Applying to colleges, I remember looking at the gender section. There were four options: Male, Female, Transgender, or Decline to Answer. I did not want to lie, but I sat there and wondered how my choice could change my application answer. Surely, this university could not decline my application if I put transgender—I thought—but also, they could decline me for being transgender as long as they did not say the reason why they declines. I ended up putting Female as the option. My heart hurt looking at it, but it felt like the safest option. I ended up being accepted. I had long ago, back in middle school, decided to not take testosterone. It was not because I did not want the effects of testosterone—I absolutely wanted to be more masculine. But I figured getting the medical support would be an exhaustive process that I was afraid to fight for. My college did not advertise itself as being progressive, but through ties I eventually found out my college's hospital offered testosterone as a medication I could take. The process was incredibly simple, and the staff was more than supportive. But as the medicine's side effects got worse, it was hard to find the support I needed. I had hot flashes so bad that I was about to pass out in 50°F weather, my legs cramped so bad that I could not handle walking to class. While my teachers were supportive of using the correct name and pronouns for me, they did not make allow for this change in my body to excuse my absences or lack of participation. I am a linguistics major, with a particular focus in sociolinguistics, that hopes to receive my master's degree. Sociolinguistics explores the intricate relationship between language and culture; these studies have taught me how certain word choices can influence the perception of marginalised groups. While the word "queer" has been reclaimed by many gay people, the word's original meaning came as a synonym of odd, strange, and weird. In its modern non-offensive usage, queer is used in addition to other words: "queer people" instead of "the queers." Queer by itself was, and sometimes still is, used as a slur. Take the sentence "John is a queer" versus "John is a queer person." The first sentence has a negative connotation, while the second sentence has neutral connotations. Using my knowledge in linguistics, I have learned how word choices such as this can affect me and the identities that I use. I hope to encourage the use of positive and neutral words in regards to marginalized groups, especially LGBTQ+ people. Spreading knowledge to a larger audience can encourage this idea, which I hope to achieve through my career of volunteer work.

When thinking of volunteer and non-profit work, people often think of assisting at food shelters, cleaning up roadways, and tending to local gardens. These are—of course—very important efforts that positively impact our community. However, I have taken a different approach from these traditional ideas. Throughout my teenage and adult years, I have been focused on aiding disabled individuals. This first began when I started writing captions for a hard-of-hearing friend who I met in my American Sign Language class. Over time, this has evolved into me providing captions for various video-based platforms, such as YouTube and TedX. These experiences led me to joining my Michigan State University's, my college, Tower Guard: a volunteer organization dedicated to supporting disabled individuals in our campus community. Along with this volunteer work, I am a linguistics major with a particular interest in sociolinguistics, which explores the intricate relationship between language and culture. These studies have taught me how certain word choice can influence the perception of marginalised groups. For example, many formal writings call Deaf people "hearing-impaired;" this word carries negative connotations within the Deaf community because impairment implies a deficiency or weakness. In contrast, "Deaf people," which uses an identity-first format, emphasizes Deafness as an integral aspect of identity rather than framing it solely as a disability. This interest in sociolinguistics has taught me how language impacts social attitudes and perceptions, which can empower or marginalize groups of people. With this knowledge, I hope to show people the significance of mindful language and how it fosters positive attitudes towards certain groups of people. Disability, like race and gender, is a fundamental part of identity, and it deserves as much respect as any other part of oneself. Currently, I spread this knowledge within my own social group. Whenever someone I know says something uninformed, I tell them what I have learned through classes and my own personal experiences. Eventually, I hope to have a position where I can spread information to a larger audience, who can then adopt a more careful mindset. While I have lost contact with the person I first captioned for, I often think about what they first said to me when they received the captions: "I like to watch YouTube, but I can never understand the words people say. It's really nice to get the full picture like this." Even if it was just one person helped, the idea that I could help other people like my friend enjoy themselves motivated me, as it still does.

Growing up poor has meant that mental health resources are hard to come by. The only free one I ever found was the Suicide Hotline, which had a 45-minute wait when I called. Upon finally being able to talk to someone, their response was simply: "You'll be fine," a response that does nothing to stop a pill bottle in one's tense hand. I have always struggled with my mental health. One of my first memories was of a nightmare I had when I was four; a demon grabbed me by the legs and dragged me through the floor, teleporting me to another world--an unkind world full of other demons. I awoke to my mother yelling at me for the first time in my entire life, convincing me that it was not a nightmare, but rather a true experience, thus sparking a 14-long-year delusion. Having no friends growing up, I then tried to take my life at 11 years old. The day I happened to do it was April Fools' Day, and the next day I went to school, I tried to tell someone about it in order to feel seen. They laughed, then commented that it was a funny joke. At 13 years old, I finally went to a therapist. She often had snarky comments to say about my feelings. When my mother would pick me up from the appointments, she'd insist on me telling her what I said. I refused to say a word to her about it. She threatened me. I told her I would call CPS. It wasn't the first time my mother hit me, but it was the first time I panicked for my life. She punched me, chased me, and threatened me for hours. When I finally picked up the phone, begging for help, my father told me I was lying. The delusions and hallucinations I experienced caused me to lose many friends, which I am still suffering the consequences of. I spent so long trying to survive my childhood that I did not have the time to realize who I am as a person. It is only in recent years that I have had the privilege to realize. I still struggle with mental health, but I have finally learned how to treat myself kindly during it. The mental health industry has failed me, much like the other teenagers who may or may not be here because of it. I have learned that, in order to survive, you need love, and lots of it. You need a big heart and eyes that see the reason people act the way to do.

