I wish I could forget all 151 pages, 107,220 words, and 553,686 characters, each moment etched into a blank sheet of paper in an endless stack of journals. Tears turned my words into smears of ink, but I kept writing. When the pages fill, I turn to my camera roll, stopping on meticulously edited pictures. Curating my life into perfect photographs with carefully worded captions, I can convince myself I’m okay. Click. Click. Click. Staring into the mirror, tears streaking down my face as I repeat the same words. Prettier. Skinnier. Better. With each flash of the camera, I turn and pose, finding ways to conceal the red marks and nonexistent fat. “I ate before I came,” I lie, my close-lipped smile never reaching my eyes, praying my Celsius silences my stomach until I get home. I sink onto the bathroom floor, phone in hand, but not a single friend to call who knows my story. “Mom, I don’t know what to do,” I admit through the door. “Shreya, you just need to find your something,” my mom whispers. Weeks later, I hide behind the lens, eye to the viewfinder, as students who could be models pose. With heads tilted and legs crossed, each shutter captures subjects sitting pretty and posed, in a way I could never be. Editing in Lightroom, chasing the perfect picture, something feels wrong. Everything looks… bland. Maybe I just wasn’t made for perfection? My first shoot for the yearbook’s sports section is a tennis match in the sweltering heat. I have no idea what’s going on, but I pick up the camera and start shooting. Late at night, culling through images, there he is, someone I’ve never seen before, frozen mid-throw, a tennis ball suspended mid-air, skin glistening with sweat. Excitedly, I edit, tweaking the white balance and exposure, eager to interview him the next day. “Wait, can I see that again?” My heart stops, terrified his next words will be ones of ridicule all over again. “That’s amazing. Where can I get a copy of that?” Air refills my lungs, and a toothy smile spreads across my face. That spring, a face once unseen appears in hundreds of copies taken home by students, sharing the story of a boy who borrowed his aunt’s racket and never put it down. Staring at the photo and the 80-word story, I don’t see perfection; I see a person. It’s beautiful. I may not wear a cheer uniform or gold medals, but with every story I collect over the following months, I realize I have a story too. That feeling, something I want everyone to experience. As I continue shooting, I don’t seek out people with perfect, straight teeth or a model-like physique. I see the glimmer in their eyes and the type of joy that isn’t always pretty, just real. After checking the coverage report and finding a sea of zeros next to names, I search the halls for those I’ve never seen before, those not in athletics, fine arts, or anything at all. Slowly, each page fills with words and images of people who were once only in the reference, mentioned by name, but never by story. For years, 151 pages, 107,220 words, and 553,686 characters told my story: one of calories, likes, and edits. They remind me that I was once that girl who opened the yearbook and didn’t see her face. Now, when the new freshman girl opens up to her page and smiles back at her own face, I know the 151 pages weren’t wasted; they were just the beginning.

