but beautiful at the same time; I like the interference of those separate and inverse concepts.

When I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lay in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this. When I got back to my school, I had thought I lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day and felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue being motivated enough to walk down the road of healthcare. The aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, playing instruments, and sculpting. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. This altogether is why I am encouraged with a theatrical joy by STEAM; the sciences, the technology, the engineering, the artistry, and the mathematics--everything united in its entirety is what I have the vehemence for most in my life. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after learning through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. My anxiety has prospered through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining environment that high school is would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of communicating. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, though, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same English teacher and steadily, annually, going through a class that perpetually got worse while consisting of extreme standards and classroom public presentations that would petrify my disease of anxiety, I learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty; I will disassemble my hideous inside features and sculpt them into magnificently blending words. Learning how to overcome a cratering anxiety has led me to want to understand others that have the same hardships as I have had. I want to nurture others for the sake of their loneliness and self-judgement and let them know that they are heard and felt in conjunction. All around, I want to heal others in their entirety. Nursing is the career I have set my path upon, then I may decide to further my career through medical school then surgical residency; I want to sculpt other's burdens into something worthy as well because I have felt firsthand how alone it can be having a brain and being in a world that are both against oneself, and by making even a tiny dent in society's communicable disease of social fear, I can make psychological understanding and physical well-being less scarce.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. I can run the same amount of miles as anyone else because having the knowledge to move my legs is not the problem. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. In retrospect, her system of tough love and honorable academic austerity promoted beneficial outcomes. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, though, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher and steadily, annually, going through a class that perpetually got worse while consisting of extreme standards that would petrify my disease of anxiety, I learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty; I will disassemble my hideous inside features and sculpt them into magnificently blending words. Learning how to overcome a cratering anxiety has led me to want to understand others that have the same hardships as I. I want to nurture others for the sake of their loneliness and self-judgement and let them know that they are heard and felt in conjunction. All around, I want to heal others in their entirety. Nursing is the career I have set my path upon, then I may decide to further my career through medical school then surgical residency; I want to sculpt other's burdens into something worthy as well.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing. Working with the young is a beautiful opportunity that I hope to achieve because I will be mending and molding a part of them and they will sprout like seeds and grow with a mark of my helping hands. I want to engage with lives at their earliest and prepare their health for their bright futures with a protectant of affectionate hands.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing. In the field of healthcare, one has to fight or work diligently for another in many aspects. Debate can closely relate to an act of moral judgement that would be tangible in the setting of samaritanism and practicing that in debating can be beneficial to learning how to confidently speak up for things I find worthy of vigilance.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. He smiled with tears fulfilling his eyes and I knew at that moment I genuinely meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out because I was introduced to such a magnificent feeling of nurturing and bonding with somebody. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present. I ecstatically await my journey in a four year nursing program and anticipate the pediatric, neonatal, or emergency section, but I know I will succumb to the indecisiveness of rendering my care to every area of nursing.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. I can run the same amount of miles as anyone else because having the knowledge to move my legs is not the problem. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. In retrospect, her system of tough love and honorable academic austerity promoted beneficial outcomes. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, though, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher and steadily, annually, going through a class that perpetually got worse while consisting of extreme standards that would petrify my disease of anxiety, I learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty; I will disassemble my hideous inside features and sculpt them into magnificently blending words.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Relating to my magnetic pull to a variety of artistic values and my undying passion to heal the craft of anatomy have surrounded, the two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body’s burdens and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I understand that being a medical provider is not only physical, but through my first-hand, mental understanding, I have learned to have compassion and sympathetic tolerance to others’ struggles.

Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for an osteopathic medical school. As I am aspiring to go into the medical profession, not only does it include the drive of interest in the study, but it also means that I should have the longing for compassion, understanding, and selflessness towards others. Recently, I completed a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant at a local nursing home. I developed a love for the delicate skinned and disadvantaged patients who needed only a smile--or any simple acts of kindness--to warm the atmosphere. The elderly are often lonely, or distraught and in need of compassion. I then decided to become a “pen-pal” to my great grandmother, or as I call her: Nannie. She always sent letters to me as a child, and soon I grew great guilt of how I ignored ever writing back. Now, as I realize that life goes by too quickly, I should have responded to her letters, so I decided to make it up to her before I knew it was too late. I sent the first letter in the mail, filled with patches I made, crochet hearts, flower petals, a drawing of a girl with an umbrella in a garden, and of course a hand-written letter describing my recent life. She was appreciative of this and wrote back with a letter held inside of a watercolor envelope with flowers and butterflies. I ecstatically opened it and she accepted the offer of becoming my pen-pal. We write back at least once a month, and we see each other twice a year where she offers some jars of home-made jelly. Her beauty, both inner and outer, is honorable enough to paint; and that is what I did. I discovered a love for painting overall and continued with the delicacy of the silky brush strands.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Relating to my magnetic pull to a variety of artistic values and my undying passion to heal the craft of anatomy have surrounded, the two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body’s burdens and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I understand that being a medical provider is not only physical, but through my first-hand, mental understanding, I have learned to have compassion and sympathetic tolerance to others’ struggles.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Relating to my magnetic pull to a variety of artistic values and my undying passion to heal the craft of anatomy have surrounded, the two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body’s burdens and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I understand that being a medical provider is not only physical, but through my first-hand, mental understanding, I have learned to have compassion and sympathetic tolerance to others’ struggles.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Relating to my magnetic pull to a variety of artistic values and my undying passion to heal the craft of anatomy have surrounded, the two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body’s burdens and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I understand that being a medical provider is not only physical, but through my first-hand, mental understanding, I have learned to have compassion and sympathetic tolerance to others’ struggles. Each person can discover a system of management for their mental adversities by becoming even slightly open to their apprehensions. It is honorably difficult and a process of stubborn preliminary, but in the end, for me, it was worth it, because now, even though I still struggle with the process of opening to being viewed through my peers, I still can find ways to thaw my cold, slowed movements to logically interpret my overthought, mental exaggerations and instead encourage learning through mistakes instead of dreading their potential consequences. Translating my struggles into sentimental and mind-relating analogies and metaphors allows a new-found understanding that minimal errors should not end my reputation; this wellness allows me serenity of my thoughts and outer awareness. Since I am a follower of Christianity, I believe that these managements of mental sorrows are blessings that God has created for us to use in the depths of the cruel world that humanity has created. I have learned that my hardships are not the blame of God, but instead the consequences of the world’s sin. Although we struggle, it does not mean we are cemented into the quick-sand of mental and physical problems. Some see their life’s resistance without escape, but we must encourage one another to find the hope that we are blinded from.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Each person can discover a system of management for their mental adversities by becoming even slightly open to their apprehensions. It is honorably difficult and a process of stubborn preliminary, but in the end, for me, it was worth it, because now, even though I still struggle with the process of opening to being viewed through my peers, I still can find ways to thaw my cold, slowed movements to logically interpret my overthought, mental exaggerations and instead encourage learning through mistakes instead of dreading their potential consequences. Translating my struggles into sentimental and mind-relating analogies and metaphors allows a new-found understanding that minimal errors should not end my reputation; this wellness allows me serenity of my thoughts and outer awareness.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Relating to my magnetic pull to a variety of artistic values and my undying passion to heal the craft of anatomy have surrounded, the two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body’s burdens and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I understand that being a medical provider is not only physical, but through my first-hand, mental understanding, I have learned to have compassion and sympathetic tolerance to others’ struggles.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and her class did not seem to help that hatred, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher, I steadily learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty. Relating to my magnetic pull to a variety of artistic values and my undying passion to heal the craft of anatomy have surrounded, the two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body’s burdens and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. I understand that being a medical provider is not only physical, but through my first-hand, mental understanding, I have learned to have compassion and sympathetic tolerance to others’ struggles.