I am just one of the 11.6% of Americans who struggle with poverty. Both of my parents, who were also born into poverty, never went to college for that reason. My father had a dream to become a pilot, and my mother to be a clinical psychologist. Instead, the lack of income forced them to be low-wage workers. They work hard to survive; my dad often works 18-hour days to support our family. Our family income is just $12,600 a year. Over $10,000 of that is spent on rent, leaving us to string pennies and dimes together to pay for our survival. My name is Malosza, and I spent so long trying to survive that I did not have the time to realize who I am as a person. It is only in recent years that I have had the privilege to realize. I finally saw that I had a dream, a dream to be a pilot and travel the world. And that dream was quickly snatched from my hands due to its extremely costly nature. I also had a dream to be an artist, but realized the lack of job security could not fit me. I looked at lists explaining each high-paying job--each one needing a college degree; I then looked at lists of college tuition--each college being nothing close to the word affordable.The expensive entry and low-dependability in high-level jobs turn many poor students, such as myself, away from college. But my determination to pull myself and my family out of our current circumstances will continue to be unwavering. At the end of my college career, I will have a minimum of $50,000 in debt. As said previously, my family scrapes together all they have just to eat, so this will be disastrous for us. With this money, I would be able to borrow less money, which will lower my amount of debt by a large amount. My mother's eyes would light up at finding $20 on the floor. Every bit of it would go towards low-quality clothes that we'd find at WalMart, then every cent of change towards getting nearly-expired food. The idea of earning anything more than that seems like a dream; in a country where the lower class is handed pennies, being given anything more feels like cheating. In this current system, impoverished people will always stay the same way without a major change. With this money, I would be able to support myself and my family, bringing us one step closer to our dream: living comfortably.

We eat food every day of our entire lives. You may skip a day sometimes, but without food, you will not be alive. Therefore a huge chunk of our lives is spent thinking about food. Planning meals, grocery shopping, preparing food, eating it all. Everyone has a different story and relationship with food, and it is important to try and make it a positive one. I live half the year with my mother and the other half with my father. My mother is very poor, and every dollar she makes is spent on food, clothes, and shelter. My dad is from the upper-middle class, he owns a country club and multiple other smaller businesses. Because of this, I have spent my entire life seeing two completely different worlds, as well as completely different foods. With my mother, we tend to get fast food because of its convenience. She is not good at cooking, so whenever she makes anything, it tends to be from food delivery services. I snack on little things throughout the day rather than have a full meal. It comes as no surprise that I always am in physical pain when I am there. My stomach aches more than not, causing me to lay on my bed in pain rather than focus on what a teenager should. Whenever I have experienced depressing thoughts, it's only ever at her house. With my father, we either bring home food from our restaurant or we get food from other restaurants. On vacation, we try all the strange foods we've never heard of before, as well as getting healthy servings of everything. I am able to exercise and walk much more without being in pain. As said previously, I've dealt with depressive thoughts, which have rarely presented themselves as suicidal. During those scary moments, I force myself to go on walks, and then eat a meal. I notice I feel significantly better afterward, as the energy from doing both those actions allows me to come to my senses. It is clear to notice the patterns that present themselves, and I have vowed to try my best in college to eat the best food that I can find for my lack-of-a-kitchen situation. My mental and physical health is very important to me, and the easiest way to help both are by monitoring my food intact to what is good for my body. I have started a garden now, whose bearings I incorporate into my meals.