I wish I could forget all 151 pages, 107,220 words, and 553,686 characters, each moment etched into a blank sheet of paper in an endless stack of journals. Tears turned my words into smears of ink, but I kept writing. When the pages fill, I turn to my camera roll, stopping on meticulously edited pictures. Curating my life into perfect photographs with carefully worded captions, I can convince myself I’m okay. Click. Click. Click. Staring into the mirror, tears streaking down my face as I repeat the same words. Prettier. Skinnier. Better. With each flash of the camera, I turn and pose, finding ways to conceal the red marks and nonexistent fat. “I ate before I came,” I lie, my close-lipped smile never reaching my eyes, praying my Celsius silences my stomach until I get home. I sink onto the bathroom floor, phone in hand, but not a single friend to call who knows my story. “Mom, I don’t know what to do,” I admit through the door. “Shreya, you just need to find your something,” my mom whispers. Weeks later, I hide behind the lens, eye to the viewfinder, as students who could be models pose. With heads tilted and legs crossed, each shutter captures subjects sitting pretty and posed, in a way I could never be. Editing in Lightroom, chasing the perfect picture, something feels wrong. Everything looks… bland. Maybe I just wasn’t made for perfection? My first shoot for the yearbook’s sports section is a tennis match in the sweltering heat. I have no idea what’s going on, but I pick up the camera and start shooting. Late at night, culling through images, there he is, someone I’ve never seen before, frozen mid-throw, a tennis ball suspended mid-air, skin glistening with sweat. Excitedly, I edit, tweaking the white balance and exposure, eager to interview him the next day. “Wait, can I see that again?” My heart stops, terrified his next words will be ones of ridicule all over again. “That’s amazing. Where can I get a copy of that?” Air refills my lungs, and a toothy smile spreads across my face. That spring, a face once unseen appears in hundreds of copies taken home by students, sharing the story of a boy who borrowed his aunt’s racket and never put it down. Staring at the photo and the 80-word story, I don’t see perfection; I see a person. It’s beautiful. I may not wear a cheer uniform or gold medals, but with every story I collect over the following months, I realize I have a story too. That feeling, something I want everyone to experience. As I continue shooting, I don’t seek out people with perfect, straight teeth or a model-like physique. I see the glimmer in their eyes and the type of joy that isn’t always pretty, just real. After checking the coverage report and finding a sea of zeros next to names, I search the halls for those I’ve never seen before, those not in athletics, fine arts, or anything at all. Slowly, each page fills with words and images of people who were once only in the reference, mentioned by name, but never by story. For years, 151 pages, 107,220 words, and 553,686 characters told my story: one of calories, likes, and edits. They remind me that I was once that girl who opened the yearbook and didn’t see her face. Now, when the new freshman girl opens up to her page and smiles back at her own face, I know the 151 pages weren’t wasted; they were just the beginning.

