My goal in life is to help people who can't help themselves. I want to help people who are in difficult situations that they were forced to be in and need help getting out. Not everyone has the power or voice to ask for help, and I want to help them discover their voice.

I've grown up in a very religious family. One of my uncles is a Pastor. We go to church. My parents look at people differently if they go against their beliefs. They see the LGBTQ+ community as a group that goes against God. We go to the mall, they see two guys holding hands, and they cringe. Like it was the worst thing they've ever seen. I never thought people had to keep who they loved a secret from their families or the world. I had never understood why people had to hide who they loved until I had to. When you're in elementary or middle school, you don't know who you'll fall in love with when you're older. You can picture it, but you don't know until it happens. I always pictured myself with a guy, like everyone has told me to. I didn't understand that once I went to college, it would all change. I didn't fall in love with a boy like I had grown up to know. A guy didn't come into my life. A boy didn't look at me the way she looked at me. It wasn't a guy; it was a girl. She's changed my life in a way I had never imagined, but how do I tell my parents I'm going against their beliefs? How do I tell them I'm throwing everything they taught me out the window? I never understood the "hiding in the closet" part of this until I had to do it. I'm still going through it. What change do I wish to see in the world? I want my kids and my kid's kids to grow up in a world where they don't need to hide who they love. I want them to live in a world where they don't have to be in fear because they love someone that people don't find "socially acceptable." I don't want to be in a household where I can't tell my parents about the person I love because they think it's wrong. Everyone deserves to live in a world where they can love who they love without being shamed. I can't change the world, but I can try to help it. I want to be able to tell my parents who I am in love with, and they're happy for me. I don't want them to look at me and think I'm going against God. I want to feel safe enough to go to my parents and introduce them to this girl who's changed my life in a way I can't explain. I want to invite her to Thanksgiving and Christmas. I want them to meet her. I want to live in a world where I can do these things. I want other people to be able to as well. Doesn't everyone deserve that? Doesn't everyone deserve to be happy?

When I was little, we got a dog. Chinook. He was an Alaskan malamute jumbo, and he was my best friend. I talked to him about everything that happened in my life. If I had to go to my mom's house for the weekend, I would tell him every single time, "Don't worry, I'll be back on Monday." When I came home, he would be the first person I said "Hi" to. As big of a dog as he was, he was a baby. He would howl and scream if we locked him outside in the rain. If he wanted attention, he would jump into my bed. He would take up the entire bed, my twin-sized bed until I would give him my attention. One night in high school, I was getting ready for bed because I had a water polo tournament the next day. I went to the kitchen and was going to say goodnight to him. He stood up, his leg snapped, and he fell over screaming. I yelled for my dad to hurry, and he came running and asked what had happened. I told him everything I saw, and he told me to go to my room. I woke up the next day, and Chinook was still sleeping when I left. I told him bye, and I went to my tournament. When my dad dropped me off, he said he would be going to the vet and would be back when they were all done. I was in the middle of our final game to get third place when my dad showed up. We won the game, and all I could think was telling Chinook. We came home, and I ran inside to tell him. My thought was that if dad got to the tournament, then Chinook was fine, and he was home. I ran looking for him, but I couldn't find him. My dad stopped me and told me they had to put him down. Chinook had bone cancer, and when his leg snapped, it was cancer. It spread to his legs, and at the vet, when they stuck the needle into his leg, it went through his bone like a sponge. Dad didn't want to tell me at the tournament because he wanted me to stay focused. Chinook was my best friend. I turned to him for everything. I told him everything. If I met someone, I would come home from school and tell him. If I was going on a date, I showed him my outfits to be sure they looked good. If I came home crying, he would run to me and sit with me until I stopped crying. Chinook was there for me when my other friends could be bothered. When my parents cared more about themselves than me, Chinook was there. When he died, I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't see myself getting out of bed and going to the kitchen and knowing he wouldn't be in there waiting for me. I didn't have someone to turn to when I was upset or had good news. I love him, and I think about him every day.

As a kid, I wanted to be everything. I told my parents I would be a dentist, actress, singer, hair stylist, and creative writer. Everyone always told me I was too sensitive for "Hard-core jobs" and that I would never be anything special. I grew up around social workers. CPS was always at my door, during meetings at school, and in court. With divorced parents, it's common to go through that. They taught me everything I don't want people to go through. I don't want to see children with CPS constantly at their door because people are worried they're not safe. I need to help them. I had more social workers in my life than I had friends when I was in Elementary School. In the third grade, I met my friend, who inspired me to become a social worker. I grew up in a house that fed me, bought me clothes, and sent me to school. He would sit by me in the same outfit every day for weeks. At lunch, he ate his food and helped finish mine. He became my best friend. He would tell me what it was like at his house and the people he lived with, but I never understood. He didn't live with his parents or his family. The people he lived with; were strangers. That's when I learned about the foster system. I realized then I would do everything I could when I grew up to help kids not be forced into this situation. To live in a house where they weren't anything more than a burden. I want to become a social worker because I don't want to live in a world where children are treated as if they're nothing special. I want to help them. I want to help them find a home where they are loved and they're treated how they should be. Like they're important and they're a gift. Children shouldn't have to grow up in abusive, unsafe, and miserable homes. Every child deserves to be loved no matter what. I want to do that. I need to help them. My positive impact isn't worldwide. It's not something that I can change the entire world with, but it's something that will change these children's worlds. Even if I help only one kid, or ten, maybe 100. I help change their world. I helped give them a better life, and that will mean the world to me. That will be the best impact I accomplished. Helping children live in a place where they're safe and fed, and treated how they should be. My friend changed my world. He changed my perspective and showed me that not everyone is okay. I want to help as many kids as I can.

I've read about every genre I can think of, looking for something else. I was looking for a world that I could feel a part of. I was looking for something I could connect to. When I read All the Ugly and Wonderful Things by Bryn Greenwood, she gave me a world. It was nowhere near perfect, and it wasn’t a place people would consider safe. It was a world that looked like mine. The sky was falling, things were imperfect, and it looked like me. I read this book with the idea that it was going to be another book, with another perfect world and perfect people. It wasn’t anywhere near perfect. The main character, Wavy, grew up with parents who neglected her, had no friends, and never spoke. She was given a life that no one wanted but still made the best of every situation she was put in. Her entire life, she was the little girl that was always in the way. I read about her, I looked at her, and she was me. She made me feel safe. She reminded me that even in the hard times, we look for the best in the situation. Wavy was a little girl, and the book followed her life from when she was eight years old to when she was in college. The people around her treated her as if she was an adult. Eight years old, and they expected her to clean the house, cook all the meals, and take care of her little brother. I was always told when I was little, “Parents have lots of kids, so they can do all the work.” I was taught since I was in Elementary School how to clean the yard, take care of the dogs, and start cooking. I learned how to cook full meals by nine years old, and I was able to take care of my little brother and sisters by the time I finished 5th grade. People can look at this as a positive because I learned how to do things at a young age. I look at this as a negative. I was put in positions to teach myself how to cook, clean, and take care of my brother and sisters before I even learned how to do 2-step math equations. I was put in positions as a 10-year-old to take care of my sisters and teach them how to do things. I taught them how to use a tampon and a pad, I taught them how to brush their hair, and I taught them to lock the doors at night because the neighborhood is scary at night. I was there. I’m always there.