Growing up, my only friend was my mother. I had very bad social anxiety, so bad that I refused to make friends. I would sit at the back of the classroom during school, ignoring the people around me and studying by myself, as I was afraid to raise my hand in class. I would freeze up during presentations so often that I never was able to complete one until high school. This affected my everyday life, which concerned my parents so much that they sent me to therapy. That never worked for me though, and I was too afraid and unable to explain my feelings to the therapist, so I quit without learning a single thing. Come high school, the anxiety still writhed in my chest. A big change in my life, though, was the new friends I made. They were very similar to me, but perhaps too similar as they, too, struggled with social anxiety. This left all of us at a stalemate, where none of us could rely on each other to be the social one. We couldn't ask the teacher questions, ask an employee for help, or ask an adult for advice. There was one instance where we collaborated together for a group project. The teacher would not let us skip out on the presentation, so we decided that we all would each take a turn speaking. During practice, I realized how each presenter had their own vocal struggle; many were quiet, mumbled, and couldn't read the words. I levied criticism towards them--how they could improve, without much explanation of what steps they could take to improve. I realized at that moment that if I wanted my presentation done in the way I wanted it, I had to be enough of a leader to explain how to do it, and also be an example. That ended up being the first presentation I ever finished. I had a strong voice, and although I was deathly afraid of the many eyes that watched me carefully, I found ways to overcome the feeling. While I was not able to accurately explain my feelings then, I have now learned how to lead group projects. It took me years to overcome my social anxiety, and I do still struggle with it from time to time. But I learned to set expectations in the beginning, work with people's strong suits, and how to overcome each person's weakness. I've learned that humor and clever writing make me focus on my delivery and aura, rather than people's reaction to my words. I hope to continue working on myself and help others through their struggles too. Social anxiety and self-depreciative tendencies cause many people to stay stuck inside their shells, afraid to explore their true colors. I hope that in the future I can help people cope with those negative feelings. There is no need to be a perfect person, and we cannot overcome our struggles quickly, but with enough patience and self-awareness, we can learn how to become aware of our limits. In the future, I would love to work with people. I still struggle to meet new people, but the experience I gain from going outside of my comfort zone allows me to grow higher than I could ever imagine.

My name is Malosza and I am of Slavic and Middle Eastern descent. I am just entering university as a freshman, unsure of what I want to do as a job. Although I don't know what I'll major in, I do know what I love. I always have Google Docs open, writing everything I love in it. It knows about every religion I have come across and every language I have ever fallen in love with. I have many messaging apps on my phone, specifically for talking to non-native English speakers. We talk in many different languages, improving our language skills and learning about each other's culture. Since I was young, I have always loved the idea of culture. I could get on a plane and fly to some distant land, where they speak a language I've never heard of, worshipping Gods that I have only ever seen in history books. I have been to a few countries before; my father snagged every penny he could, working 18-hour long days so we could fly to Western Europe as a graduation gift. I met people I had only ever dreamed of. We made fun of each other's accents and talked about our home countries. I photographed the beautiful countryside and engaged with the cultures the people lovingly shared with me. I hope to one day travel the world, visiting every country and meeting every type of person there is. Ambitious it is, but it takes a person with a deep passion to do something in order to have said that said thing done. But my family has struggled through poverty all my life; my mom makes just twelve-thousand dollars a year. A roundtrip to-and-from Europe costs eight thousand dollars. We live paycheck to paycheck, always uncertain if the money we make will be enough to cover this month's rent. Through FAFSA I have received a lot of financial aid, but not nearly enough to be able to walk away from college debt-free. If I want to get a job that helps me achieve my dreams, I need to go to college, and I need to get a job I will be successful in. But my college tuition will leave me drowning in over fifty thousand dollars of debt. With this scholarship, I will be much closer to receiving an education without burdening my family, all the while being able to achieve my dreams.

I did not volunteer in the places that are traditional for students. I knew that many students would be there, and although those communities do need help, I wanted to help a community I personally was connected to. It took me a long time to find a place because I had always heard that the only places I could volunteer were food pantries and soup kitchens. I was under the impression that volunteering could only help people in poverty. I stopped to consider who else needed help, but I never could think outside of my narrow perception. I took American Sign Language as my foreign language class in high school. I started to learn about the needs of Deaf people, and I came up with the idea of volunteering to help them in some sort of way. But how could I?--I did not know many Deaf people, and I was not nearly fluent enough in ASL to use that as a medium. As a hobby, I loved to edit videos. The ability to create my own content thrilled me, and I once sent a video of mine to a hard-of-hearing friend. They told me that they would love to watch, but they simply couldn't hear my video. "Without captions," they said, "I can't understand what people are saying in videos." I then opened up YouTube and started editing away at the captions. I did not know what I was doing, but I tried my best to get the words down as best I could in a coherent way. I realized my stuttering and mumbling made me hard to understand at times; through captioning, I realized how people with hearing problems live their day-to-day lives. For that reason, I chose to volunteer as a captioner on TedTalk. Perhaps I did not know many Deaf people in real life, but through virtual assistance, they could access knowledge that they could otherwise not be able to. When I would finish captioning a video I would send it to my friends. Once, one of my friends told me, "Due to my ADHD, it can be hard to understand what people are saying. My mind runs in circles, distracted by so many things that I can't always focus on the words being said. Captioning gives me something to focus on, and therefore understand." Through volunteering as a captioner, I realised the problems many groups of people go through that often go underlooked. My family has struggled through poverty all my life; my mom makes just twelve-thousand dollars a year. We live paycheck to paycheck, always uncertain if the money we make will be enough. Through FAFSA I have received a lot of financial aid, but not nearly enough to be able to walk away from college debt-free. I will need over fifty thousand of my own dollars to be able to go to college, which is over quadruple the amount of money my mother makes in a year--and yet, every penny of that money goes to rent, clothes, and eating. With this scholarship, I will be much closer to receiving an education without burdening my family.

