Losing a parent puts a hole in your heart that is unique and unmatched by any other pain. Watching them suffer though, is another experience in itself. Our parents are supposed to be the ones kissing our boo-boos and giving us advice on how to get through the hard things in life. They most definitely aren't supposed to be that very thing that is hard in our lives. I was 8 years old when my dad passed away from Lymphoma. His diagnosis started when I was just 6. Most kids around me were worried about the snacks in their lunch boxes, but my worries were different. My dad was a very strong man mentally, emotionally and physically. We used to jokingly call him The Hulk because of how many shared traits he had with the hero. Large in size, large in strength and loud and obnoxious in all the best ways. He was an amazing singer, who gave me his talent. I too sing and plan to do professionally. He had the best sense of humor and could make any situation funny, which I loved because it meant that even the saddest moments with him didn't have to be sad. He was incredibly protective and easygoing at the same time. His laugh and personality were as loud and vibrant as the fireworks on the Fourth of July. I remember watching him fix, quite literally, anything broken. He had a way with mechanics and hard work. He spent time with his mother and family anytime he could. He worked on upgrading things around the house, all while on chemotherapy and as sick as ever. He made our world a better place and made us feel like we could do no wrong. Losing him was so hard and living life without him now as I grow up sometimes feels even harder than the initial loss. When I became a songwriter and learned to express myself through music, however, it was a way to heal and help me remember him without having to "talk about it". I try to honor him in any way I can. I have sleepovers with his mother (my "nannie") every chance I get. I learned guitar on the one he gave me, even though I was older and it was a small pink toy-like instrument. I have worked hard at school to make him proud, and now I'll be the first person in my family to ever go to college. I miss my dad terribly (even writing about him here brings tears to my eyes) but I have gained a strength that I may have never known without the journey I've been on. I will never forget him. I will never forget his laugh and his strength and I will never forget how to honor him best; with my life.

Losing a parent puts a hole in your heart that is unique and unmatched by any other pain. Watching them suffer though, is another experience in itself. Our parents are supposed to be the ones kissing our boo-boos and giving us advice on how to get through the hard things in life. They most definitely aren't supposed to be that very thing that is hard in our lives. I was 8 years old when my dad passed away from Lymphoma. His diagnosis started when I was just 6. Most kids around me were worried about the snacks in their lunch boxes, but my worries were different. My parents were already separated by the time I was born and while my dad was struggling to get through the monster they call cancer, he couldn't work and he couldn't help my mother financially or really at all. Because of this, my mother was fighting a fight of her own. It wasn't losing her hair and struggling to keep her weight on like it was for him, but instead, it was losing our home. Within a couple of years, I had managed to attend 6 different schools and live in 2 different homeless shelters. My mother worked as hard as she could to get ahead and turn things around for us and watching her do it alone, all while worrying about my dad, was a disease in itself. I began suffering from separation anxiety by the time I was 7. I worried about people passing away or feeling pain or illness. I worried about losing things that belonged to us and I felt a responsibility to cling tight to what little we had finally earned. My stress about my father's illness really set in the year before we lost him. He was changing quickly and I could see it. His hair loss, his skin color and a certain smell from the chemotherapy that still to this day haunts me when I hear the word "cancer". I cried a lot that year. I wanted to help my daddy and I had no control. That same year my mother was told about a summer camp, free of charge, for children who had a parent with cancer. I'll never forget attending Camp Kesem for the first time. I just kept thinking "How do we act like normal kids and go to summer camp when we aren't normal at all?". I was completely wrong. We were normal kids. Camp Kesem just had to remind us of that. Playing games, laughing until our faces hurt, and exchanging pranks were just some of the best escapes they provided for us. There were emotional talks along the way that were intended to help us heal but for me, it was the normalcy that did the healing. I've now attended 10 years of camp since then. As I grew older I grew stronger. My anxiety got worse, but then it got better. My personality started to embody a sense of strength and acceptance. I became a songwriter and learned to express myself through music. I worked hard at school to make him proud, and now I'll be the first person in my family to ever go to college. I miss my dad terribly (even writing about him here brings tears to my eyes) but I have gained a strength that I may have never known without the journey I've been on. I will never forget him. I will never forget his laugh and his strength and I will never forget how to honor him best; with my life.

I first fell in love with Kayleigh "Chappel Roan" Rose when I heard her story of self-made success from the over-populated and saturated music capital of the world, Nashville, Tennessee. She was a young singer/songwriter with a dream of success and never gave up until she had it in the palm of her hand! Her ability to be herself, which also means being her alter-ego self, has paved the way for so many other young pop artists like me, specifically to express themselves without hate, or better yet, in spite of hate. Her bravery and ability to not "give a damn" is an inspiration to all, young and old alike. When I think about the music she has created and the lyrics she speaks, it's lines like "I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in L.A" .... "I'm having wicked dreams of me leaving TN, Oh Santa Monica I swear is calling me" that really caught my attention. I am a young singer/songwriter myself. I come from a very small town, population 1500, where my peers cared more about showing animals and riding backroads than chasing dreams. I never fit in. I always felt like another place was calling me. In my case, the place she was dreaming of leaving was the very place that was calling me closer; Nashville, TN. I worked hard to show my parents that my talents and work ethic were worthy of moving our entire family from tiny Edgewood, TX to the magic city of Nashville and eventually that hard work paid off. I have been in the Nashville area for the past year now and I am working hard to attend Belmont University for a commercial songwriting degree. Since taking the leap of faith and moving out here, my brother and I have joined our Modern Rock band at school, my sister is in a competitive dance team and writing songs herself, and my parents have found themselves happier than ever. Chappel isn't just a popstar, she is an example. She is an inspiration. She is a go-getter. I am here to show the world that I am also those things, and I will not stop for any "haters" or traditional money sucking record labels. I will be myself, whatever that may be and whatever that may cost, and I know it is possible to do those things and still be successful, thanks to Chappel and her amazing example.