If I were handed a $1,000 dollar bill, I would stare at it, check its authenticity, then probably panic and stuff it in my bra to keep from being mugged. I would then be frustrated that I am under 18 for the millionth time, because every investing app I know of requires the person using it to be over 18. Then, the money would go to my grandma. Unfortunately, not for any noble grandma-caring purposes, but for her to put in her savings account marked “Sierra’s college.” This is, quite frankly, to maximize my FAFSA money. My dad is unemployed, and my mom is dead. I need a lot of help saving for college, and I am willing to fool the government program now so that I don’t have to survive on a single jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread a couple of years in the future. My cause isn’t always righteous, but it’s in my best interest so that I can eventually survive school and graduate with my doctorate. I can’t help others if I am forced to drop out of college because I can’t afford tuition.

My favorite book I've ever read is one I think about every single day of my life. Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, which I never would have read if I hadn't taken a book recommendation from my English teacher. Mr. Levingston had this knack for telling exactly when I was upset and prescribing the perfect book. Slaughterhouse Five is a cure consisting of a group of aliens called the Tralfamadorians. (Because they live on the planet of Tralfamadore, naturally.) The Tralfamadorians have a different sense of time than humans do. They believe that a person or Tralfamadorian is never in just one moment, but exists in every moment they have every been in or will be in. This was an absolutely mind blowing concept to my 16-year-old self. I had done things I wasn't proud of, and I had seen things I would never forget. With this idea, I was always in those moments, always living through that pain and shame and fear. But more importantly, I was in the other moments too. I was always in the moment when I was curled up in my warm bed cuddling with my cat. I was always in the moment when I got to state for public speaking. It was always my birthday, always in the thrilling plunge of a rollercoaster, and always experiencing my first kiss. These thoughts have continued to get me through hard times, knowing that no matter what, I was in a good moment somewhere. That one book and its idea have gotten me to this day, and that's why it is my favorite book.

I am willing to bet this entire scholarship that no one has ever looked at the path of medicine and said, “Hey, this looks easy!” Whenever I find myself wanting to tear my eyeballs out if I have to look at one more Lewis structure, or toss my entire Anatomy textbook into the nearest lake, I look at a booming on my bookshelf. Anatomy: A Love Story by Dana Schwartz. Aside from being a touching romance novel, the female main character aspires to be a physician at a time when it was just not allowed. Not only does she has to dress up as her older brother to attend classes and dissections, she has to dig her own cadavers out of the ground. I will never have to lie about who I am to get into a lab, or find my own research specimens. Medical students these days really do have it easy. Except for when we don’t. As I climbed the levels of difficulty in my science courses and my friends steadily dropped out for less mind-numbing ones, I found myself facing a thought process I would face again and again. Do I stop and take an easier route, or do I really want this life of endless study, with peoples’ lives in my hands? As ridiculous as it sounds, that is what I want. To work in an emergency room, facing people at their worst day after day as I give blood, sweat, and tears for my patients. A famous quote of mine is, “If there was no serenity prayer, it would be over for all of you.” Because I channel that phrase, to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I cannot change when a person is set to die. But I can do my best for the people who trust me with their health and their comfort. Medicine is messy, disgusting, and exhausting. A nurse after a 12-hour shift is a force to be reckoned with. But I find myself drawn to it in the nuances of how the heart beats, lungs expand, and electricity stripes the human body. The beauty cannot be separated from the pain, but I look forward to and embrace the difficulties for the joy I can give a family by delivering a loved one home.