"Would you want to work here one da?– “Yes,” I respond to my taekwondo instructor’s question before he can even finish, hoping to hint that “one day” should be soon. No job in the world seemed easier. I was wrong. As a student, I ran to my taekwondo academy to escape reality. Front kicks and punches become tornado kicks and spin hook kicks by the day. The feeling of pushing myself to master something that never came naturally to me was my own quiet victory. As an employee, the hands on the clock stand still as I struggle to get more than two words across without another instructor stepping in to save me. Spiraling out of control swallows me whole, and I approach the mat with a deep breath and a wish for my shift to end faster. At the end of yet another long class, a girl approaches me and hands me something: a bracelet, pink and orange, carefully tied together. "Thank you…" My words trail off. I don’t know her name. Embarrassed, I finish the sentence “I love it.” Shame fills me, my face burning red. I had wondered why each sentence I spoke ended in someone else’s voice when I couldn’t name one out of the hundreds of children I teach. How would they ever listen to me when I didn't know the first thing about them? Mr. Petry, Ms. Vela, Mr. Jordan. All my favorite people. Why? Because they know my name, my birthday, and my favorite color, even though I barely speak to them anymore. I wanted to be like them as an instructor, but first, I need to be like them as a person. Hovering in a corner and only speaking when I need to isn’t getting me anywhere. I wanted to laugh with students about their days and talk to parents without wondering which student was theirs. I made myself a promise. I was going to be their mentor, their friend, and their biggest cheerleader when they needed one. Axel, age 4, never wants to be on the mat. Fits of tears outside the door are an issue that no one knows how to solve. What began as me saying, "I guess he's not coming to class today," transforms into sitting outside the door together, coloring until he is comfortable enough to go inside. Ananya, age 8, may just be my mini-me. Quiet and shy, she walks into class without a word and leaves the same way. “Anu-na!” my coworkers call, causing me to grimace. Every single time I will her to respond “That’s not my name!” but it never happens. Each time I hear Anu-na, Ananya, I repeat after. Suryansh, age 12, the hardest worker and always happy, walks in silently one day. He never speaks about his life, making me hesitate to ask, “Hey, are you ok?” “Can I talk to you about something after?” “Of course,” I respond, stunned to have earned his trust. After class, I hear the story of his breakup and how his friends don’t seem to care. Slowly but surely, I become the Ms. Vela, the Mr. Jordan, and the Mr. Petry in these kids' lives. The instructor, whom they asked for help from, tell about their lives and hug before they leave. I learned it's not about what you say or whom you're talking to; it's about how you make others feel. That bracelet still sits on my vanity, a reminder that Ananya, Axel, and Suryansh are the ones who brought me where I am today.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Growing up, I remember hearing my dad's pager go off each night. I'll never forget that sound. As a child, the blaring scared me; I didn't understand what it meant. I just remember hearing my dad talk to people in medical terms that always seemed to be code for death, pain, and suffering. My mom's stories weren’t any more lighthearted. The stories of people who could’ve been helped but were out of time. These stories aren't just about patients—they are about real people facing the same tragic ending every time. Hearing these stories has left me with a different perspective on life. I began to wonder whether the problem really lay in the illness or the healthcare system. So many people visit doctors, only to hear the same line: "I'm sorry, but there's not much we can do," leaving with a clock ticking down above their heads. Texas faces several challenges, including racial disparities, high costs of insurance, and expensive prescription drugs. According to US Census Data, "21.7% of Texas adults aged 19 to 64 went without health insurance in 2023… double the national rate of 11.0%." Economic barriers leave low-income individuals without healthcare options. Rural areas lack hospitals and require residents to travel long distances for adequate medical care. Without insurance, these individuals miss regular checkups, leading to delayed diagnoses and missed treatment windows. These gaps in the healthcare field are fatal, but what if you didn't need to be a doctor to understand and monitor your health? This is where LifeLine comes in. LifeLine is an all-in-one medical kit that simplifies healthcare for both the patient and the doctor. The goal is to eliminate missed diagnoses caused by a lack of access to healthcare and the absence of accurate information. Each kit consists of basic healthcare devices that are equipped to catch common conditions early. This kit would include a blood pressure monitor, pulse oximeter, smart scale, and glucose meter to monitor these conditions effectively. The paired app guides users in correctly using the devices, medication reminders, daily wellness tips, symptom tracking, and mental health check-ins. Users can connect to any wearable smart fitness monitor, and families can choose to track medication adherence. With the ability to store and view health data in an easy-to-use healthcare dashboard that can be shared with family members and general care practitioners, users are able to make sure they are in control of their health. To scale this idea, I plan to attend a pitch competition in hopes of gaining initial funding to partner with healthcare providers and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to distribute the kits. I intend to launch a pilot program in underserved rural communities, such as those in West Texas. The kits will appeal to NGOs for use in impoverished communities and individuals seeking proactive health monitoring. Using feedback, I will collaborate with larger organizations to expand distribution and train local healthcare workers who work in these communities. I aim to sell in bulk to NGOs and international aid organizations to distribute as a part of a nonprofit program. This initiative leads to improved health monitoring and enables early diagnosis of conditions that often go untreated in remote areas. As medicine evolves, I plan to expand LifeLine's capabilities to cater to a larger array of conditions, effectively ensuring accessible healthcare for everyone.

What if challenges weren't setbacks but a mirror reflecting the person you're meant to become? I always thought my taekwondo academy would be my happy place forever, but that's not how it turned out. The biggest challenge in my life came when my role at the academy shifted from being a student to an instructor, the first step out of my life as an adolescent. This challenge didn't just change my role within the academy—it redefined my outlook on life. It taught me to approach challenges with determination and perseverance, values that I strive to embody in every part of my life. Throughout my time as a student, my taekwondo academy was always the place I'd go to escape from reality. Learning new techniques and pushing myself farther was the highlight of every day. When I was first asked to work there, it seemed like nothing could've been more perfect. However, as an employee, I struggled to make meaningful connections with my students. This left me feeling anxious and questioning my abilities every time I was asked to lead a class. After several months of this, I was inclined to give up. But I didn't. One day a young girl gifted me a bracelet she had made. Knowing my students appreciated me was everything. At that moment, I realized why I was struggling; I was trying to be an authority figure for these kids without knowing them. Thinking back to my favorite teachers, I realized every one of them had taken the time to get to know me. In my struggle to make classes of over forty students listen, I hadn't gotten to know any of them individually. I had continued to expect results from work I wasn't putting in. Going forward, this meant connecting with the students and proving I was their mentor, friend, and cheerleader. Sometimes, it is not easy to self-reflect, but part of my job is realizing that if a student doesn't understand what I'm saying, I have to change something in the way I'm teaching. One young student never seemed to want to come to class. What began as my saying, "I guess he's not coming to class today," transformed into sitting outside together, coloring until he was comfortable enough to go to class with me. For one girl, correcting the mispronunciation of her name made her feel seen, whereas for another, simply listening when others didn't fostered a sense of trust. Even some of the teens, who rarely spoke during class, now crack jokes with me as they walk in. Slowly, I became the instructor all the kids came to talk to and hug as they left. Gaining the respect of my students rebuilt my confidence in my abilities. I had always considered myself to be an introvert and "not a people person," but I realized it’s about how you make others feel. Carrying this lesson with me, I’ve transformed my approach to life. Where I was once the quiet girl, I now thrive in social settings. Embracing a newfound comfort in crowds, I’ve grown, switching career interests to business and marketing, where building connections is key. This understanding gave me confidence to conduct interviews and become best friends with strangers within the hour. What began as a part-time job became a transformative learning experience I’ll carry for the rest of my life. Looking back, these experiences have shaped who I am as a person and the leader I desire to be.

