In the most literal sense, philosophy means "the love of wisdom." It's the study of nature, truth, and the fundamental ideas of existence and reality itself. To me, philosophy perfectly encapsulates all of the beauty this world has to offer. Philosophy is quite literally the study of knowledge and humanity itself-- yet so many people treat it as if it's nothing but pretentious prattle. When I was in eighth grade, my interest in philosophy began to blossom. Collections of books written hundreds of years ago filled my bookshelves, piling higher than the mountaintops. I talked incessantly with anyone who'd listen to me about my own thoughts about reality and existentialism, ignoring their rolling eyes and fidgety hands. I couldn't understand their disinterest, nor could I understand their flippant and dismissive responses. Once I reached the tenth grade, I finally began to understand. My main class of the day was part of a teaching program, and many of our assignments revolved around making lessons, activities, and plans for the class. In many of these mock lessons, I would fixate on philosophy, jabbering on and on about anything I could fit into a thirty minute session. One day, my teacher pulled me aside after class. She told me about how she believed no one cared about philosophy. With a confident and snarky look in her eye, she informed me about how it was a useless degree, a dying career field, and a practice that was already buried six feet under. To put it shortly, I was told to give up. I was told to find a fixation that was 'normal,' 'useful,' and 'alive.' I have been described by many people to be driven by spite. To this day, I believe that to be true. After that talk, I made sure to make every lesson I taught focused around philosophy, morality, and ethics. For two years I taught the class the importance of philosophy and ethics, whether in teaching or in any other field they may want to pursue. That same teacher tried many times to shoot me down, and many times did I dodge her relentless bullets. I was not going to give up just because I was told to. Philosophy is a practice as alive as any other, living as fruitfully as any other practice. Philosophy is engrained in everything, rooted in everything we do. I ended up transferring to a different high school late in my junior year. However, I was sure to send a copy of my college acceptance letter to that teacher. An acceptance letter for a major in philosophy, 25 hours away from home.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is like a parasite. It unwillingly sits inside of you, eating you from the inside out. PTSD takes everything from you with malicious intent, it takes so quickly you barely have time to register what you've been missing. No one understands it quite like you do, and it feels like you're all alone in a void with just you and your parasite. I was diagnosed with PTSD in the tenth grade. Before that point, I was diagnosed with chronic depression, chronic suicidality, and a few separate learning disorders. Those stuck around, and they still affect me to this day. I was also falsely diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder and schizophrenia. They claimed that I had no empathy and that my nightmares were caused by hallucinations and distortions of reality. The psychologists claimed that I was beyond saving and that my parents should just strive for the day I moved out of the house. I wasn't meant to hear all of that, but I did. Those words infected the perception I had of myself for years, and it still does. My PTSD Diagnosis hit two years after I was diagnosed with Antisocial and Schizophrenia. The psychologists revoked the previous two diagnoses, which made me come to my first realization. The professionals aren't always right, they don't always take the time to dive deeper. The only thing that got me properly diagnosed was a therapist who worked her way into gaining my trust, not a psychologist who took the symptoms at face value. I realized that the world puts these doctors on a higher pedestal than those who genuinely care for people, and I started questioning who I should truly trust. My goals changed along with the changing of my diagnosis. When I was hit with what was truly happening to me, I wanted to educate others. I wanted to pursue education, teaching others that life has meaning through philosophy. Philosophy became my one true love, the one thing I strove to understand more than anything else. It taught me that everyone and everything has a purpose. Philosophy taught me how everything is connected in such a beautiful way that it still leaves me stunned to this day. My relationships changed as well. I see everyone as a potential danger, I overanalyze everything and miss out on a lot of opportunities because of it. I lost connection with the majority of my family, many of whom refused to believe that one of their sons could hurt me in such a way. They called me a liar, and I let them. I didn't care what they thought, because if they wouldn't listen to me despite all the evidence, then what was the point of wasting time? Slowly, I realized that many things wasted my time. Worrying about what other people thought was a waste, striving to do what others wanted instead of what I wanted was a waste. I decided that I wasn't going to waste my life anymore, I wasn't going to let anyone, past, future, or present, define what I was going to do or who I was. PTSD changed me. It changed how I see the world, and it changed how I see humanity. However, when I stop to think about it, maybe those changes were necessary. Maybe those changes were what led me onto the right path.