Finances have always made me panic. My first therapist listed “family finances” as a trigger of my depression, and I was too scared to tell my family just how worried I was. I knew I wasn’t going to go hungry, but there was always that fear in the back of my mind of asking for money or hearing my family argue over rent or who owed who how much. I learned to squirrel away money, first in a wooden jewelry box that contained my tens and fives rolled away from the world. When I got my first job, I shoved as much as I could into my savings account and prayed that it would someday be enough to get me through a catastrophe. Even now, I keep myself up at night worrying about affording textbooks or basic living supplies when I move four states away for college. My financial education was a mixture of senior citizens with good intentions, racing through online classes to earn credits, and the Internet. My grandma taught me how to write a check, and the miracle of coupons. She was the woman in math problems buying a dozen watermelons because they were on sale. I technically took two financial literacy classes the summer after my sophomore year, but I retained nothing past a vague memory of making fake budgets. The Internet has been extremely helpful in my financial literacy experience, from tips of splitting your paycheck between checking and saving, to lists of hopefully legal ways of getting free textbook PDFs. My current life goal is to not drop out of pharmacy school. This is adapted from my first goal of finding life-saving cures while still graduating as valedictorian of my class. Expectations change as reality sets in. I’m almost certainly not going to graduate school a millionaire, barring a meet-cute with a helpfully rich man of my dreams. I’ll sneak food out of the dining halls, collect my spare change, and maybe do some investing. I’ll still make dumb purchases in the middle of the night, but I’ll make the most of the money I’m earning, while still being happy.

We are not always born with our community. Some people are, with villages to raise them and welcome them home. But for me, I built my community out of my friends, teachers, and people who supported me. I believe that I have helped to better my community by bettering myself, to lead by example. I am not perfect, but I believe that grace sticks to our imperfections. I ask for forgiveness for my mistakes only because I am able to offer it to others. My community was raised, one person at a time, one friendship at a time, one ability to trust at a time. I try to only ask for what I can give myself. This does not always happen, but I cannot be given grace if I have no imperfections. I was told I am the glue that keeps my friends together. I hope that I can also be their mirror, reflecting their best qualities and occasionally calling them out on their mistakes. I don't pretend to be a savior or a hero. I will probably never be on the cover of Time magazine for the most influential people in our country. But I think that by focusing on my friends, my acquaintances, my community, I can make small impacts that will ripple out into the larger world. If you want to change the world, change yourself and change your sphere. I am serving my community by doing the best that I can, one day at a time. My dream of my future is unsurprisingly, to serve. I am similar to my peers in that I am addicted to something, but different in the fact that my addiction is to self-sacrifice and service. I plan to work in the medical field, as a nurse, or RND, or EMT, or all of the above. My wildest hope is to be able to save lives. It's harder than it sounds, and I have already failed twice. My mother to a disease I was too young to cure, and a friend to a depression so deep I couldn't even brush the surface in our brief interactions. I hold them in my heart, and don't drown in them, but rather use them as my starting block to help others. If I can save just one person, my life will not have been in vain. My wildest dream, on a smaller scale, is to have a home that is a safe haven. A cake fresh out of the oven, and plenty of mugs for tea. A home that feels safe not because of any actual protection, but because I will be there to hold someone while they cry, or celebrate, or scream. I would like two cats, who love to be petted, and are always there to comfort. I would like enough money to give back to those who have helped me, and to help anyone who comes to me in need. I'm not hoping for much, just the rest of my life.

“So, how did your parents die?” This was a genuine question asked to me in the halls of my freshman year of high school. My answer, repeated so many times it seemed like the lines in my own personal depressing play, was the same. “My mom died when I was five, and my dad’s just not around much.” Sometimes, losing my mom felt like losing both of my parents at once. My parents both have and had bipolar disorder, which they passed onto their daughter. Everyone says how much happier my dad was before my mom died, but I don’t remember a time that he wasn’t seconds away from screaming and prone to fits of toddler-level temper tantrums. Growing up with a dead parent, everyone makes sure to tell you what a great person they were. I idolize my mom, with the few possessions left from her twenty-eight years of life being my most prized. A blanket, a college hoodie, a necklace. These became items to shape the image of this woman who apparently loved me more than anyone else ever will. She died the weekend before Mother’s Day, and as every year promises that this stretch of time will heal my wounds, it doesn’t. Every May eighth, I am as just cranky and miserable as the last. I don’t know if there are any upsides to all of this, other than the fact that I won’t have to suffer her death later in life, with her in pain. Instead, I will just grieve every day of my adult life. Growing up in a single-parent household isn’t revolutionary to me, it’s been everything I’ve ever know. I don’t know if it is the result of a single parent household or the result of living with a single parent with severe mental illness, but as a rule, I do not rely on others. I seldom cry, which I was once asked if this was because I had cried myself out when my mom died. Overall, I don’t enjoy it. My loss has defined me, but I do not know what my definition would have been without it. Certainly not more resilient than most people my age, or as able to swallow disappointment with barely a reaction. I do not know which version of myself will suit my future life, but I suppose this one will have to do.