Some people say the ideal path is to live in blissful oblivion, reside behind the veil of familiarity, and be quietly sheltered from the harsh realities. If this choice resonates with you, you may be seen as a people-pleaser, content with a peaceful but static existence. You are surviving at peace where every day is the same, but that's okay. But are you okay living with the curtains pulled shut, in a state of unawareness in a world where you never have to make the hard choices? If you said yes, the blue pill is the right answer. Some people say the right answer is to confront reality and face it head-on, regardless of the consequences and challenges. Often, accepting the truth isn't pretty, but to make a change, you must face it. If this choice resonates with you, you're a change-maker and a leader. You are living and thriving and sometimes suffering, but that's okay. But are you okay facing struggles and challenges, however hard they may be, to make a change? If you said yes, the red pill is the right answer. The predecessor to this question presented in The Matrix, "After this, there is no turning back," emphasizes the gravity of your choice. Ultimately, your choices are to take the blue pill and continue believing in the reality you've been shown or take the red pill and continue chasing after the change you aspire to make. This timeless question from the 1999 movie has sparked debate and controversy on a grand scale. I first watched this movie in 2020, and my dad warned me that this movie may alter my reality drastically. Not a single day following that movie was the same. Suddenly barriers placed by others were nothing but a simulated reality. My decision was clearer than ever. And I had chosen the red pill. My personal journey echoes this choice. Often, I find myself at a crossroads. Do I take the job and plunge into my career, or do I decline it and have another few carefree summers? Do I work as hard as possible for the rest of high school with hopes and dreams of making it somewhere, or do I take it easy and go to that party? Each decision felt like standing at the top of a ledge, looking down at the water below, contemplating my choices. Do I jump and live without regrets or return to the bottom where everything is safe? The world suddenly became so much clearer as the air rushed around me, and the impact of the water alerted every one of my senses.

Every challenge is not a setback but an opportunity for personal growth and a chance to become a stronger version of yourself. The most significant challenge in my life emerged from an unexpected place, but it became a catalyst for my personal growth and resilience. It was not an easy journey, but I persevered, and that perseverance was key to my success. As a student, my Taekwondo academy was always my happy place. Training with friends and learning new techniques was always the highlight of my day. Being asked to work there as my first job seemed like the perfect fit for me. However, to my surprise, as an employee, I dreaded going there. Minutes started feeling like hours at work; none of the students listened to me and frequently zoned off when I spoke. They would talk among themselves and constantly act like I wasn’t their instructor. When I was teaching, kids and parents often treated me as if I were still one of the students. After several months of tolerating this, I was tired and inclined to give up. But I didn't. I transformed my perspective and saw this as an opportunity to grow and learn. However, not letting this get to me, I recognized that there was a clear-cut reason I earned no respect; I had never built the relationships necessary or had the communication to portray myself as a staff member. I had continued to fade into the background and expect something to happen. This meant connecting with the students and proving to them that I was invested in helping them individually. Sometimes, it is not easy to recognize that not every student will understand what I am trying to convey on the first try. Part of my job is inventing new ways to aid them in comprehending skills. This was especially relevant to one young student who never paid attention in class. He did not listen to me or any other instructors. He constantly refused to do what he was told and threw temper tantrums. Often, the instructors would yell at him or resort to ignoring his behavior. None of these methods seemed to work. But I didn't give up. I thought of a unique idea. As this kid strolled in, I told him, "Today will be a great day." He asked me, "Why?" with the biggest scowl. I told him, "Because you're here, and today is going to be amazing because you are going to be awesome." That day was the first of many great classes for him, resulting in passed testings and medals at tournaments. This experience taught me the power of unique approaches to teaching and problem-solving. Another great example was a young girl who never seemed to connect with any of the instructors. I realized that they were constantly mispronouncing her name. I made it my mission to correct this mistake, thereby becoming one of her favorite instructors. Another child who never seemed to speak now always comes to tell me about their day and what they’ve been up to. Slowly, I became the instructor all the kids came to talk to, ask for help, and hug before they left. As I gained trust from my students, I accumulated respect from their parents. Connecting with people has always come naturally to me. I enjoy getting to know and understand more about new people every day. I use these skills to assist others. One thing facing a challenge has taught me: you have the power to help an infinite number of people.