"I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais!" -Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita. Vladimir Nabokov's 'Lolita' has long since been on the list of banned books, shunned by society and critics ever since its release. Every time that I tell others that I have completed multiple in-depth studies of Lolita, they give me weird looks and question me. They ask me why I'd read such a terrible book, why I love to talk about it so much, and why I insist that it's a necessary read. Of course, I don't blame them. Lolita is often referenced as nothing else but child exploitation and fantasies of a sick author by many who speak of it. Yet I insist to you that Vladimir Nabokov shouldn't be shunned, I insist that he's rolling in his grave every time they slander his book. I believe that Lolita is his masterpiece, a masterpiece that many others need to be exposed to. I believe that Lolita needs to be spoken of as more than a banned book. If you read online summaries, one conclusion is shared by many. Lolita was, according to them, meant to be an unconventional 'love story.' That is wrong, it is the most annoying and abhorrent statement that I've ever had the displeasure of finding within the cover of my personal copy. It was so infuriating that I ripped out the editor's notes, painting over the engraved cover with bright red paint. If you were to take the time to simply read the foreword of the novel, the character analyzing the 'memoir' tells you clearly that Humbert Humbert is a monster. He is a horrible human being, and there is no real 'love' in the entire story. So why should the world read this? Humbert Humbert plays the role of the 'non-stereotypical Pedophile.' He's the socially respected man, the educated professor, the father that no one would suspect. Still to this day, we stereotype dangerous people as ugly and obvious. Lolita can break those stereotypes, while also exploring the psychological aspects a child goes through while being abused. Lolita can bring understanding to the myths and stereotypes that cloud the idea of abuse. Lolita can bring education, entering the minds of the victim and abuser at the same time. Lolita is more than a banned book.

When I first had an older mentor of mine read my tarot, she cringed at the card she pulled out for my future. Putting it down, she only had a few words to say about the ominous card. "Crisis is coming to you. Everything is collapsing, and it'll upheave like you've never seen before. Your future will revolve around The Tower." Of course, I was terrified. I was looking around my life for what was about to be upheaved for months, and unsurprisingly, it came. I failed Pre-Calc and Chemistry, putting me on probation for the early college degree I was planning to achieve. Soon enough, my only option was to transfer schools, leaving my life on a halt. The Tower is a commonly hated card. Everyone I've ever asked who reads the cards swears that it's the only 'bad card.' They'd rather pull The Devil, they'd rather pull Death, and I've even heard that they'd rather pull a reversed Temperance on a reading about their new relationship. When I got my own deck, I found myself pulling The Tower over and over again. My life was built up just to collapse, all of my plans coming and going like a building on unsteady ground. Somehow, I didn't hate The Tower, I never did. Slowly, I learned to welcome its presence like an old friend of mine. Of course, he would knock at the most unexpected times, but he'd always leave me with a gift. The gift was renewal. When you've built up a tower, you believe it'll stand forever. That's what the old kings thought when they built their castles, that's what parents think when they build their families. The tower stays, even when there are cracks and rotting within its structure. You'll walk through that tower just as you walk through life, ignoring the creaking of the floorboards with the thought that everything is normal. Sometimes, the thing that people need is for the tower to collapse. When the tower collapses, you see what's possible. You're left with an empty plot of land, ready to be built upon once again. You can build your tower better, you can build it stronger and more resilient. I believe that if one doesn't welcome the tower, they're being complacent to the inadequacies and dangers that plague their life. I believe that people need to learn to let their towers collapse. The Tower will always hold a special place in my heart. To me, The Tower means that it's time to rebuild. It's the blunt warning that I need, and will always be welcomed in any reading I do.

Love and loss is an incredibly important aspect to the human experience as a whole. But if you lost someone who told you that they loved you without knowing what it meant, what would you do? Violet Evergarden works to explore this concept, with our main character losing her mentor, Major Gilbert, in battle. She'd been in the military since she was a young child, learning and growing underneath the corps until she was an adult. Gilbert Bougainvillea, her closest friend, was the one who named her. He was the first one who treated her as a person as opposed to a tool. When Violet lost him in a grisly bombing, she didn't know what to think when his last words were a confession of love. Violet Evergarden captivates me by seeing the journey of learning. Violet learns what love means, whether platonic, familial, or romantic. She learns to be someone outside of her military background, making friends with people throughout the word via being a letter-writing doll. Her job is to scribe letters for other people, making sure that their emotions come through. Even though she started robotic and bland, the series has us watch Violet as she learns the inner emotions that people have through words. Slowly but surely, Violet learns what 'I love you' really means. This series is beautifully animated, with the soundtrack as immersing as the beautiful animation, pairing together to create a cinematic experience that I'll never forget. Even though nothing will ever be as heartwrenching and beautiful as that first watch, I believe that no matter how many times I rewatch it, Violet Evergarden will always teach the same lesson. To love is to be human, and to be human is to love.