Gray's Anatomy by Henry Grey is a foundational, informational, and lengthy book for the studies in the medical field, almost similar to what one would call the "Bible" of healthcare. As it has outdated some in time, the descriptive myriad of illustrations of anatomical structures followed by details to the final degree is astounding and beneficial to especially those who yearn to work in the surgical field. Reading the detailed narrations of each individual section of human structure and physiology has brought me to long for further education in the field of surgical practice, because it is a servicing art form. I am fondly abled in manual arts and have the compassion to give my heart’s and hands’ service to others that are in need. I never understood beforehand what I wanted to accomplish, live my life as, how I wanted to leave a legacy or affect others, or even understand what field I was meant for; the only thing I knew was that I was artistic and had the passion for science, and I believed that these two passions could only be split, that I could not have the decision of blending them into a career form that is favorable to my interests, making this choice of permanency difficult to decide on. This belief was contrary to the incentive that I soon found, though, which was the film that was inspired by the book: Grey’s Anatomy. Rather with an ‘a’, the title was spelled with an ‘e’. I discovered this honorary film when I was fourteen, curious after hearing so much about it from my peers, not expecting much in return to my liking. After becoming plagued by it after the first few episodes, I watched continuously each day after I would complete my virtual school-work. Although it was a drama and comedy, I was being introduced to the field of what surgeons did on a personal, aspiring level; I was given the reasons why the field is admirable. Before this, I did not know the depths in what surgeons did: they are both understanding, nurturing caregivers and talented, competitive medical providers. I started searching online for real, recorded surgeries and was astounded by the art of mending the body’s tissues. I went deeper and further into this newfound interest and knew immediately that that field is meant for me. It has been four years now and I have been laying in this determination dome since. There are great differences between the book and the film series, for example, the book is based upon the studies of surgical techniques, while the series shows a more personal, fictional fantasy of the realm of the career. Both are very inspiring and informative through unique manners that can open the eyes of those who are hand-crafted for the specific field. Performing surgery, in my eyes, is a field of tedious repertoires, and through these two media, they have only proven and represented that this field deeply requires a permanent talent and a loyal passion.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. I can run the same amount of miles as anyone else because having the knowledge to move my legs is not the problem. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. In retrospect, her system of tough love and honorable academic austerity promoted beneficial outcomes. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, though, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher and steadily, annually, going through a class that perpetually got worse while consisting of extreme standards that would petrify my disease of anxiety, I learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty; I will disassemble my hideous inside features and sculpt them into magnificently blending words.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. Even after my clinicals were over, my mom offered to bring me to the nursing home so that I could pass out Christmas cakes and even see my favorite resident. When we got to his room, he sat up on his bed and put on his slippers. We noticed he was wearing the hat that I made for him. “We brought some cakes, would you like one?” He gasped and gave a thumbs-up. He put his arms out, insinuating a hug, and I gladly accepted it. My mother offered to take a photo of us together to which he agreed. When I looked back on this photo, I didn’t realize how much he smiled and had his eyes filled with a light of being loved. I printed out this photo and created a card with Christmas themed designs and sent it in the mail to him. I genuinely felt like I meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook. This scholarship would greatly help me walk up the long staircase of my journey through healthcare. Money has been my biggest worry-inducer when it comes to the idea of going to college, one that might prevent me from going through with the lengthy and expensive career path that I am longing to go down. This money, even if not such an immense amount of money, not only would significantly help the future of my career, but also the patients that I will have the honor to cross paths with along the way.

I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook. This scholarship would greatly help me walk up the long staircase of my journey through healthcare. Money has been my biggest worry-inducer when it comes to the idea of going to college, one that might prevent me from going through with the lengthy and expensive career path that I am longing to go down. This money, even if not such an immense amount of money, not only would significantly help the future of my career, but also the patients that I will have the honor to cross paths with along the way.