I deserve this scholarship because I am an extremely reward-motivated individual. There is a Chick-Fil-A on my school's campus, and the money offered by this scholarship would be enough for me to buy 547 medium lemonades. Earning a lemonade every time I got an A on an exam or paper would motivate me to study more than any intrinsic motivation that every medical student needs to survive. My main career goal is to keep my dear family alive. They are all very clumsy and accident prone people, and having a doctor or pharmacist in the family might reduce their chances of dying prematurely. I have already worked towards this goal by reminding my grandma of the medications she is allergic to while in the ER at 11pm on a school night. I have attended many events that required overnight stays through the years. I also have a gorgeous orange cat named Sunny. He is against my leaving him alone, and will always lay in my packed suitcase. It is an incredible obstacle to lift him out of my suitcase and resist his pitiful cries when I step out of the door, but I have formed the willpower to do so.

"What is a hobby that is for yourself, not just to serve others?" My therapist asked me this at our very first session, when I was explaining my very empathetic nature to always put others before myself. My main hobbies are baking for others, crocheting items to give to others, and studying medicine to be able to serve others. There's an obvious pattern here that usually leads me along paths of burnout and exhaustion. But I do have one secret thing that I do for myself- reading. I prefer audiobooks to physical books, because while listening I can crochet, bake, vacuum, wash dishes, etc. I get twitchy when I sit down and do "nothing" such as just laying in bed and reading. "What about when you're sick?" Katie, my therapist, asked me. I don't really rest when I'm sick either, just transitioning my tasks to bed- when I had mono, I did my homework propped on pillows. But reading is the one thing I do for my own pleasure. I have just finished my school's "100 Books to Read Before Graduation" list, and enjoyed about 95 of them. I love disappearing into these world where everything will turn out alright, and I don't have to make decisions. Reading 100 books in the span of two years has shown me the similarity between almost all books. When giving my final thoughts to my English teacher, I told him that "all authors are calling out to their readers, this is how I feel, do you feel it too?" Reading could eventually turn into a task that is stripped of its enjoyment and used as a service. I've been told I have a beautiful reading voice, and that I should narrate audiobooks, or volunteer to read to children or the elderly. I would love to do all these things. But for now, reading is still my single pleasure that is not linked to giving up part of myself. This is why it is my favorite hobby, and the one I don't share with most people.

My experiences in volunteering and participating in community service have shown me that humanity is truly kind. Kindness has fueled my choices in school, extracurriculars, and even my career. Many philosophers -among them Xunzi and Hobbes- insist that humanity is inherently evil, corrupt, and will self-destruct if left without some kind of control. This has been exemplified in tragedies such as the Irish Potato Famine, where the laissez-faire approach of the English government allowed the Irish people to starve beside full fields of English cash crops. I am not saying that humanity is perfect. But I have found through volunteering that people really do want to help other people. Soup kitchens are full of the hungry, but are also full of volunteers happy to feed them. Local roads are adopted and kept clean, and there are no shortage of disaster relief programs ready to fill in where weather and anger rip safety away. To return to the Irish Potato Famine, dozens of churches rallied soup pantries, and sympathetic Quakers and Native Americans raced ships laden with food across the Atlantic to save the people that had helped them in the past. In my own personal experiences, I have seen an entire community flock to care for a single mother who lost her only daughter. My church sings Christmas carols to our local shut-ins every December. My family frequents a restaurant in Osgood, Ohio where all the workers are volunteers and any profit goes to a different family every month that is going through a difficult time. Our school’s Music Boosters football concession stand is always full of parents, and even students, who want to help raise money for their beloved organization. I have spent many a third quarter helping to take orders myself, and I never leave feeling like I have wasted my time. In the FFA, we do everything we can to thank the people that provide food for our school, community, and the rest of the world. I have even raised twenty turkeys to donate to our local food bank, to help that many more people be able to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal. When my grandpa went through a back surgery the same day my grandma broke her foot, leaving me to care for both of them, families flocked to us with meals and offers to drive to doctor's appointments. My community is no stranger to service, and I am always grateful for the opportunity to help so many people.