If you've ever got the time (or in my opinion, even if you don't have the time), You need to watch Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Edgerunners is set in the world of Cyberpunk, a long-running series of Tabletop games, video games (you probably have heard of Cyberpunk 2077), and comic books. It's a beautifully animated series that delves into topics of corrupt corporations, greed, loss, and love all together in only a few episodes. The series is a tear-jerking masterpiece and has left many people in shock through its ending. It's beautiful, and I believe that anyone reading this needs to take the time to watch it. If you believe that Corporations aren't as bad as you've been led to believe, Edgerunners will prove you wrong. The series delves into the greediness that these corporations have had, and how the empires work to break the backs of others to make more for themselves. You'll see that theme explored very early on, with Trauma-Team and Arasaka having no qualms about leaving others behind just to make an extra buck or two. Our main character, David Martinez, is the direct victim of this corporate and capitalistic greed. His story enraptures the watcher's attention in only an episode, leaving you to wonder what will happen next. You'll explore love, loss, and hate all by watching this series. Every single character, from Lucy and Rebecca to Adam Smasher himself leaves you with some sense of strong emotion. You'll feel for these characters, you'll love them and hate them, and you'll be a part of every piece of the story. The emotions that Edgerunners will bring out feelings that you can only get through a story such as this. You have to clear your schedule if only to settle down and prepare for what you're about to watch. If you're still not convinced, fine, whatever. I've got one more thing that might convince the video-game enthusiasts. You can immerse yourself in these characters' stories in a video game set only one year after the events of the show. The characters are referenced in the game multiple times, with one even being a boss fight at the end of it. Keanu Reeves, playing Johnny Silverhand, is a good convincing factor of why the game is worth playing, and by extension, why edgerunners is absolutely worth the watch. It's short, and doesn't take too much time to get through. It's not a big commitment like One Piece or Naruto. With an easy-to-understand plotline, I believe edgerunners is absolutely worth the watch.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has always been my 'monster under the bed'. It's unseen by everyone else around me, but I know it's there. Those who've seen it can attest to its impact and effect, but those who haven't sit and deny its existence. They tell me I'm stupid for blaming the monster for my lack of sleep, for my nightmares, and for my fear. They tell me that there's no way that I can have a monster under my bed. They tell me to just 'get over it.' I spent years of my life undiagnosed. The disorder came from childhood trauma, multiple experiences that only the perpetrator and myself were witness to. I couldn't handle touch, and I'd lash out at other students who tried to hug me or tap me on the shoulder. During the holiday season of November to January, I'd refuse to do schoolwork. I became a troublesome kid for all of my teachers, and discipline soon became the only option. My parents didn't understand, no one saw what was going on. In middle school, I began considering suicide. I thought that if I could only get rid of these thoughts and memories, I'd be better off. People wouldn't have to deal with me anymore, they wouldn't have to even think of me. What had happened to me would be gone, lost to the wind. Throughout seventh grade to eleventh grade, I attempted eight times with varying degrees of consequences. I was never admitted to any mental health institution, but I was finally brought into therapy. After a course of what felt like hundreds of tests, I was diagnosed with PTSD. After the diagnosis, people started to see me differently. They'd tread like they were on top of a barely frosted-over lake around me, taking steps so quiet and careful I could've sworn that I'd been classified as a dangerous animal. I felt ashamed, it was like I was scaring and inconveniencing other people by just existing within their space. To this day, that shame still haunts me like a poltergeist. People would often ask me if I was okay when I was barely having an off day, and they'd try to be a white knight by telling others what they could and could not do around me. I hate when people speak for me, but they feel as if this disability comes with a lack of knowing what I want for myself. Other people were different, though. They'd insist that I was faking, obsessing over my disorder more than I did myself. My family members would tell me that only war veterans could have PTSD, and that my diagnosis wasn't valid. I was told that 'faking wouldn't get me anywhere.' These people prolonged the process of getting the treatment I needed, making me doubt the experiences that I was going through. I can't say my experiences are in the past. I still struggle with suicide, and of course, the PTSD hasn't gone away. My grades still aren't the best, and I still fail tests on those weeks I haven't been sleeping. All I hope for is that college will give me a better opportunity. All I hope for is that college will give me an escape from the life I have.