If I could have everyone read one book, it would be The List by Siobhan Vivian. Others may list more popular choices, such as fantasy books like Shatter Me and Scythe or murder mysteries like One of Us is Lying. While these books are also some of my favorites, certain books hold a special place in my heart. I prefer books that can make me see a new side of the world. Stories such as The List by Siobhan Vivian had more impact on me than any others. I first read The List at the start of middle school. While a fictionalized story, The List enunciated quite real events occurring in many places around me. Vivian tells the story of a school where a list is released yearly. This list ranks the prettiest and the ugliest girls that year. Each year, a new list is released, and while no one knows who releases it, everyone knows how it impacts the girls it targets. Creating riffs between sisters, and friends and creating cliches of girls who only bond over being pretty. While I never truly understood the book when I first read it, I understand it now. Where there aren’t lists being posted at every school, there are social hierarchies; there is the understanding of who the pretty girls and ugly girls are. This social hierarchy, this understanding forced upon us dictating which girl can stand on a stage and mess up, but it’s ok because she’s pretty versus the girl that gets laughed off the stage, harms young girls. While people say the real world can be cruel, sometimes I think high school can be crueler. This is the reason I’m so grateful for books like these because while I’d never say these things out loud seeing them on paper makes me feel seen.

My BookTok must-haves are the books that you feel something deeply. Others may list more popular choices, such as fantasy books like Shatter Me and Scythe or murder mysteries like One of Us is Lying. While these books are also some of my favorites, certain books hold a special place in my heart. I prefer books that can make me see a new side of the world. The books that have impacted the BookTok community most are How to Make Friends with the Dark by Kathleen Glasgow and The List by Siobhan Vivian. One of Kathleen Glasgow’s virtues I admire most is her ability to write about topics many other authors won’t, such as substance abuse and mental illness. How to Make Friends with the Dark, one of her most popular books and the one I read first, still lives in my head years after I read it. Glasgow insightfully and emotionally writes the story of a young girl whose life is surrounded by substance abuse, and misfortune is quickly overturned. She is forced to find a new path or be overcome by darkness. The book begins with a note: “ I can’t feel my body, I can’t feel my heart, I’m lifting out of myself watching as I separate into the girl before and the girl after.” This note drew me in, and I never let go as it helped me become the girl before and the girl after. Reading this book right as the pandemic ended, I felt I had become withdrawn and lost the social skills I once had. Embracing Tiger’s story helped me become the girl after and open my eyes to the light in the darkness. Stories such as the list by Siobhan Vivian had more impact on me than any others. I first read the list at the start of middle school. The list, while a fictionalized story, enunciated quite real events occurring in many places around me. Vivian tells the story of a school where a list is released yearly. This list ranks the prettiest and the ugliest girls that year. Each year, a new list is released, and while no one knows who releases it, everyone knows how it impacts the girls it targets. Creating riffs between sisters, and friends and creating cliches of girls who only bond over being pretty. While I never truly understood the book when I first read it, I understand it now. Where there aren’t lists being posted at every school, there are social hierarchies; there is the understanding of who the pretty girls and ugly girls are. This social hierarchy, this understanding forced upon us dictating which girl can stand on a stage and mess up, but it’s ok because she’s pretty versus the girl that gets laughed off the stage, harms young girls. While people say the real world can be cruel, sometimes I think high school can be crueler. This is the reason I’m so grateful for books like these because while I’d never say these things out loud seeing them on paper makes me feel seen.