I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook. This scholarship would greatly help me walk up the long staircase of my journey through healthcare. Money has been my biggest worry-inducer when it comes to the idea of going to college, one that might prevent me from going through with the lengthy and expensive career path that I am longing to go down. This money, even if not such an immense amount of money, not only would significantly help the future of my career, but also the patients that I will have the honor to cross paths with along the way.

Gray's Anatomy by Henry Grey is a foundational, informational, and lengthy book for the studies in the medical field, almost similar to what one would call the "Bible" of healthcare. As it has outdated some in time, the descriptive myriad of illustrations of anatomical structures followed by details to the final degree is astounding and beneficial to especially those who yearn to work in the surgical field. Reading the detailed narrations of each individual section of human structure and physiology has brought me to long for further education in the field of surgical practice, because it is a servicing art form. I am fondly abled in manual arts and have the compassion to give my heart’s and hands’ service to others that are in need. I never understood beforehand what I wanted to accomplish, live my life as, how I wanted to leave a legacy or affect others, or even understand what field I was meant for; the only thing I knew was that I was artistic and had the passion for science, and I believed that these two passions could only be split, that I could not have the decision of blending them into a career form that is favorable to my interests, making this choice of permanency difficult to decide on. This belief was contrary to the incentive that I soon found, though, which was the film that was inspired by the book: Grey’s Anatomy. Rather with an ‘a’, the title was spelled with an ‘e’. I discovered this honorary film when I was fourteen, curious after hearing so much about it from my peers, not expecting much in return to my liking. After becoming plagued by it after the first few episodes, I watched continuously each day after I would complete my virtual school-work. Although it was a drama and comedy, I was being introduced to the field of what surgeons did on a personal, aspiring level; I was given the reasons that the field is admirable. Before this, I did not know the depths in what surgeons did: they are both understanding, nurturing caregivers and talented, competitive medical providers. I started searching online for real, recorded surgeries and was astounded by the art of mending the body’s tissues. I went deeper and further into this newfound interest and knew immediately that that field is meant for me. It has been four years now and I have been laying in this determination dome since. There are great differences between the book and the film series, for example, the book is based upon the studies of surgical techniques, while the series shows a more personal, fictional fantasy of the realm of the career. Both are very inspiring and informative through unique manners that can open the eyes of those who are hand-crafted for the specific field. Performing surgery, in my eyes, is a field of tedious repertoires, and through these two media, they have only proven and represented that this field deeply requires a permanent talent and a loyal passion.

Gray's Anatomy by Henry Grey is a foundational, informational, and lengthy book for the studies in the medical field, almost similar to what one would call the "Bible" of healthcare. As it has outdated some in time, the descriptive myriad of illustrations of anatomical structures followed by details to the final degree is astounding and beneficial to especially those who yearn to work in the surgical field. Reading the detailed narrations of each individual section of human structure and physiology has brought me to long for further education in the field of surgical practice, because it is a servicing art form. I am fondly abled in manual arts and have the compassion to give my heart’s and hands’ service to others that are in need. I never understood beforehand what I wanted to accomplish, live my life as, how I wanted to leave a legacy or affect others, or even understand what field I was meant for; the only thing I knew was that I was artistic and had the passion for science, and I believed that these two passions could only be split, that I could not have the decision of blending them into a career form that is favorable to my interests, making this choice of permanency difficult to decide on. This belief was contrary to the incentive that I soon found, though, which was the film that was inspired by the book: Grey’s Anatomy. Rather with an ‘a’, the title was spelled with an ‘e’. I discovered this honorary film when I was fourteen, curious after hearing so much about it from my peers, not expecting much in return to my liking. After becoming plagued by it after the first few episodes, I watched continuously each day after I would complete my virtual school-work. Although it was a drama and comedy, I was being introduced to the field of what surgeons did on a personal, aspiring level; I was