I have been flying ever since I was a child. My parents separated when I was only two years old; my mom went to California, and my dad went to Michigan. I lived with my mom, but twice a year I would go visit my dad, meaning that I flew at least four times a year. Because of this, aviation has always been a very important field to me. Not only that, but as I have become older, I have developed a deep love for travel, cultures, and languages. Aviation has helped me not only visit family but also visit countries all over the world. I have been working on getting my private pilot's license for four months and I have loved it. My ultimate goal is to become a commercial pilot, and with time and a lot of effort, be able to fly to multiple different countries and learn about their cultures. I plan to take about five years to finish college and get to a level where I have enough experience to become a commercial pilot. I would like to work for a large company with bases all over the world; I would especially like to have a base somewhere in Europe. Last winter I went to Europe and fell in love with it; it would be a dream to live there. And constantly be flying to other countries I will be doing flight school alongside college, and I plan on getting a Bachelor's degree in International Studies with a focus on European Studies. While not necessarily crossing over with aviation, I think that we as pilots should be aware of the large world we live in and our importance in how it functions, which International Studies directly relates to. I also want to gain a minor in linguistics. I have always loved languages, and while the world of aviation is purely English, most pilots don't come from a country that mainly speaks English. I am hoping that these degrees, along with my aviation licenses, will help strengthen my understanding of the world. And, along the way, I hope that there will be at least one kid that is helped out by me; who is able to have a loving and deep relationship with both of their parents solely because of the hard work of the aviation industry. And maybe they, too, will realise the importance of aviation and help continue this cycle.

Most engineers have a wonderful story of how they were introduced to their field; they wanted to solve a long-time problem they had, a loved one excitedly showed them their own interest, they always had the mind for invention, or it was perhaps a spur-of-the-moment project gone right. But I am none of that; I simply thought engineering was cool, and that was that. I never did anything interesting, met anyone interesting, or successfully created something of value. My mini-projects made of plastic and paper always broke. My poverty-ridden family never had enough money to support my interest's development, so my story is unlike any other engineer because I am the furthest from the common one. I always thought engineering wasn't for me. Science bored me to tears and math was never my strong suit. I tried out technical things every once in a while, but they often went nowhere. I tried a coding class where we created a simple video game. I loved it and wanted to do more with it, but there were no more classes nearby---at least, within my family's budget. Later I went to a one-night robotics class. Being a girl without much technical knowledge meant that I was the last to be chosen for the teams. The boy I was partnered with did all the work and refused to explain to me how it worked; I then decided to stop trying to explore these fields. To me, it felt like my fault that all these avenues came to dead ends, not even considering the idea that perhaps it was those around me and the circumstances I was in that caused these shortcomings. It just so happened that I realised my interest while researching a video game I liked. I had long been obsessed with the game, specifically with the game's concept art. Being an artist since I was young, aesthetics were always pleasing to me. The concept art would rapidly switch from gothic to steampunk; it was the latter that caught my attention. I found it appealing—large gears, out-of-place wires, impractically-large engineering marvels, and detailed canes, but I specifically loved the prosthetics, bionics, and robotics. When I finally found the word for prosthetics, I started exploring the world of it. It interested me all the styles and methods there were to create one. I started talking to my mom about it, and she told me about the amputees she knew. "Her husband, he recently got a new leg. It's very simple—just a metal pole with no real form. It cost them $10k, and insurance wouldn't cover it." "What?!" It shocked me to find out how much they cost. I researched it more when I got home and repeatedly saw numbers in the ten thousand. The one that interested me most, a beefy transfemoral bionic, cost over $100k. I could not wrap my head around the idea of charging someone so much to improve their quality of life. Was money more important than helping someone? Was emptying a disabled person's wallet really necessary? It was when I became disabled myself that I realised the answer to my questions. My concerns were constantly brushed aside, being replaced by half-answers that were never explained or made sense. When I suggested what I thought my problem was, I would instead be told it was depression, anxiety, and period pains; those medications made the doctors money. When I told my last doctor what I was doing to relieve my pain, she told me to stop. She had never heard of that method before, and I should just give up and wait for my condition to worsen until receiving surgery. Because of my own experience with doctors and insurance providers, I knew I wanted to do something to help amputees. While my disease might not have an answer, there is a clear answer with amputees. Few low-cost prosthetics are in development and the ones that are tend not to be very advanced in technology. I want to help make low-cost prosthetics that are advanced in technology; disabled people should be allowed to live without being constantly in medical debt. I know that I'm far from the optimal engineer. I have nothing showing that I am capable, and my grades that scarcely passed a low B show the opposite. But there is a need for change in the world, and I want to be an advocator for it.