It makes me happy to make others happy. It sounds cliché, but it's true. My love language is service, and I am never more excited than when I am helping others. I donate blood every eight weeks, and recently spent a whole day cheering up my best friend after a breakup. I love giving gifts more than receiving them, and am known to spend all my money paying for my friends' meals. I grew up with my grandparents, and in the last three years have had to learn how to care for them, medically and emotionally. My constant giving of myself to others might sometimes be a negative thing, but it gives me life. I am constantly reminded to focus on my own well-being, but I am energized by helping others. My trauma became one of my favorite things about myself, and I wouldn't change it for the world. I will probably never stop trying to help others, and it can either be the making or ruin of me.

Someone I greatly admire from history is Catherine Parr, more commonly known as the sixth wife of Henry VIII. Aside from being the only of Henry's wives to avoid beingn divorced or beheaded, she is an extraordinary woman in her own right. Married twice before becoming queen, Catherine knew how to placate a delicate man's pride. She was known to make a suggestion of hers sound like it had been Henry's idea all along. This is how she convinced the king to reinstate his two formerly illegitimate daughters and future queens, Mary and Elizabeth. She was the first queen to publish a book under her own name- Prayers or Meditations. She had also published her first book, Psalms or Prayers, anonymously, and went on to publish a third- The Lamentations of a Sinner. Psalms or Prayers was a surprisingly powerful piece of wartime propaganda, published just as preparations for war against France and Scotland were being finalised. It was believed that if the entirety of England could back their army with their prayers, it would tip the war in their favor. Once Henry did go off to war, Catherine acted as regent for two months. Finally, one year and eight months after Henry's death, Catherine died in complications of childbirth. Her daughter, conceived with her fourth and final husband, followed only two years later. Catherine's burial was the first Protestant funeral held in English. Overall, she was an independent woman who learned to deal with the fickle attitudes of her husbands. She was an accomplished author who influenced many readers of England at the time. I admire Catherine for her ability to take advantage of the worst situation, a skill I work on to this day.

My favorite artist and scientist is myself. I am in no way saying I am the best, simply that I love myself the most. I know myself more intimately than any other, and can appreciate my struggles and achievements with love.

I definitely struggle with practicing self-care. I have trouble saying no, and spend a lot of nights doing piles of homework or preparing for the next upcoming FFA contest. But after two cases of mono, and a struggle with depression, I've learned that self-care and rest is not just a luxury- it's a necessity. I love reading more than almost anything, so on nights that I have some time before needing to sleep, I'll open a good book and give my eyes a break from screens. My cat loves this, because then he can climb onto my stomach and try to knock the book out of my hands so I will pet him. It's so nice to simply take in a story, after hours of putting out content and ideas. These few minutes of slowing down and doing something I enjoy after a long day calms me down and helps me to collect myself before sleep. This is how I keep myself sane, focusing on these calm moments in the midst of a whirlwind of life.