given the reasons that the field is admirable. Before this, I did not know the depths in what surgeons did: they are both understanding, nurturing caregivers and talented, competitive medical providers. I started searching online for real, recorded surgeries and was astounded by the art of mending the body’s tissues. I went deeper and further into this newfound interest and knew immediately that that field is meant for me. It has been four years now and I have been laying in this determination dome since. There are great differences between the book and the film series, for example, the book is based upon the studies of surgical techniques, while the series shows a more personal, fictional fantasy of the realm of the career. Both are very inspiring and informative through unique manners that can open the eyes of those who are hand-crafted for the specific field. Performing surgery, in my eyes, is a field of tedious repertoires, and through these two media, they have only proven and represented that this field deeply requires a permanent talent and a loyal passion.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy and the way its mind functions have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook. This scholarship would greatly help me walk up the long staircase of my journey through healthcare. This money, even if not such an immense amount of money, not only would significantly help the future of my career, but also the patients that I will have the honor to cross paths with along the way

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I was the top of my class, teaching and leading my peers in the right direction and given multiple, encouraging comments of positive feedback from my instructors for my strong leadership, demeanor, and work-ethic. Along the way I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook. This scholarship would greatly help me walk up the long staircase of my journey through healthcare. This money, even if not such an immense amount of money, not only would significantly help the future of my career, but also the patients that I will have the honor to cross paths with along the way.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I found my nursing assistant aide and immediately was told to prepare for a resident to take a shower. He was non-verbal but communicated through the hand sign of a thumbs-up and through an impeccable sense of understanding of my nervosity. We walked him to his room afterwards, and he gave me a thumbs-up signal, and before I turned around to leave, I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up in return; my heart created a feeling of connection to a patient, an emotional tenderness I never had to discover until now. During the next week, there was a birthday event happening in the dining room, and I was to bring and assist the same resident to walk over there. When we got there, he walked over to a table and pulled out his seat, then he went to another seat and my heart dropped as I realized he was kind and selfless enough to pull out a seat for me and my eyes began to swell. I gave him a gracious thank you and sat down with him while the guests began singing gospel songs. When I noticed it was time for my class to leave, I let him know that I had to go, and he began to get up. I continuously begged him to stay and not to allow me to make him leave. I couldn’t stop him so I decided to walk him to his room. It was a long walk and a long way from the dining area to his room, and I depended upon a bus, but I didn’t care because he was my priority, and I had this heart-warming feeling of self-fulfillment of being kind and hoping to continuously feel this passion towards others in my servicing hands for the rest of my career’s journey. I decided before the next week to crochet a beanie for him as an early Christmas gift. The day of, after two hours of shadowing our assigned aides, we had to take a break since they had finished their rounds, and this gave me a chance to go visit him and give him the beanie. He was laying in his bed and sat up when I came in. He smiled and grabbed it from me, struggling at first until I assisted. He saw the beanie and quickly wore it. “It looks great on you,” I said in adoration. Even after my clinicals were over, my mom offered to bring me to the nursing home so that I could pass out Christmas cakes and even see my favorite resident. When we got to his room, he sat up on his bed and put on his slippers. We noticed he was wearing the hat that I made for him. “We brought some cakes, would you like one?” He gasped and gave a thumbs-up. He put his arms out, insinuating a hug, and I gladly accepted it. My mother offered to take a photo of us together to which he agreed. When I looked back on this photo, I didn’t realize how much he smiled and had his eyes filled with a light of being loved. I printed out this photo and created a card with Christmas themed designs and sent it in the mail to him. I genuinely felt like I meant something to somebody, and I desire to continue working in healthcare until the day my legs give out. Although he was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that love and care is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication when love is present.