Growing up in poverty, being money-conscious was always important to my family. Twenty dollars would make much of a difference; it could go towards the gas, perhaps a few cheap meals, a much-needed clothing item, the rent, or a mix of all of those. While we have gradually grown out of the situation, because I learned to budget at one of the most influential ages of my life, I've always had the need to keep track of all my money. Now as a soon-to-be adult and college student, it's more important than ever to watch my finance. I will need to balance my own needs with my education, and now is a great time to start practicing. Currently, my education is free, but I already have money set aside for immediate education needs such as buying books and parking passes. I've started planning on how to organize my own needs as well, like rent, groceries, and gas. To me, the most important step in managing my finances is thinking ahead. Knowing where I might spend money and having a plan helps limit unnecessary spending and allows me to spend more money where needed. Having a cost tracker and talking to others about their own finances helps keep me conscious about it. My father being a businessman means he knows much about how and where to spend his money. Talking to him about money helps educate me and make me more aware of myself. College is an incredibly expensive luxury that I am lucky to be even considering. Whether I plan on going to college or a trade school, it would cost me a minimum of $80k for the field I would like to go into. In the past, it would be impossible for me to do something like this, but because of careful planning on my dad's part, he was able to grow our business and income. I have had a part-time job for years and am trying to earn money on the side through various means. I am hoping that this extra effort will make the money burden lesser and help keep me and my family out of educational debt. In the past, both of my parents had to drop out of college because of how much money it was. Now, they have both done their best to assure that this will not happen to me as well by constantly keeping their finances in check; something I will always continue to do.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with an illness is effected by what I eat. I also discovered I have multiple intolerances; gluten, dairy, and sugar majorly upsets my stomach. Because of this, I found myself in constant pain that only grew strong as I aged. While I found out about my food problems, my body and mentality ached. I was depressed about what felt like an impossible situation to get out of. At random, my back and legs would suddenly be in intense pain. When I became a junior, I knew that this was a problem that I would have to work on if I wanted to enjoy my life at all. The first steps were setting up a schedule and what foods I could have. I decided that I would skip breakfast and instead have a snack, then have a small lunch and a large dinner. This give me a rhythm to stick to. I limited my gluten intake and changed by milk for almond milk. I could have bread once every other day. Most importantly, and hard to stick to, was limiting by sugar intake to 25g a day. While hard to adapt to, it was easy to pursue this diet during COVID, when I could eat whenever and whatever I wanted during school. When school started again, I had to change my diet once again. I included the lackluster school lunches as snacks between my small breakfast and late lunch. I started to eat after school instead of during school, as bringing nutritional food wasn't easy. The neighborhood that I live in is not safe. Since I cannot go outside my house's property, I instead like to walk around my house or simply spend time outside. I have found that simply just being outside helps my mental health tremendously. I give myself time after school to sit on the cement by my patio--usually just taking in the air and clearing my head. I have been looking for colleges that are in safe neighborhoods so that I can start jogging. If I instead commute college, I plan on moving in with my dad. He currently lives in a safe suburban neighborhood, with a private beach nearby. While I do work on my health currently, I am hoping that when I turn eighteen that my freedom will allow me to find better ways to work on myself. I am hoping to start jogging, meditation, a better diet, and possibly to start going to the gym. Until then, I will continue working on my mental health and taking the little steps I can to work on myself.

My favorite character is one whose often forgotten about, yet is very important to the Disney company. It is Walt Disney's first famous character who rocketed the company into success—it's Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Like most people, I discovered him through Epic Mickey—a video game where Mickey Mouse is forced to wonder through a world filled with Disney's forgotten characters. Oswald is the king of this world and is spiteful that Mickey gained the success that Oswald feels he rightfully deserves. In the end, Oswald realizes that Mickey never meant to steal his success, and only was doing his job of trying to make people happy. The two make up with each other, and it is revealed that the two are actually brothers. But that is only a summary. The actual game plays more on the pain the forgotten toons feel and the unintentional pain Mickey put them through. It is a game about pain and family. I first played the game nearly ten years ago, at an age where the game left a strong impact on me. As I grew older, I started developing family and emotional problems of my own, and found him a character I could heavily relate to. Oswald is a character with a very interesting history also. He was made a year before Mickey Mouse by Walt Disney and Ub Iwerks, who were working under Universal Studios at the time. They made twenty-six cartoons for Universal. Oswald was an instant success, and shot the Disney Studio into the public eye. But after the contract for the cartoons were up, it was revealed to Walt that if he were to sign another contract, then his pay would be decreased and employees lessened. Walt declined the offer and proposed he worked on Oswald outside Universal, but instead Walt's employees revealed that he owned the rights to Oswald. Walt left the studio in an anger, deciding he would create his own cartoon that he exclusively owned the rights to; this toon ended up being Mickey Mouse. Oswald has a very interesting history and characterization that sticks out among the sea of similar Disney characters. He is one that I find the most similar to myself, and therefore a very important character to me.