In all honesty, I went into The Summer I Turned Pretty fully expecting to despise it. Now, while I am not into romance shows or movies, I am into romance novels. I am such a Shatter Me by Taherah Mafi, It Ends with Us by Colleen Hoover, and Fault in Our Stars by John Green kind of girl. Knowing The Summer, I Turned Pretty, was a book before it was a show made me expect to hate it since that tends to happen when books get turned into shows. The plot gets ruined, the story gets twisted, and the overall experience isn't the same. This, however, was not the case for The Summer I Turned Pretty. Now, for the whole first of season, I was strictly on team Conrad, just like many people I know. What is there not to like about him? He's 100% the bad boy stereotype that makes girls fall for him left and right. He's the cuter out of the brothers, and he and Belly seemed so perfect for each other. He has always been her biggest supporter, from the volleyball game to teaching her how to make the bed. They have the electricity of any it couple. The countless times he's looked at her like she's his whole world throughout the seasons have my heart melting. All their sweet moments on the beach and all of their almost kisses are everything from a fairytale romance, but then I quickly realized that even through all that, he's not the right one for her. When the second season came out, it didn't take me long to realize that. Even though Conrad may have tried his best frequently, his best still ended up hurting Belly. As much as she wanted him, he was never good for her. As much as Belly hurt him, Jeremiah has always been there and has never wronged her. All their moments have the calm instead of the storm that Belly and Conrad are. Jeremiah is always there to be her good luck, her rock, and her support system. He's there to help her, whether making pomegranate margaritas or stepping in to save her in deb rehearsals. They had many passionate kisses throughout the seasons, and even through all their fights, they were there to talk to one another afterward. After all, Taylor approves of their relationship, and what is your relationship if your best friend doesn't approve?

One characteristic I value most about myself is that I am undoubtedly me. I know that is a weird statement and probably doesn't make any sense; however, it embodies me entirely. Like most high school and middle school students, for years, I played a part and acted the way others wanted me to. I would do what you wanted me to and became a doll of sorts. Often times it was hard, and I entirely fell off the edge, having complete breakdowns over the fact that I felt so lost in life. I would get these pit-of-your-stomach feelings like I had no life purpose. It was a horrible feeling. It made no sense to me at that time. It does now, however. That year was most definitely the worst year of my life and when I indeed found myself. During quarantine, I stayed in my room for 24 hours at a time. I cut off all my friends. I stopped doing everything I loved. I stopped eating and sleeping correctly. I would sit in my room and cry most days. At the same time, I would scroll through social media and realize all my friends were living their lives. I wanted so badly to be them. That's when I realized what my issue was. I had spent my whole life wanting to be someone else, and I never really ended up finding myself. Now I am confident in who I am. If I am terrible at something, so what? I will admit it because no one is perfect. If I did something wrong, I am not going to hide it; I will admit it and apologize. If I want to go on stage and give a speech, I will. I am not going to keep worrying about what if he thinks my voice sounds weird or what if I mess up because none of those things matter to me anymore. I think that this will most definitely help in life because truly being themselves is a skill that even some adults do not have. It's a trait I will always carry with me. I understand the value of being yourself and not acting to please others. For example, before, I was very hesitant to voice my opinions on any topic, whether it be something small like my favorite type of chips or something big like my opinions on global warming. Now I voice my views often and try to act on my beliefs instead of supporting others' ideas. I actively volunteer for causes I believe in and donate money I've raised to a charity I support. These are all ways I now live for myself.