One can run miles if their legs are free from opposite traction. I can run the same amount of miles as anyone else because having the knowledge to move my legs is not the problem. As I can move my legs in the same force and duration as others, they cannot arrive at an average of the locations that my peers come to; I appear behind in length, meaning I am forced to travel twice the amount to access the position easily found by most. It is as if I am in interference with a mechanical belt that runs opposite of my forth-going direction; I am slowed, having to travel extensively longer at the average or above average self preparation and fortitude. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even remotely in my favor, because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. In retrospect, her system of tough love and honorable academic austerity promoted beneficial outcomes. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, though, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer did not interest me in the slightest. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher and steadily, annually, going through a class that perpetually got worse while consisting of extreme standards that would petrify my disease of anxiety, I learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty; I will disassemble my hideous inside features and sculpt them into magnificently blending words.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Dr. Jack Terry's story showed honorable fortitude and a desperate longing at such a young age to overcome horrible events that should not define or take over who somebody is. He truly sought to define his life in his means and not allow such trauma to overcome his life in a negative manner. As I have gone through adversity, I have not experienced slightly close in depth to what he did, but I did experience something that I refused to allow to overcome me in such an ill aspect. My anxiety has prospered and circulated through my nerves since I was a blossoming teenager. I began to feel that social intimidation and hyper-self-ism that young adults soon do, but mine noticeably became overwhelmingly extensive to the point that it forced me to believe I was wrongfully different. Discovering this and still seeking higher education, I learned quickly that the constant, socially draining presentations and socially required assignments would not be even slightly in my favor because I was inept of that vital nature of verbosity. During my past presentations, I would achieve concern and earn ill reactions from my peers by the state of my ineligible stutters, unkempt crying, and borderline hyperventilation episodes. This was majorly due to my English class’ assignments, as the teacher held high standards and pushed her students out of their comfort zones. In retrospect, her system of tough love and honorable academic austerity promoted beneficial outcomes. I despised all things that came to writing, reading in any form, and expressing things through a system of words that did not mean anything to me unless I took the effort to infer. Throughout the three years of having the same teacher and steadily, annually, going through a class that perpetually got worse while consisting of extreme standards that would petrify my disease of anxiety, I learned to be open to what she taught and to other literature that came out of the quills of authors who had dreams and hardships like I did; I then became an author of my own. Through poetry, creative writing, and journaling, with most of it consisting of figures of speech, such as analogies, metaphors, and juxtapositions, this newfound, adroit ability allowed me to better understand myself and place a beautiful perspective upon my hardships. Although I have not fully overcome but only a small percentage of my anxiety’s cemented anchors, I have learned to adapt, build wings, and drink the water around me that attempts to push me further away from my intended destination. I have decided not to allow my wings to succumb to the weight of the ocean that is my anxiety and rather tread by creating water-repellent words of transmuted beauty; I will disassemble my hideous inside features and sculpt them into magnificently blending words.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as writing, detailed painting, instruments, and sculpting. The aptitude for art and the service to healing the craft of anatomy have surrounded my interests ever since my mind could conduct thoughts I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness; I hope to be the yellow paint to my patients. Due to this passion, when I was offered to take a free nursing assisting class to have early experience in healthcare, I immediately signed up. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck as I questioned if I was meant to become the surgeon I hope to become one day, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

