Sickness swelled in my grandmother's chest during the first semester of my tenth-grade year. COVID crashed her Irish getaway. She called me from her European hospital bed. Her voice was unrecognizable, something of a death rattle. The thought that she might not make it back to the States alive infiltrated my brain. I was dealing with so much already between broken childhood friendships and health issues of my own. I was in so much distress my stomach rebelled against me for months on end. I was in and out of the doctor's office trying to figure out why I lost twelve pounds in a month. The conditions of my inner world were perfect for a storm of hopelessness. The clouds were so thick I couldn't see my future a foot before me. I was 16 years old thinking I didn't have anything to offer. In the second semester of my sophomore year, I took a creative writing course offered by my school. Going into it I knew I didn’t like to write, but I heard creative writing was an easy A. Sure enough, at the end of the first quarter I had an A+ and a surprising new passion for writing. During my junior year, I helped to reestablish the journalism program at my school. It was retired with its former editor and chief over a decade ago. I became a student editor and even published a couple of my articles. The exhilaration I felt knowing people could enjoy my work solidified that I wanted to do this writing thing for a living. Writing is responsible for my enthusiasm for life. It illuminated my future once again. It showed me I can create whatever narrative I want. I manufacture characters and build worlds of my own. I personify objects, feelings, and ideas. I process my emotions and reality through writing. My journal is a place where I can be unapologetically unconventional. My stories are a place for fantasy and opinion. Writing has given me paradise in the eyes of chaos. I’m tethered to it in a way that is almost spiritual. Writing is always here for me. It’s my religion and greatest love. My life's passion is to be a successful published author. The first step in doing that is going to college. I want to better my craft by educating myself. We write about the things we know, and I have so much to learn. I’m eight teen years old and I have everything to offer. I have so much life to live and I want to spend it doing activities of quality and substance. I will write until my hand is disintegrating off my wrist. I won’t quit until I’m satisfied with what I’ve done, and I always feel like I can do more. My future Impact will be loud and meaningful because my future is what I write. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and consider my application.