During COVID, I experienced multiple negative things that caused me to have a rather pessimistic outlook on my life and other people. I found myself with no friends, no passions, and no need to fix either. I thought of myself as someone who could function fine without others, and that I could just distract myself with various other means. In the days leading up to the start of the invasion of Ukraine, I found myself anxiously sitting in front of my computer screen, talking to whoever I could about the situation. I did not understand why at the time, but despite myself not knowing anyone in Ukraine, I was extremely nervous. When the invasion finally happened and families started refuging, I spoke with my dad about helping a family come to the USA. While we were never able to do it because of the government's rigorous rules regarding it, I found out something very important to me: our family came to the USA from Ukraine. Previously, I had no sort of identity. I was just a monolingual living in the US--no sort of culture attached to me. I felt like I had nothing to define me, and therefore I presented myself as nothing more than a person. I was something, but not someone. But when I found out we were from Ukraine, I felt a sense of attachment. There was a language, a culture, and people that were similar to my distant family. I finally had an idea of a person that I wanted to become. I researched Ukraine and started to learn the language. I talked to people in Ukrainian and got to discover the beautiful things that surrounded the culture. I let it become part of my identity. I felt like I finally became a person. Now, I find myself with many friends. Most are Ukrainian, and we help one another with our languages. I like to research linguistics and various cultures in my free time. I love to learn about the world and the lovely people who habit it. When I look back on my past self, I do not see someone bad, but rather someone hurt. Someone that didn't know where to go in life and only needed a nudge to move forward. I have found that despite the big changes, I still am the same person from back then; only now, I have a reason to move forward.

Next month will be my ten year anniversary since I played my favourite game. I have had a strange sort of obsession with it since the first time I played it, and have therefore absorbed all information regarding in into my head. Characters, backstory, abandoned plot ideas, leaked storyboards--I've seen it all. My favourite scrapped concept art has always been the steampunk and cyberpunk land aesthetics. Blimps, gears, old-timey, and neon lights, futuristic, slick designs. They always stuck out to me whenever I went into the concept art menu, so I decided to start researching those two concepts outside of the game; and I fell in love with it. I spent a lot of my free time going onto obscure websites that would give me a hint more into the idea of the two aesthetics. One thing that both had in common was prosthetic limbs. I loved all the different styles that appeared, so I decided to looking at prosthetic limbs in general; I looked at the methods they were made, the style, and how they work. It is because of this that I would like to work on prosthetic limbs in the future. Specifically, I would like to work on low-cost ones; even the most basic of prosthetics cost an outrageous amount. The reality is that most amputees are poor. They come from the common middle class--they work hard, but now they have most likely lost their job. Who would hire an amputee, and therefore, where will an amputee receive money? Perhaps the government, or healthcare, but they are hesitant to give them even a quarter of what it costs to get a prosthetic. Most amputees live in places without affordable healthcare and lack access to materials to even make it themselves. I would like to help in the effort of making it easy and affordable to all. The tech industry does have a social and moral obligation to be inclusive to all. In today's age, the world revolves around technology. And what is not based in technology will soon be replaced by it. Because of the constant consumption by all people, it needs to be made for all people. To make it for a certain group of people and to ignore the complaints of those who cannot use it is a social injustice. It is also an injustice to require a fee to help people who need extra assitance; it is not one's fault for their own being.

Since I was young, it was known that I had ADHD and autism, but my parents were very against putting me on medication to help my ability to focus. As an elementary schooler, it didn't bother me at all; the work was so easy that I would breeze through it. But as I entered higher education, the effects of it started being shown. I couldn't focus on anything that I found boring, and all the work became tedious and confusing. My grades slipped far, and I struggled to keep them as high as my parents wanted them. When COVID hit, online school became a strange mess for me. I loved being able to do homework whenever I felt like it, but I often skipped class and had to learn the material myself. It became even worse when I noticed a strange lump in my inner thigh, a lump that hadn't gone away for over six months. When I finally got it checked, I was told by a rather apathetic dermatologist that I had hidradenitis suppurativa. She didn't explain what it was or if it was curable, so I spent the next few months anxiously researching it on my computer. At the same time, I was anxious over many other things; I had lost my smell, I became sensitive to bright lights, I had a seizure, at random I would get deep stabbing pains, and my legs were so weak I often could barely walk. And yet I didn't and still haven't gotten diagnosed with anything. I don't have healthcare and I come from a very poor family---out of the few times we have had spare money to spend on me to go to the doctor, my problems were often ignored and written off as something else. Ultimately, my goal is to not let my illnesses control me. I want to figure out the source of the problems that doctors keep writing off, I want to get the medication or other help I need to make sure that in the future it doesn't effect me as much as it does now, and I want to reach toward my dreams. My illnesses are part of me, but I won't let them define me.