As I walked in the cold but warm atmosphere anxiously, I only stared at the floor, and not the fatigued or frail faces that inhabited the groggy, but aesthetically calming halls. I felt pity, empathy, and a desire to show them love because one truly cannot understand the depths of another's hidden life conflicts. A smile of genuineness will potentially curate someone's desolate mind. Our nurse aide walked us around and nonchalantly dealt with patients who I had thought had the most glass shattering skin. Tears struck when I questioned if I was meant to continue further than even this field of simple healthcare, because I couldn’t manage watching a resident in front of me lie in a harrowing pain and deteriorate through natural causes. As soon as the first class day was dismissed, I walked with an emptiness in me. I questioned the utter demeanor of what God was and if we mattered to Him; how tiny and unmeaningful we must be for Him to allow this, I thought. His bare hands made these helpless, innocent beings and then He seemingly forsook them and allowed them to rot in suffering. When I got back to my school, I walked to my final class. I had lost the strength to continue the nursing assistant program even by a single day, and I felt useless and doubtful of my future endeavors. When I reached the classroom, a note on the door stated that our teacher wouldn't be there that day, so I headed to the counselors office to find out where else to go. While going, I stepped across this hot pink sticky note that lay face down on the floor. I decided to pick it up and on it said "strength" at the very top and a verse from the Bible following it from one of my favorite books in the Bible: Psalms 37:4 which states, "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." One of very few times that teacher was out of his classroom, and it just happened to be that day, with that note on the passer ground. It fit so well with the complicated emotions I felt, enough to cause me to proudly tape it onto a singular glove leftover in my scrubs’ pocket and place it on my bedroom wall as a reminder to not lose hope and to continue walking down the road of healthcare. I stayed resilient throughout the rest of my clinicals and instead of witnessing all of the downsides in working in healthcare, I bonded with people who taught me a myriad of valuable lessons that I will carry unceasingly in my pockets. I was taught bountiful lessons, one of which taught me that compassion is without boundaries, that gestures and having a bond speak louder than verbal communication. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I can fuel others lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

Although I am young, I am knowledgeable beyond the ones blinded by the idea that wisdom is only gained through the process of living through a wide amount of time. I believe that intelligence is earned by having and maintaining a relentless desire for independence and knowledge. Having this attribute brings me to seek further experience and service to humanity because no matter how far I walk in my journey of education and manual interests, there is no dead end to a road unless the foundation to travel is being destroyed by my own sabotages. Quitting binds ignorance because there is no possibility that humanity can ever know enough; I want to consume as much knowledge as I can to get as close to the impossible possibility of knowing enough to use that ability as a talent of nurturing with sagacity. Throughout my life, the aptitude for art and the desire to study the craft of anatomy have surrounded my personage. I have taught myself the techniques of tedious and patient-testing arts, such as thoughtful writing, delicately detailed painting, playing instruments, and intricate sculpting, since a young age. I have grown further in love with an ocean of paint that I have acquired gills for, and I am fascinated with the human body and the medicine that can cure its burdens such as the yellow paint that Van Gogh tasted for the hope of happiness. The two passions of learning the intricacy of each system of human anatomy and manipulating and capturing the deepest, minuscule details of meaningful imagery have influenced me to combine them into a career desire that I know I would have the willpower to do; the art and craft of surgery, or in other words, the act of mending the human body and having the selflessness of providing pristine medical care repertoires to others. Becoming a surgeon is my long-term goal after completing a Bachelor's degree in Science in Nursing. I aim to learn through mistakes and lessons through the palpable experience that a competitive nursing program offers while also completing prerequisites for medical school. Recently, I finished a co-enrolled class that taught me a foundation in care-giving where I studied and then worked as a nursing assistant. I met an impactful, loving resident that I bonded with and will remember for the rest of my career's journey. Although my resident was non-verbal, I was taught a lesson that compassion is without boundaries, and that gestures and love speak louder than verbal communication. The basis of nursing and further medical expertise teaches valuable morals and emotional and physical understanding of others that I am impatient to begin. With only minimal experience, I already am assured that I want to live a life knowing that I fuel others' lives, and in return, that gives me a worthiness to live. It is a cycle that I admire; it’s a gracious act that Christ has allowed us to offer others in the depths of a cruel world that we forsook.

