My goal is to develop a legacy and build a successful career with an emphasis on positively impacting others via communication, creativity, and leadership. I want my legacy to be associated with both my success as an individual professionally as well as my efforts to help create a sense of community by helping others feel seen, educated, and inspired. To me, creating a true legacy comes from how you impact people's lives by creating an understanding of who you are and what you represent, and I hope to utilize my skills to create self-confidence, opportunities, and connectedness in my community. As a Mass Communications and Journalism major, I plan to one day establish a media communication company that will promote and celebrate storytelling, provide digital content creation opportunities for local businesses and creators, and give a voice to those who are traditionally underrepresented. The media plays a significant role in shaping our society today, and I want to utilise the power of media to create powerful, meaningful, authentic, and positive content instead of false or damaging material. Whether through journalism, social media, video, or branding, I want my work to connect people and help them to feel a part of an inclusive community. My goal is that my future business will be a place where young people can feel safe and confident enough to express themselves in a creative way. Creative individuals will have many ideas, talents, and stories; however, there are often barriers (such as fear, lack of support, etc.) blocking many of these individuals from sharing their creative works with the world. By creating opportunities for individuals to grow as artists, collaborate with each other and develop their skills through hands-on experiences in media and communication, I hope to make a difference in the lives of many creative individuals. Mentoring and supporting creative individuals will allow me to create lasting change beyond my own success. My light shines through my creative abilities, my determination, and the connections I make with others. My intention is to create an atmosphere of positive energy in the spaces I enter, as well as to encourage others to have belief in themselves. I also shine my light by being open-minded, supportive, and always willing to assist anyone I can. I hope to encourage others through my use of communication and storytelling, to create greater awareness of significant issues in society and to create works that will positively affect the community I live in, as well as future generations.

At exactly 2:13 every afternoon, the left elevator in the Marlowe Apartments skipped the seventh floor. It didn’t malfunction. It skipped. The digital number panel would flash 6, then immediately show 8, as if Floor 7 had briefly stopped existing. Most tenants hardly noticed. The building had fourteen floors, plumbing issues, and a raccoon problem in the laundry room. An elevator with a faulty memory was not a big concern. Except for Arthur Bloom. Arthur was seventy-one years old, recently retired, and very annoyed by faulty machines. “It knows,” he muttered one Tuesday while standing in the elevator with a bag of groceries. “It absolutely knows.” “Knows what?” asked Lina from 9B. “That I pressed seven.” “You live on eight.” “That’s not the point.” The doors closed. 6. Then 8. Arthur pointed at the glowing number panel. “See?” Lina shrugged. “Maybe it hates seven.” Arthur spent the next week investigating. He rode the elevator forty-three times. He took notes. Morning: skips seven. Evening: skips seven. Rainy weather: skips seven confidently. He questioned tenants like a detective interviewing witnesses. “Have you noticed anything strange?” “It’s an elevator, Arthur.” “Exactly.” Soon, the entire building became oddly interested. People gathered in the lobby, waiting to see if the elevator would do it again. Residents who had never talked before now debated theories next to the mailboxes. “Maybe seven isn’t structurally sound.” “My cousin says elevators can become haunted.” “That’s microwaves.” One afternoon, Arthur finally met the only resident living on Floor 7: a woman named Celeste. “I’ve lived here eleven years,” she said calmly. “The elevator has never stopped for me.” Arthur blinked. “What do you mean never?” “I always take the stairs.” “That’s insane.” “So is spending your retirement fighting an elevator.” Fair point. Still, Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about it. That night, unable to sleep, he went downstairs in his slippers and rode the elevator alone. 6. Pause. The lights flickered. Then, for the first time ever— 7. The doors slid open. The hallway outside looked normal except for one thing: It was completely empty. No doors. No lights. No apartments. Just a long stretch of carpet fading into darkness. Arthur stared. The elevator dinged impatiently behind him. Then a tiny voice somewhere in the dark whispered: “Finally.” Arthur hit the CLOSE DOOR button so hard that he nearly injured a finger. The elevator shot upward. 8. 9. 10. Arthur stumbled out onto the roof, gasping for air. The next morning, he told everyone in the lobby what he had seen. Nobody believed him. “Arthur,” Lina said gently, “you ate expired yogurt last week.” “It wasn’t expired, it was ambitious.” But something changed after that night. The elevator no longer skipped Floor 7. Now, every single day at exactly 2:13 p.m., it paused there for ten full seconds. Waiting. No one ever got on. No one ever got off. But sometimes, if the building was quiet enough, tenants swore they could hear soft footsteps pacing the empty hallway beyond the doors.