My parents have been separated since I was two years old, and I have mostly lived with my low-income single mother since then. She is an off-the-grid hair-dresser, who has made an average of $12,000 a year, all the while residing in one of the most expensive states in the USA, California. She often would have to debate whether to eat or pay rent; luxuries such as toys and restaurants were something unheard of to us. When we were shopping for clothes, it was always at Walmart, and we wouldn't pay anything over ten dollars. Our car seemed to constantly haunt us with problems, but it was not in our budget to ever fix it. The light on the dash never worked, so my mom would instead hold a flashlight in her hand to see what the gages said. Since then, it has become slightly better---now she makes $20,000 and my dad is back in my life, despite being across the country from me. Still, the effects of being so incredibly impoverished have stayed and affects my every decision as a soon-adult. I often find myself cringing to pay more than twenty dollars for an item. When deciding on food, I never once thought of going to a restaurant. The one thing I have changed is buying clothes from Walmart---instead, I found an even cheaper place to buy my clothes. When you are poor, there are a lot of problems---and a lot of problems could be solved with a hundred dollars more or a little less bad luck. There always are cheaper alternatives to problems though, and I have learned how to find them. Sewing my clothes, using some odd website, spending hours comparing prices and qualities of an item, being assertive when someone decides they want to get a buck out of you; I have learned it all. It is specifically because of this that I have dedicated certain passions of mine into a future career. Depending on the degrees available to me, I would like to pursue a degree in mechanical engineering or mechatronics engineering. Due to my persistent bad luck with cars and mechanics who want to get a buck out of my mom, we have been consistently scammed in the past with no way to fight back. I want to change this and become a mechanic who not only fixes your car right the first time, but also does not burn a hole in your wallet. If I do not have the opportunity to do this, I would also like to become a maker of low-priced prosthetics. All prosthetics on the market cost thousands of dollars, with amputees having little money to buy these. I would like to join or make a company that manufactures low-priced prosthetics, as I do not believe in charging much, if any, money for physical and mental healthcare. My mother and I have long had many physical health problems, with no way of getting help with them due to not having health care. While not the same as the problems amputees go through, I understand how high pricing can turn away people who need help. While I wish I did not have to suffer through poverty growing up, I do hope that I can help people like me through various low-cost means.

Since I was very young, my parents have lived on opposite sides of the country; my mother in California, and my father in Michigan. Due to this, for many years, I have flown across the country to see both of them during the changing seasons. It has been hard to achieve, as we are not even close to having much money, but we have made it work. My first flight was when I was just a few months ago, and ever since then, I have gone on an average of four flights a year--two to Michigan, two to California. The aviation and travel industry, due to this constant traveling, has therefore been vital to me, and I've developed a love for both. I hope to one day become a pilot, helping the children in the same situation I had been in for so many years, and to travel the world--a dream that my dad has always wanted to do, but never had the money to. I plan to receive either a major or a minor in aviation. Both are very expensive, with an average tuition of over ninety thousand dollars. Despite this, I hope to receive enough help from scholarships to receive this degree and achieve my dream of becoming a pilot. My personal goals directly tie into my love of travel. I love the cultures and languages of the world and spend my free time researching and learning about them. I have only been to three countries, but I hope to one day go to all the ones that are accessible to the common person. Growing up monolingual makes learning other languages hard to learn, but I still spend my free time learning them, hoping that one day I can happily call myself multilingual. I hope to learn languages now, to be able to go to the country that speaks to them in the future. Becoming a pilot will help me be able to visit all these countries, and hopefully, expand my outreach to the many cultures of people that are in the aviation industry. I hope that being able to go to a good college will allow me to receive a high-paying job quickly, allowing me to limit my school debt which would negatively affect my family. While becoming a pilot is expensive, I hope that the paycheck of it will be enough to help my family and to achieve my goals.

Being a poverty-stricken, queer woman in a society that mainly serves rich, straight men makes education and daily life hard to cope with.My mom and I have been plagued by car issues our entire lives. Constantly breaking, leaving us stranded. But we couldn't just fix our car---we barely even had a place to live, who was going to fund us to get a working car? When a problem persisted long enough, we'd finally scrap enough money together to go to the mechanic. She'd point out what was wrong with the car, requesting specific things to be fixed to the men who owned these various auto shops. But my mother is a woman. The mechanics would speak to her in a condescending tone of voice, carelessly waving away her concerns. They were the professionals---the tough men of the household, who knew more than this "dingy, stupid blonde." The lack of respect for women, especially poor women without quality education, paraded around me and my mom, taking our money as they pleaded. Car troubles have seemed to always taunt me. I've been in two car crashes, two of our cars sit in our driveway broken, and the single surviving car makes noises that would leave anyone anxious. But everyone either writes it off or makes up new problems with our cars that cost an outrageous sum of money. After all, we are dingy blondes, right? We don't know the first thing about a car, even if we tried to learn. But I'm tired of this---being written off only because I am a woman. I plan on studying mechanical engineering. I'm not very good at math or physics, but someone has to be my role model---and if no one else will be a minority woman who just wants to have a car that doesn't take away money from her meals, then I will. I will pursue this engineering degree, and even despite my lack of mathematical smarts, I'll get that degree. And then I won't charge you money to see what's wrong with your car, I won't write off your concerns, I won't challenge your common sense and car smarts, I won't charge you for problems that don't exist, I won't empty your wallet of every penny, and I won't damage your car. I'll take your car, I'll fix it, and you'll be back on the road the next day. The first time that happens, maybe you'll be confused that the problem was fixed. And the second time, you'll be shocked it happened again. And then maybe one day, you won't think twice about it---because the people abused by the system finally stood up and decided to change it. You won't have to skip meals to be able to get to school on time anymore. Being a first-generation, queer, poor woman means that the odds are against me in society. I have been constantly looked down upon; I've been mocked---seen as nothing but helpless. Achieving diversity in the workplace would mean that people would have to struggle like me, and that's what matters most to me. Allowing people to have their voices heard, to not be challenged and shoved back to the bottom of the system just like me and my mother has, is what's most important to me.