To me, Philosophy is far more meaningful than the question of 'why.' Philosophy means purpose, it's human existence in its entirety. To me, philosophy is teaching everyone that they have a purpose. People with disabilities are often seen as 'lesser than' or 'hopeless.' They aren't offered the same opportunities for the future, nor are they offered even a chance of reaching the same goals. I believe that by becoming a professor of philosophy, I'll be able to teach everyone that every person, no matter who they are, can have that bigger purpose. I'll teach everyone that there's a chance for hope no matter the circumstances. I'll make others who have disabilities feel needed, and I'll teach them how the universe has specifically created them for a purpose far bigger than they can ever comprehend. This ideology is what I hope to teach for the benefit of all.

"What do you think you're doing!? Give me the remote, now!" My sister, 9 years older than me grabbed the Wii Remote as we booted up Super Mario Galaxy. Bethany was always player one, and with her being sixteen at the time and incredibly moody, she was determined to keep up that streak. Player one was Mario, player two was just the co-star. I was seven, and I was insistent that this time, I'd be Mario. "You're not ready." She'd insist. "Maybe when you're older, but not now." Super Mario Galaxy was the biggest part of my early childhood. I'd sneak upstairs hours past my bedtime just to play the game with her, failing over and over again at the Bedroom Dome. I'd play for hours, every day after school being filled with the dreaded 'Ya-hoo-hoos!' of Mario falling once again through the holes in the floor. My sister, when she wasn't trying to beat me in the head with a Wii remote for trying to take player one again, was failing just as hard. Right before she moved out for college, she ended up selling the console. We never made it past that Dome. When Super Mario Galaxy was announced for the Nintendo Switch, you better believe I jumped at the opportunity. Booting up the game, I flew through the levels until I eventually reached the dreaded Bedroom Dome once again. I beat it in one day. One single day. Even though that should've made me mad, I couldn't help but laugh a little. I even noticed that I was crying. This time, I was player one. This time, I took care of myself and made it past. It was that little bit of spite I had that made me laugh a little bit. I was always ready to be player one, Bethany. And maybe I was better than you the whole time.

I dream of being a professor in a classroom full of students, well esteemed and known throughout my career. I visualize my PhD in Philosophy framed in a lecture hall, inspiring students to attain the higher level of education I have achieved. I'll be able to educate others about an under-appreciated subject, bringing light to a concept that's been forgotten in the wide expanse of time. I see my colleagues praising my work, and I see many people referring to me as an inspiration. Surrounded by a community, I'll be a part of something far bigger than myself. In my future career search, I'll be looking for a university that values community. I'll search for a university that values me, my work, and my subject. I'll search for a community of people who highly value knowledge and intelligence, and encourage others to achieve it as well. It might be a long search, but it's a search I'm willing to take if it means gratifying and perfecting my life and my goals. I'm willing to put in the work for what I want, no matter the cost. I believe that putting in the work will be worth it in the long run. In a teaching career, you must have empathy for students. You must value their lives and goals, encouraging them to reach for them. I'll work to make sure every student feels cared for, important, and intelligent. I'll work to make sure every student believes that they have hope for the future. They'll all feel as if I tried my hardest with them, and they'll remember me in their future endeavors. I hope to see my students succeed in their dreams and careers, no matter what they'll be. I'm excited to see what both of our futures look like, and how they'll be intertwined. Being a professor will be a hefty amount of work. I'll be in school for many years to get a doctorate, and I'll have to write many essays and works. I'll have to craft a dissertation and present it to the board. For now, though, I look towards the direct future. I look towards starting my first year of college as the beginning, then slowly working towards the bigger goal up ahead. I believe that by taking things one step at a time, I'll be able to reach my dreams. I believe that my dreams will one day become the reality I pray for them to be.