In my opinion, as a Mass Communication and Journalism major, I want to see how I will be able to do good for my community through providing information on various topics, creating connectivity among individuals and/or groups, and creating an advocacy platform where there is not all of these things. I am a strong believer that communication is one of the strongest forms of influence that exist within our society today. Yes, journalism can encompass all of these things, but most importantly journalism helps provide individuals with the ability to speak up and make themselves heard by giving them the chance to know how their words can affect others and help communities stay informed on current local events. Through the development and enhancement of my skills learned throughout my pursuit of receiving my education in Mass Communication and Journalism, I aim to use those skills to generate impactful content for my community that leads to positive changes to my local community in an uplifting manner. I would like to focus my attention on providing coverage for issues that personally affect individuals, especially young adults from underserved populations. A great number of people are having difficulty finding adequate information regarding the various issues that affect our everyday lives. Some of these topics may include education, mental health resources, financial assistance resources, job placement opportunities, and continued access to community resources available to them. As a result, I plan to utilize the communication and media-related skill sets I will acquire in order to provide an opportunity for individuals and/or groups to (1) receive clear, relatable, and easily identifiable content, (2) have access to additional educational opportunities and support systems available to them through the use of journalism and related media. My intention behind my use of storytelling in a broadcast journalistic medium is to establish visibility for ordinarily voiceless individuals. Through the media, perceptions of a community's members are influenced to a major extent, and far too many times, a segment of the population is misrepresented or not represented at all, especially minority groups or individuals in the nonprofit sector. I plan to utilize print/online media, TV and radio to relate the true and accurate stories of real events that have taken place to bring people together who tend to have many of the same types of stories about experiences in their respective communities. I believe the power of true storytelling inspires understanding and creates compassion which encourages the advancement of society through progress. In addition, as I try to create a sense of place, I hope to influence future generations of young people who aspire to work in communication/media or journalism but lack the confidence to pursue a career in these fields. I want to motivate others to develop their own unique forms of expression through writing or taking creative photographs and imagining capabilities that they did not previously believe were possible. I believe that creating an environment whereby creative expression inspires courageous sharing by others is an extremely influential way to empower. Ultimately, I want to use my degree not only for my own career success but to impact the lives of others. I want to inform, uplift unrepresented populations, and create awareness in my community through journalism as a means of enhancing knowledge and connecting with and/or positively affecting others.