I am a poverty-stricken seventeen-year-old, who lives part-time in Michigan and California. My parents split at a young age, which makes school hard, as I often would be in a different state than where my school is. My mom is a hairdresser in California, who is lucky to make more than fifteen thousand dollars a year. My dad is a business owner in Michigan, who would have much more money if it weren't for the fact that we seem to be always plagued by costly issues. Having two separated parents means you live two very different live styles. With my mother, it seems like we've gone through it all: a car that doesn't work, always one missed paycheck from homelessness, inability to do anything fun, and even abuse. With my father, he has always been distant. Not by choice, but by will. He works an average of eighty hours a week to keep food on our table, so I often stay home alone, rarely having more than an hour to spend time with him. Because of this constant back-and-forth, I've been consistently exposed to the field of aviation. Going on an average of four flights a year, I've been on at least fifty flights in my life. Low-cost flights are the only thing that has allowed me to have a relationship with both of my parents over the years and are therefore very dear to me. But that's not the only thing they've done for me---me and my dad share one huge common interest: traveling. Due to this, I've developed a dream of becoming a pilot. Being able to help others who are stuck in situations just like mine, be able to have an income that will allow me to help both of my parents, and finally be able to share memories of traveling with my dad would be my dream. But as many people know, a degree in aviation is not cheap---often costing at least one hundred thousand dollars. I hope to receive scholarships that would be willing to help me with my dream. Using this scholarship, I could be able to afford tuition, housing, and fees that I normally wouldn't be able to pay. This could lead to a domino effect---ultimately letting me help my family get out of the desperate situation that we were put in all those years ago. One day we won't have to worry if there will be food on the table, and rather we could ponder what country to go to next.

Being a poverty-stricken woman in a society that mainly serves rich men makes quality education hard to reach. Many times in school I would be absent due to my mom's twenty-year-old car breaking down on the street, leaving two vulnerable girls on the side of a strange, unfamiliar road. I've been unable to go to extracurricular activities, clubs, and hobbies; how we would be able to afford the materials and gas? When that twenty-year-old car finally took a dump, my mom went to the mechanic. She scrapped money together from our couch and the people willing to make a donation to her, thinking that she'd finally get a reliable car. But no, my mother is a woman. The mechanics would speak to her in a condescending tone of voice, carelessly waving away her concerns. They were the professionals---the tough men of the household, who knew more than this "dingy, stupid blonde." When we received the car, it was in "working" condition---but there was a catch. The engine was put together in such a sloppy way that many things were either missing, broken or bent in ways you couldn't imagine metal could go. The reasonable action was to sue them, but you need money to do that. The car troubles have seemed to always taunt me. I've been in two car crashes, two of our cars sit in our driveway broken, and the single surviving car makes noises that would leave anyone anxious. But everyone either writes it off or makes up new problems with our cars that cost an outrageous sum of money. After all, we are dingy blondes, right? We don't know the first thing about a car, even if we tried to learn. But I'm tired of this; if no one will fix these cars, I will. And for a fair price too. I plan on studying mechanical engineering. I'm not very good at math or physics, but someone has to be my role model---and if no one else will be that poverty-stricken woman who just wants to have a car that doesn't take away money from her meals, then I will. I will pursue this engineering degree, and even despite my lack of mathematical smarts, I'll get that degree. And then I won't charge you money to see what's wrong with your car, I won't write off your concerns, I won't challenge your common sense and car smarts, I won't charge you for problems that don't exist, I won't empty your wallet of every penny, and I won't damage your car. I'll take your car, I'll fix it, and you'll be back on the road the next day. The first time that happens, maybe you'll be confused that the problem was fixed. And the second time, you'll be shocked it happened again. And then maybe one day, you won't think twice about it---because the people abused by the system finally stood up and decided to change it. You won't have to skip meals to be able to get to school on time anymore.