Feminism is the fight for my voice and 3.9 billion others alike to be heard and to have a purpose. There are many reasons why this movement is still relevant today; however, the best way to explain this is that women do not yet have complete autonomy. Ever since I was young, I have known about issues such as the gender pay gap, and I have always had something to say about it. I remember my teachers thought I was so weird when I was 11. We had to write a persuasive essay, and while the other kids were arguing why vanilla ice cream is better than chocolate ice cream, I was arguing why it was unfair for women in many states to make less than 80 cents to every dollar a man makes. I have seen pictures all my life of women at protests holding up signs saying no means no and my body my rights, and I just had to wonder why that was still an issue. I saw a post once that has always stuck in my mind, and it said, "a man in a room full of women is ecstatic, but a woman in a room full of men is terrified." Without divulging more into the many issues of sexism, it shows me that men have had power for thousands of years while women have lived in silence. Now more recently, women have started protesting for their rights more and more. One woman, in particular, I have always looked up to, and admired, is Maria Montessori. Going to a Montessori school for all my elementary and middle school years, she is someone I have heard a lot about. She was a woman who went past what everyone told her was acceptable and did as she pleased and as she saw right. Although it was considered improper, she was the only woman in her medical school. She became one of the first female doctors in Italy and started an educational form now used worldwide. She is someone I have always looked up to through all of the different aspects of my life. She was a feminist, but more than that, she was a woman who could do anything, and I hope to be a person like that in the future. One way I currently contribute to feminism in my community is by exemplifying the traits in myself. I say what I believe is right and do not conform to norms or what is found acceptable. One thing I have heard all of my life and truly hate to hear is to act like a lady. This is one of the most outdated phrases in society because what is acting like a lady?

One characteristic I value most about myself is that I am undoubtedly me. I know that is a weird statement and probably doesn't make any sense; however, it embodies me entirely. Like most high school and middle school students, for years, I played a part and acted the way others wanted me to. I would do what you wanted me to and became a doll of sorts. Often times it was hard, and I entirely fell off the edge, having complete breakdowns over the fact that I felt so lost in life. I would get these pit-of-your-stomach feelings like I had no life purpose. It was a horrible feeling. It made no sense to me at that time. It does now, however. That year was most definitely the worst year of my life and when i indeed found myself. During quarantine, I stayed in my rooms for 24 hours at a time. I cut off all my friends. I stopped doing everything I loved. I stopped eating and sleeping correctly. I would sit in my room and cry most days. At the same time, I would scroll through social media and realize all my friends were living their lives. I wanted so badly to be them. That's when I realized what my issue was. I had spent my whole life wanting to be someone else, and I never really ended up finding myself. Now I am confident in who I am. If I am terrible at something, so what? I will admit it because no one is perfect. If I did something wrong, I am not going to hide it; I will admit it and apologize. If I want to go on stage and give a speech, I will. I am not going to keep worrying about what if he thinks my voice sounds weird or what if I mess up because none of those things matter to me anymore. I think that this will most definitely help in life because truly being themselves is a skill that even some adults do not have. It's a trait I will always carry with me. I understand the value of being yourself and not acting to please others. For example, before, I was very hesitant to voice my opinions on any topic, whether it be something small like my favorite type of chips or something big like my opinions on global warming. Now I voice my views often and try to act on my beliefs instead of supporting others' ideas. I actively volunteer for causes I believe in and donate money I've raised to a charity I support. These are all ways I now live for myself.

There is a lot of change I want to see in this world. While people say to be optimistic and not be a pessimist, I consider myself a realist. The earth is slowly dying due to global warming and pollution. Species are going extinct. There is ongoing racism, sexism, and homophobia. There are so many people homeless and without food. There is gun violence and hate crimes galore. That's just the tip of the iceberg. I want every one of these issues to go away, and I believe it's possible. If, for once, humankind would stop fighting their reckless wars and realize for once the goal for us all is the same, there would be world peace. We held a peace day event each year at my middle/elementary school. We were taught that Montessori schools across the world were all singing one song, light a candle for peace, at the same time. That was always something that resonated with me. Even if the world wasn't at peace, there are some communities that are and that show that we can all live in peace if we genuinely try to. I try to help as much as I can in my own community. Last year in middle school, I was student council president and worked on many different projects. I collected food during thanksgiving for the Frisco food pantry. I lead multiple street clean-ups of Lebanon road. I helped raise almost $1,000 for Scottish rite hospital and collected supplies for care packages for our troops. I also set up a recycling program for our school. Since 2020, I've been on the leadership team at my martial arts academy, which means I go in once a week with the sole purpose of helping out in a class. Now in high school, I joined the student council as a general member and have been helping as often as possible! So far, since I started high school, I've already done ten volunteer hours! I believe that giving back to your community is one of the most important things you can do. Working to make the world a better place is something we can all contribute to and be proud to be a part of.