Sunlight poured over the stroller, warming the small blanket around the baby. Lila held it tightly as she pushed down the sidewalk, groceries stacked in the basket below. Each step felt heavy and deliberate, as if she was carrying more than just the infant. Her classes seemed distant now, with textbooks gathering dust on the shelf. She shifted the baby in her arms and looked up past a woman rushing toward a café. The woman wore a sharp blazer, and her heels clicked against the pavement. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and she held papers under one arm. Lila blinked. There was something in the woman’s eyes—determination? Familiarity? But the street separated them, and the moment faded away. The other Lila walked through the glass doors of the office she had dreamed about for years, a badge clipped neatly to her blazer. She took a deep breath, straightened her blazer, and watched a colleague wheel a cart of coffee past. In the reflection, she saw a mother with a stroller, moving slowly and focused. Their eyes met briefly in the mirrored glass, sparking a sense of recognition that she couldn’t quite place. Then it disappeared as they moved in their own worlds. One carried responsibility that shaped every second of her day, while the other carried ambition, deadlines, and the thrilling taste of independence. Back in the apartment, the first Lila sang softly to the baby, her lullabies clashing with her ringing phone. A notification for a missed lecture blinked on her cracked screen, but she left it alone. Her life felt full, overwhelming, beautiful, and exhausting. She rocked the stroller, thinking about a future she never asked for but had to navigate. She imagined tiny hands in hers during each heartbreak and joy. Meanwhile, the other Lila typed quickly at her computer, crafting a presentation that could help her land the promotion she had pursued for years. Her apartment smelled faintly of takeout. The walls were lined with motivational posters and unopened novels. She paused at the window, looking down at the street, and spotted the mother again, pushing the stroller, focused and alive to a different rhythm. She shook her head, laughing softly at how strange it was to feel both envy and admiration at the same time. Then she sat on the edge of the bathroom, legs pressed together, laughing nervously. Her friend leaned against the doorframe, holding the test. Lila flipped it over. Negative. A wave of relief washed over her, lifting the weight of possibility. The parallel lives of the two Lilas she’d glimpsed, each full of consequences, sacrifices, and choices, collapsed back into a single reality. She would live her life on her own terms, her dreams secure, her freedom hers alone. Her friend grinned. “Well,” she said, nudging Lila, “looks like the universe gave you the choice.” Lila exhaled, closed her eyes, and let out a small laugh. Choice, freedom, control. In that moment, she understood everything she needed to: life was complicated, but her path was her own.

The day I lost my brother Jaden was the day the world felt like it stopped spinning. Being the only girl among three brothers, Jaden had always been my protector, my guide, and my constant source of support. He was the backbone of our family, the one who kept us steady when life felt chaotic, and the one who celebrated my victories, big or small, as if they were his own. Losing him to gun violence left a hole that no one could fill, and for months, I didn’t know how to breathe, how to function, or how to even make sense of the world. In the immediate aftermath, I dissociated, feeling as though I was floating above my own life, watching it continue without him. Denial hit first how could this be real? I remember staring at his empty room, feeling the weight of his absence in every corner of our home. Sadness followed closely behind, a heavy, constant ache that made even basic tasks feel impossible. I was lost, unsure of who I was without him, and overwhelmed by the reality of my grief. It was in therapy, months after his passing, that I first learned about journaling as a tool to navigate my emotions. My therapist encouraged me to write daily not just about what I was feeling, but about the memories, regrets, and love that I carried for Jaden. At first, it felt strange, almost forced, but over time it became a lifeline. I could pour out my sadness, anger, and longing onto paper, giving form to emotions I had nowhere else to release. Journaling helped me reflect on the moments I shared with Jaden, on his encouragement, and on the dreams he had for me. It allowed me to process grief in a way that felt safe and personal. Later, I discovered meditation through a campus program at Towson University. Meditation taught me to sit with my thoughts, to breathe through the pain, and to reconnect with myself. It helped me recognize that my grief did not define me, that I could honor Jaden’s memory without being consumed by sadness. These practices became more than routines they became tools that helped me heal, rebuild my sense of self, and regain clarity in my life. I want to continue my education because it is part of the promise I made to Jaden in my heart: to strive for excellence, to pursue my goals, and to honor his belief in me. He was always my biggest cheerleader, pushing me to focus on school and reminding me that I was capable of more than I knew. Though he never witnessed my high school graduation or the start of my college journey, I carry his encouragement with me every day. The biggest influences in my life are Jaden and my family. Their love, guidance, and resilience have shown me that even in tragedy, strength can emerge. My family has been my foundation, teaching me that connection, support, and perseverance are essential to navigating life’s challenges. Through grief, therapy, journaling, and meditation, I have learned that healing is possible, that I am resilient, and that honoring those we have lost means living fully and purposefully. Jaden’s absence will always be felt, but his influence continues to guide me. Each step I take toward my education, each moment I center myself through meditation or reflection, I do with him in mind. He shaped me, inspired me, and gave me the tools to carry on and I will continue to honor his memory every day.