I don't know what happened that day that made me feel like Psychology was the one, the path that felt so right, the one I should pursue. It felt like my calling, like a ding going off in my head. I mused all the time how it would sound, "Dr. Martinez" or "Dr. Evelyn Martinez" and I couldn't get over it. We all learn from a young age that doctors help those who are suffering, those who are in need those who need a helping hand but then why do so many people stray from talking about mental health as they do with fatal or lethal injuries? That is why I aspire to be a psychiatrist, one who will help one who will take that stigma off and most importantly the one who will heal the wound. The wound of feeling different and like you're never going to belong. The wound of feeling alone and misunderstood. I will share that burden and help others let go of their trauma, fear, and insecurity and flourish into feeling here. Of feeling present of feeling known of being alive. While I knew that Psychology would be my primary focus along with science courses to pave my way toward medical school to accomplish the task of being a psychiatrist I began to wonder again. Would I be working for someone else's practice or should I begin fresh and start my own? Both sides had their advantages and disadvantages but at the same time, I wanted to try. I wanted to try to make my practice and see where it would lead me and so my life as a double major in Business as well as Psychology began. Sure, sometimes the road will be tough but in the end, I find that the struggle would have been worth it. It would be worth seeing people feel present and seeing them feel safe with me. This is why I decided to make my practice present in the rural side of where I live. I currently reside and go to school in Omaha, Nebraska the place I moved to when I was 4 from Santa Ana, California. After spending so much of my life here, I don't see where else I would go besides Nebraska. After going on vacation to places like Calfornia, Kansas, Illinois and Missouri I always find myself drawn back to Omaha. I just feel like I'm not cut out for the big city life and would rather live my life in the peaceful hum of fireflies and chilly winters here. Probably not in Omaha though sadly mostly because I am trying to get rid of the stigma of mental health that people place on them and I find that these problems are mostly present in the little towns. I just find that people who have been placed in smaller cities have their own lives different from the one I got used to and as such they find that ostracizing the different is good when in reality they just hurt their own. This is why I dream of residing in Kearney so I can have an equal amount of driving time to all the little cities like O'Neil, Cozad, Valentine and so many more and put buildings for my practice scattered all over Nebraska. My name is Evelyn Martinez, a sophomore Business and Psychology major with a minor in Spanish (so I can be professionally bilingual), with a dream of putting my psychiatry practice into the cities that deserve just as much love and help from the big cities.

The first time I tried the taste of beer, I was young, around 7 years old I assume. My family and I were at a small birthday party. I don't remember who the birthday girl or boy was, all I know is that my uncles and parents alike were urging and pressuring me to take a sip of something out of a tin can. My older siblings were hiding their smiles behind their cups of pop and since I felt so brave I take a sip. I have had many regrets in my life but just recalling this memory makes me vividly imagine the vile liquid sliding down my throat again, smelling so much of something I now associate with despair and trauma. You see, my father was an alcoholic before I was born. My mother always retells the story of how whenever my siblings and I were due to come into the world, my father was not there once to be at her side to encourage her to give birth to us. He was instead usually drunk as a skunk with strangers who have been donned friends in his mind, all because they shared the same trait of drinking up to a minimum of 3 cans of beer every day. Looking back at everything I've been scared of, alcohol has always been something that I felt the most threatened by. You cannot be scared of sharks if you are never going to set foot in the ocean. You cannot be scared of space if you don't feel like ever being an astronaut. However, you can fear alcohol and everything it does to people if you've not only had first-hand experience with what might become of a person but also know for a fact that it's incredibly accessible everywhere around the globe. I was fortunate enough to know that my dad never physically abused me or anyone else in my family. Mentally though is another story together. My dad has made everyone cry at least once because of the words that came out of his mouth. For me, it was the "I don't love you" and "You're not even my real daughter" that came out of his mouth when I was still younger than a teen. Alcohol is poison, and my dad was a victim without an antidote. That fateful day almost three years ago this May, my dad was admitted to the hospital due to alcohol poisoning. He was told that he would only have 5 years left to live if he did not get a liver transplant. Thankfully, he was given a transplant a year after the news was broken to him and is now as healthy as a tree. He has not touched alcohol, the fear constricting him to stay away because of what happened last time and is trying to become a better father for all of us. Forgiveness is not something that I can hand out for free. It is earned when I deem whatever I am trying to forgive worthy of forgiveness from me. It is hard to deny my father that forgiveness when alcohol was like a siren and him a poor sailor getting eaten alive from the inside out. We have been trying to make new memories with one another, and new stories to share and it's been working so far. I am thankful for God and what he has done and am now religious along with the rest of my family. I aspire to be a psychiatrist, to help others get out of bad coping habits and make them feel alive.