One way I have grown in the last year is that I believe I've finally become myself. To most, that may seem like a strange statement. How could I have ever not been me? For all of my elementary and middle school years that I remember, I was always significantly influenced by the people around me. I never really made my own decisions but instead always asked others for theirs. I always did it, and no one ever tried to stop me. I was a people pleaser in the most extreme sense. I consistently had this feeling of being lost. Suddenly, it would hit me that I had no life purpose, and I could not tell you who I was as a person. It was the worst feeling I was convinced would follow me for my entire life. After that, I was at home in quarantine for part of the 6th and all of the 7th grade. I felt so alone and utterly hopeless that this would be my life forever. I would stay in my bedroom with the lights off for over 24 hours at a time. Only coming out when everyone else left to go to their rooms. I realized the year after, when I finally went back into society, that I had not lost myself; in fact, I had finally found myself. Suddenly, I was making friends with people I never thought I would, and I realized they were just like me. These people were people who, before, I had despised. Just imagining not knowing and not spending the time I did with is heartbreaking. So many things about me overall have changed. I finally understand I don't have to fit a stereotypical pretty popular girl for people to like me; as long as I am a nice, genuine person, the people that want to be friends with me will. I have also learned that some people are not meant to be friends. All my life, I have always tried my best to stay friends with someone, even if it was turning into a toxic friendship and I was coming home crying after talking to them. I have understood that letting go of people who hurt me is not wrong. Some traits about me that have stayed the same are that I am still a confident person who is not afraid to say what she means. Before quarantine, these were still traits I had; however, over time, they have grown stronger, and I have achieved things I never thought I could.

Here’s to a girl at age five smiled and laughed A twinkle in her brown eyes Here’s to a girl who has said goodbye Waving away people Who have left her life Here’s to a girl who learned how to fight Because she is a girl And it’s in her right Here’s to a girl who wanted to be perfect Because then no one could hurt her And then she’d be worth it Here’s to a girl that knows how to live To live a little on edge But nothing too far of a stretch Here’s to a girl that cried Tears streaming down her face as slowly She died inside Here’s to a girl who was the talk of the class Who was the one who was laughed at Who you seemed to always be mad at Here’s to a girl who made a promise To always be honest Who said she would never break a promise Here’s to the girl who broke that promise Who pretends to be a goddess Who finally dares to break that promise Here’s to the girl that’s broken Shattered from her heart Cause she is a mirror that was torn apart Here’s to the girl that was sad That was mad That couldn’t take anything any more bad Here’s to the girl who tried to hide Years and years of her life Were starting to look like a waste of time Here’s to the girl who wanted to give up Because finally she had struck out of luck Here’s to the girl who almost made it Who was almost happy Who was ready to take a step away from this story Here’s to the girl that sits and cries Because she feels That every day slowly she dies Here’s to the girl that loves too hard Under her cold exterior People run too deep in her heart Here’s to the girl that can’t stand When people leave and blame and she’s can only stand in shame Here’s to the girl that’s always questioned Never given the answers Never forgiven Here’s to the girl that sees the light At the end of the tunnel It’s so very bright

My best back-to-school tip is just to be yourself! Even though that can be one of the hardest things in high school is harder to keep up a fake persona. I would know because I have done that for a long time. For years throughout the end of elementary school and middle school, i would gauge my environment and act according to the people around me. It was so hard to have to keep that up after a while. In high school, I have taken the opportunity to start afresh and not do that. Not to fit a stereotype or an aesthetic. I no longer feel the overwhelming urge to be "that girl." Instagram - @s_talwar07