Without understanding the nature of the universe, we don't understand the nature of the self. I believe that every person is connected, by wires and chains spanning through time far larger than our minds can feasibly comprehend. Humans don't see how much we're connected, by time and by nature, by birth and by death, and by our existence in its simplest form. We take our perfect creation by forces beyond belief for granted, insisting that it was all chance. We as humanity insist that our existence is caused by over-glorified universal gambling, an idiotic ideology held by the pretentious few who believe that a simple gamble would allow their existence above the many others that could've been. This ideology is what causes such hatred, this ideology is what causes wars, this ideology causes human suffering in its entirety and I believe that its idea needs to come to an end. What is humanity without passion? Our passion comes in many forms, but our nature is what causes it. If we lack understanding of our nature, we lack understanding of passion. We live in a dull world plagued by monotonality and depression, barely classified as conscious beings. We lack understanding, we lack hope for the future, and it's clear that we lack the love and empathy that our forefathers in the times before civilization held. If in the past you saw a neighbor starving, you'd go to feed them. A half-full stomach for two neighbors used to be far better than one being full and the other being forced to starve. When did we lose that ideology? When did we lose that empathy? We lose it when we forget our nature. The answers come in two forms-- Parenthood and philosophy. The education of the younger generations is coming to a distinct and noticeable halt. Parents shove tablets in front of their toddlers in hopes that they'll leave them alone for an hour or two more. They homeschool children away from the public, barely letting them socialize with anyone other than themselves. These children are turning out selfish, uneducated, and unsocialized. Parents neglect to discipline their children, either believing they did nothing wrong or not wanting to go through the trouble of asserting specific behaviors. If we want to better understand our nature, we need to start by bringing our children up in a way that has them appreciate others. We must bring up our children to appreciate education, to appreciate what they have and to take it with gratefulness. Children mustn't hate school but instead, go towards it with an eagerness to learn. If the parents would only begin to parent once again, I believe that this would be attainable within only a few years. Philosophy has long since been the answer. It's been humanity's answer since the time of the ancient Greeks and Romans. However, these philosophers that were once respected have turned into nothing in the grand expanse of our history. I despise the fact that philosophy is seen as useless, hate the fact that we as a species lack the need to question. If we don't question, then why are we here? If we don't aim to expand by questioning our knowledge and existence, then are we even existing? If we want to better understand our nature, we start by questioning. We start by teaching people to question everything they're told, to wonder and perceive, and to educate themselves and others. That would be the simple solution, but to implement it would be quite a lot of work. We'd need to implement it in schools, in the homes, in everywhere a person can be. We must implement philosophy in as much as we once did, or else we start losing the purpose that's instilled inside of us. Without philosophy, we begin absorbing selfishness and narcissism instead of empathy and humanism. It'll always be important to understand our nature. The only prayer that I have is that people will work towards that understanding instead of working against it. I pray that we'll have empathy once more, and I pray that people will heed my call and warning.

When I'd already been beaten and kicked down by an onslaught of AP courses and College classes I wasn't ready for, being the new kid had to be the final kick in the ribs. It hit in a way I didn't expect, breaking down the final bits of hope I had left. At my old high school, I was in an advanced track where they aimed to push me through two years of college by my senior year of high school. I was supposed to get an associate degree, I was supposed to be praised for my intelligence. But when I was put in college chemistry when I had not yet taken a high school chemistry class, let alone a physical science, I realized I wasn't as cut out for an early degree as I thought. When AP statistics along with Pre-calculus came into play, my grades slipped a considerable amount. When one failed class turned into two, I realized that it was time for a change. I convinced my parents to start the process of taking me out of my old high school and moving me into my new one. I thought that being a 'new kid' was easy. I thought that I could slip through the cracks without being noticed, that I'd graduate without anyone having a second thought about me. Unfortunately, I was wrong. The teachers weren't as close to me as they were with other students, and that was made clear. This school had new rules, new expectations, new cliques and social circles that I couldn't even begin to inch my way into. I'd have people talk to me, then turn around and talk about me-- I was weird, annoying, and far too quiet for most people to want to deal with. I'd go home with nothing to say to my parents, lying down on my bed and searching for something to do, if anything. Every day was a new type of dread, and my sense of purpose disintegrated faster than I could've ever imagined. My goal became simple and absolute. I was to graduate and get out of this state as soon as possible, taking my only two friends and building a new life somewhere different. My goal is to move across the country, twenty-five hours away by car. I want to become more than the teachers at this school or the past school thought I could be, I feel like I need to be more than they perceived me to be. I plan to get a doctorate, working diligently and linearly to obtain my goals and take pride in them. I want to be more, I have to be more, and I'll do anything I can to grasp that goal. Being 'the new kid' made me more determined than I ever thought I'd be, it forced me to work hard if only to get where I wanted to go. Although a difficult, annoying, and painful experience, I believe it was for the better. I would've never had such a sense of purpose without it.