Sunflowers are known for turning toward the light, but what people often overlook is how much effort it takes to keep turning. Living with ADHD has felt like that constant adjustment—quiet, exhausting, and largely invisible. For years, my struggles were dismissed because they didn’t fit the stereotype. I wasn’t failing classes or acting out; I was forgetting details, losing track of time, and working twice as hard to produce the same results. Teachers saw capability, not the cost of maintaining it. It took persistence—and frustration—to finally secure a 504 plan, to have my ADHD recognized as something real and not just a lack of effort. That process taught me early on that invisible disabilities are not just difficult to live with; they are difficult to prove. That tension—between what is seen and what is felt—became the foundation of my work in studio art. As an artist, I explore the female experience through the lens of hidden pain: the quiet expectations to endure, to appear composed, to carry internal struggles without recognition. My pieces often center on fragmented forms, layered textures, and obscured faces—visual representations of what it feels like to exist beneath the surface. I am drawn to the idea that pain, especially for women, is often aestheticized or ignored, much like invisible disabilities. Through my work, I try to make that hidden experience undeniable. Art is also where my ADHD becomes an advantage rather than a limitation. The same mind that struggles with linear structure thrives in creative exploration. I can hyperfocus for hours, building detail, revising compositions, and pushing ideas further than I initially imagined. Art gives me a space where my thinking is not something to control, but something to trust. Music has been another parallel journey. As a pianist, discipline and consistency are essential—two things that ADHD complicates. Practicing required me to develop systems, patience, and resilience in ways that didn’t come naturally. There were moments when progress felt slow and frustrating, when my effort didn’t match my expectations. But like visual art, piano became a space where persistence mattered more than perfection. It taught me how to work with my mind instead of against it. My awareness of hidden struggle extends beyond my own experience. In my school community, I’ve seen how issues like substance abuse often intersect with unaddressed mental health challenges and invisible disabilities. These experiences are frequently minimized or misunderstood, especially when they don’t fit a visible narrative. This has deepened my commitment to creating work—and spaces—that acknowledge complexity rather than simplify it. Art keeps me engaged because it reminds me that there are multiple ways to understand and express the world. It has allowed me to stay connected to my education, even when traditional environments felt isolating. More importantly, it has given me a voice—to represent experiences that are often overlooked, including my own. Like a sunflower, I am still learning how to turn toward the light. But through art, music, and persistence, I’ve found ways to grow even when that light isn’t immediately visible. My goal is not just to succeed within existing spaces, but to reshape them—to make room for people whose struggles, like mine, are not always seen, but are always real.

The most interesting part of any headline isn’t the event itself—it’s everything that came before it. As a student journalist, I’ve learned that no issue exists in isolation. Every policy debate, social conflict, or inequity I’ve reported on is part of a much larger story shaped by history, political decisions, and cultural forces over time. I’ve always been drawn to understanding why societies function the way they do—why some communities thrive while others struggle, and how systems of power influence those outcomes. Through my work on my school newspaper and my involvement in Youth & Government, I’ve come to see that addressing present-day issues requires more than awareness; it requires context. The deeper I look into the stories I cover, the more I realize that the present is inseparable from the past. As a writer, I’ve covered topics that directly affect my community, from education policy to social inequities. What stands out to me is that the most meaningful stories are never just about what is happening now. They are rooted in larger patterns—policies shaped by past decisions, cultural narratives that influence perception, and systems that persist over time. This realization is what drew me to political science and history. I want to understand not only what is happening, but why. One issue I’ve become particularly interested in is how historical inequality continues to shape access to resources today, especially in areas like education and public health. These disparities are not random; they are the result of long-standing political and social structures. By studying political science and history, I hope to better understand how these systems are created, how they are maintained, and most importantly, how they can be changed. In Youth & Government, I’ve had the opportunity to engage directly with policymaking, debating legislation and considering how laws impact different communities. This experience showed me that policy is not just theoretical—it has real, immediate consequences. It also reinforced the importance of informed decision-making. Without a strong understanding of historical context and political systems, it’s easy to propose solutions that overlook deeper causes or unintended effects. I plan to pursue a career in law, potentially in entertainment law, where I can work at the intersection of media, policy, and representation. Media has a powerful influence on how people understand the world, and I’m interested in how legal frameworks can shape that influence more responsibly. Regardless of the specific path I take, my goal is to use my education to advocate for more equitable systems. Understanding history and political science is essential to making meaningful change because it allows us to recognize patterns, question assumptions, and approach problems with greater depth. Rather than addressing issues at a surface level, I want to contribute to solutions that are informed, intentional, and sustainable. Ultimately, I believe that making the world a better place starts with understanding it. By studying the forces that have shaped societies over time, I hope to become someone who not only analyzes problems, but actively works to address them in a thoughtful and lasting way.