When I was twelve years old I was hospitalized for two months. I wasn't allowed to see my family accept during visiting hours. I wasn't allowed any devices. I couldn't go to school. I couldn't play the sports that I loved; I couldn't even walk around. I was so anxious that I could hardly talk. But there was one thing that I could do... create art. Art is the universal language. One doesn't have to speak or even know what they want to say to do it. It is a way for us to share ideas without ever opening our mouths. We can be bedridden, mute, even blind, and still participate in this extraordinary way of expression. For a person who is healthy, art is amazing. For a person who is sick (physically or mentally), art is life saving. When you are sick, it can feel like nothing is worth it. You might feel like a liability to your family or you might find yourself completely and utterly alone. You might spend all your money on medical bills. You might be working so hard to take care of your family, that you ignore you pain until it seems to late to fix it. When you are sick, everything seems pointless. But even with all of that awful, you can still make art. If you take away someone's paints, they will find a pencil. If you take their pencils, they will start collaging. If you take their glue away, they will fold beautiful origami creatures. You take their paper, and the will style their clothing in a new, artistic way. You take away their clothes, their homes, their everything, and they will still make a beautiful drawings with their figure and the dirt on the floor. I want to grow up, and share this universal language. I want to communicate visually, and teach others to communicate without speaking too. I want to be a graphic designer or illustrator of children's' books, so that I can spread information to those who need it. I want to make it so that every person, regardless of ability, race, class, body, sexuality, or gender knows that their voice can be loud through art, and no one can change their words or their opinions unless they want them too. Because that is what art is... it's a voice. And as long as you are brave enough to use it, no one can take it away.

When I was twelve years old my world was turned upside down. Not only was I diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, but I was thrown in a mental hospital, in a different state from my home, for two months. After leaving the hospital I was diagnosed with PTSD. These experiences changed my reality forever. I was no longer the happy little kid from a warm family, but a weirdo who would start crying at the mention of a doctor. My day time was haunted with memories and my night was full of nightmares. For most kids, this is the end... it doesn't get better. I refused to believe that. At age thirteen, I started a blog that talked about mental health. I provided not just relatable stories, but tips so that other people could recover. It was like a journal, that always ended on a positive note. As time went on, I, like my readers, began to take my advice. I always ended my real life thoughts with hope, just like I did in my blog posts. Writing for other people, and giving them hope, helped give me the strength I needed to always keep a growth mindset, and find the silver lining.