I believe that my best skill is my public speaking and command of language. My grandma says that I started talking early, at about 8 months, and haven't stopped since. My freshman year of high school, my FFA advisor said, "You're going to do prepared public speaking this year." I just agreed, and started researching speech topics. A thrilling three months later, I stood in front of judges at the state contest. My sophomore year, I took sixth place at state, and am still working to be the first person in my chapter to advance to nationals. Just yesterday, I harnessed these skills at our county NHS induction. I gave a speech and was elected as vice-president. I had many people come up to me and tell me how polished and professional I sounded. I thanked them all, and told them I was a competition public speaker. I work on my skills almost every day, speaking for a class presentation or at meetings acting as our FFA chapter's secretary. I truly never stop communicating, because I want to be able to harness my knowledge and share it with others. I have entered other speaking contest with my local Rotary Club, applied to dozens of scholarships, and scored a 36 in the English portion of the ACT. I can't wait to never stop talking.

Patience is important to me because it affects how people view me, and it is an important factor in delayed gratification. My father was never a patient man. He was always half an hour early to events, and would never do something later if he could do it right now. He would even go thirty miles out of his way to catch a post office that was open fifteen minutes earlier. This could be beneficial, but it also led to a lot of frustration from others. He was short with my grandparents whenever he tried to teach them the newest computer application, and don't even ask about him teaching me how to drive. I vowed to always be patient, especially with my grandparents. I recently had to care for them when they had surgery on the same day, and learned just how hard it can be to be infinitely patient. But it was worth it to see their smiles and sincere thanks for being so kind. The other reason patience is so important to me is the benefits of delayed gratification. Everyone knows a small sample of this, commonly called the "marshmallow test." A kid can either have one marshmallow now, or two if they wait for a certain amount of time. I never went through the marshmallow test as a kid, but I practice delayed gratification on a much larger scale nowadays. Steady work on homework and tests for a year to earn my coveted 4.0 GPA. Or, memorizing a 6-minute speech and practicing it every day for three months to make state for a public speaking contest. It is so easy to only partake in activities that give immediate results. But when you are patient and put in steady work every day, it is definitely worth it.

The most inspiring book I've ever read is one I think about every single say of my life. Slaughterhouse Five, but Kurt Vonnegut, which I never would have read if I hadn't completed my high school's 100 top books list. In it, there are a group of aliens called the Tralfamadorians. (Because they live on the planet of Tralfamadore, naturally.) The Tralfamadorians have a different sense of time than humans do. They believe that a person or Tralfamadorian is never in just one moment, but exists in every moment they have every been in or will be in. This was an absolutely mind blowing concept to 16 year-old me. I had done some thing I wasn't proud of, and I had seen things I would never forget. With this idea, I was always in those moments, always living through that pain and shame and fear. But more importantly, I was in the other moments too. I was always in the moment when I was curled up in my warm bed cuddling with my cat. I was always in the moment when I got to state for public speaking. It was always my birthday, always in the thrilling plunge of a rollercoaster, and always experiencing my first kiss. These thoughts have continued to get me through hard times, knowing that no matter what, I was in a good moment somewhere. That one book and its idea have gotten me to this day, and that's why it is the most inspiring book to me.

Sunny loves two things. Sleeping in the sun, and cuddling with his mom. He'll sit and wait for me to return from school, and regularly jumps in my lap during supper. His orange fur, bright eyes, and sweet personality enchant everyone who meets him, and is rewarded for his beauty by many pets and kisses.

The wisest words I have ever heard were from the BBC Network show Sherlock, season four, episode two. Sherlock recently faked his own suicide and saw how it affected his family and friends. He's currently talking to a woman he met who he deduced was about to commit suicide. He tells her, "Taking you own life. Interesting expression, taking it from who? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own, keep your hands off it." This quote, especially the last line, has impacted me and inspired me to keep going, especially in the midst of my struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts. In my freshman year of high school, a friend and member of the band died by suicide, and I watched as it rocked the world of the entire community. In my sophomore year, I myself attempted suicide by overdose. It deeply hurt and scared my family and friends, and I saw that my life was not my own decision to throw away. This quote has inspired me to since seek help, and see past current struggles to the life I want in the future. I am now on my way to studying medicine and getting my doctorate, and am so glad that I can experience being alive.