I can’t place myself in the main center or toss the reel of words out of my mind into the ocean of my peers as many my age do. With the vast horror that lay upon my skin when it came to presenting, my teacher seemed to have class debates, group slideshows, constructive responses/essays, and verbal projects multiple times each week. The burning I felt from the socially draining projects began to fade the outer layer of my skin. I became more sensitive to the cold air that surrounded me as a class of twenty watched me and occasionally chuckled at my stutters or gave me muddled looks because they couldn’t see the reason why I was so anxious. There were no routes out of the piercing surveillance of my potential mistakes to the judgemental viewers. My heart burst and my lips quivered; my voice stopped and more eyes watched. It got worse each second and I would give up and rupture into this ill-informed turmoil. I knew I was intelligent and felt restrained and frustrated each time I couldn’t spit out my thoughts. I have leadership potential but it is as if somebody was so desperate enough to tie away my knowledge and initiative into a cell where it can never reach out of my body. Would somebody ever find a key for the cell that it was locked away in? Could somebody ever dig into the dirt it is hidden and rinse it of the impurities? Why can’t I pull it out of the rope that is my tongue? When I had finally made it through my two-year sentence in that trepidation, I sighed in great relief at the school awards assembly. After my friend spoke to our teacher and said she was sad to move on to a different English class, we were informed that she was asked to take the place of an English IV teacher. A rush flew into my stomach and out of my feet. I looked forward to being released from this teacher's rigorous teaching ethic. This meant I would be facing yet another ten months of continual socially manipulative activities that I believed had no use whatsoever for my future. All the essays I was strictly criticized on, all the forced presentations I did without any motivation except for the end-of-period bell, and all of the exaggerated insights and inferences to the books we read were all going to be repeated. At the end of every half-semester, she passes out these hand-written, personal notes to her students either about their talent, intelligence, or improvements that she has noticed. When I received my previous note, she wrote that she could see how I had slowly seeped out of my shell and how proud she was of me for it. At that moment, I felt guilty for how much I spoke badly about her intimidating class. She had chipped away the tough cement barrier I built on my body. I have come to greatly appreciate this as it is what allowed me to widen my vocabulary, hold myself to do things that I didn’t like that benefited the way I presented myself and my learning, enhance my skills to read in-between the lines of imagination in the words of authors, and understand how intertwined patterns are inside a book and the outside world. Even though at times I still despise her for throwing me out of her bird’s nest to fly on my own, I later appreciate how I am being exposed to overcoming something I am so apprehensive of.

To suffer is to be diminished. Preventing further damage is what it is to be a caregiver. To heal is to strengthen. Mending others' physical and emotional stances is what it is to be a caregiver. Nursing is the privilege of providing adequate care to the ones who cannot do it for themselves. I watch with a longing eye as the world burns itself in corruption and hatred of one another. There is an increase in ruthless discrimination against others who do not match certain beliefs with one another. Humanity fails to realize that every one of us still has emotions and should not be treated any less than another based on our differences. My heart is in a paining urge and determination to assist others in need. I always try to place myself into others' mindsets and life situations attempting to understand why they react as they do and how they must be feeling. It is unfair to expect people who are going through hardships to treat you the best. I know to forgive them for their reactions because it is not a personal attack against me. I realize that it is their projection of anger due to their situation and I want to lessen that pain they are feeling because not only does it affect them, it also affects the people surrounding them. A constant tense and conflicting behavior often is due to them being lonely or debilitated or feeling helpless, ignorant, or burdening. I believe nobody should be placed into experiencing this great trammel. The nursing career is entirely patient-focused including providing care for their mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. It is truly a beautiful act of selflessness and patience which are necessary traits that I so dearly admire to have. It requires resilience, determination, competitiveness, compassion, dignity, and humbleness. Building up all possible knowledge and personal skills and restraints to devote thousands of hours of my life to share my own two loving hands with people who have little to nobody is a fulfilling opportunity to accomplish in my life. My one and only role model and inspiration, Jesus Christ himself, is the most famous healer of them all. He mends hearts back together after they have been shattered to shreds. He physically heals the most impossible disabilities and cases that there could be. He spiritually lifts a person and changes them for the best of benefits for both themselves and others. He mentally prepares and strengthens people from what burdens them most. I want to follow in the selfless footsteps of my Savior and help heal others to my fullest potential. I deeply aspire to affect lives in the most beneficial ways I could do under God’s allowance. I want to have an impact on them by leaving my handprints along their soul. To be there for someone when they are at their lowest point is such a beautiful act because they allow themselves to be at an extreme vulnerability in which you are held respectable by validating their feelings and encouraging them to stay strong. In the medical field, many who work in caregiving are not truly there for the benefit of others and I hope to improve the expectations of the medical field altogether and make a legacy not just among individuals, but among the world of healthcare.

I admire the delicate work of being a life-changing surgeon by affecting those who deserve the chance of an extension of their lives.