I learned a fact, a lesson when I was very young. Not all men are created equal. This is something that while I hadn't grasped the meaning of as a girl I grew to understand as I became a woman. This statement is very literal in what it's supposed to portray and define. Growing up, I never understood why we had to drive to huge buildings to get free food or toys or why my siblings and I had to share so much growing up whether that be a bed, a book or even a dollar. As I look back on how much we had to sacrifice for one another I realize that we were poor. We were so unwealthy that we had to look for help to help with not only our needs but also my parent's. This may be the reason why I am so willing to share what I own with those around me and why I want to pursue my education for longer than an undergraduate to conform to a career that will let me be rich and thus help out others in need and not just my family. When I first learned about what volunteering was, I was at the tender age of 12 and honestly didn't know why I was standing next to my dad wearing an apron and gloves. However, I do remember serving food to faces I don't recall and yet simultaneously I do. I remember seeing smiles light up on faces that seem so blurry yet so clear and feeling content that what I was doing was making them grateful towards me the same way I was grateful for them. Grateful for them because they taught me what I wanted to do with my life. Find a career path that would help those less fortunate. This is why fast forward more than half a decade later, I am still doing volunteer work. It's nice being able to be the change that makes a difference in someone's life. I feel like me, it gives me purpose and meaning that is so indescribable that I can't find it anywhere else. This is why I try to involve myself in as many volunteering opportunities as I can both inside my school and outside in the community surrounding me. I am the Treasurer of a club known as DUO which stands for Do Unto Others and it's quite literally just a club where we go on many volunteering escapades to help others. I am also one of the Chairmen on my church's committee to help plan events to help those in need as well as simultaneously raising money for the church's catholic school. This freshman year of my college life has been rough, with multitasking on a sport and managing clubs as well as going through personal matters such as helping out with taking care of my father since he just had a liver transplant and keeping an eye on my niece since she just had her surgery on her stomach since she hadn't been digesting enough nutrients. It's been hard yet I stand to keep trying to make that difference not only in the community but also in the city no matter how minuscule it may seem to others and paving my way toward a career that will let me help others.

"Remember just because the stars fell doesn't mean they weren't worth wishing upon." I Fell in Love with Hope by Lancali has only been out for a few months and it is already seen as a highly controversial read due to many reasons that I would say don't hold up with the facts. This is a book about teenagers who have spent most of their lives in the hospital due to diseases they suffer from. Sam, our main character is an androgynous being who has spent their life in the hospital and wishes to someday break free of the chains connecting them to the hospital however trauma associated with what's lurking outside nearby makes them stationary, captive inside a place considered home. Sony, a fiery spirit of optimism is a girl who suffers from only having one lung and thus cannot live out their days in freedom as she longs. Neo, their group's brain not only suffers from an eating disorder but also a bad spine, leaving him restless in a wheelchair against his dad's abuse. Coeur, the group's heart and soul has a failing heart and thus is unable to continue in sports which his parents dream of him doing again. Then along came Hikari, the girl with hair as bright as the sun fitting for her optimism to leave the hospital comes along and break their streak of accepting their fate. They plan one final heist to gain the freedom they've yearned for, after all, "Time will cease. Disease will fester. Death will die." There is much controversy surrounding this book, mostly for the main themes it was supposed to tackle that many argue missed their point. For one many claim that the author didn't explore mental illnesses as much as she was supposed to however it became apparent throughout the read that not only was Hikari suffering from it but also every other character in their way which I feel the author deserves credit for since some of the lines must have been hard to write. Speaking of lines, many also claim that her way of writing was too poetic and repetitive however she has stated many times that it was on purpose and not due to bad writing which many people still believe. It was to show that it is what most people with mental illnesses fixate on. This book isn't perfect, but it gives lessons.

The red stains on your hands won't fade, You try to rub it anywhere where the white still shines through, However, everything you have been through has made the black seep through and cascade. You try to speak up on the matter but your sinking underwater, the air you breathe becomes nothing but bubbles of hate and agony, the dreams you once imagined slaughtered. Fight it off with all your might, Warning that it will never dissolve, As you try to grab ahold of any trickle of light. Put on the persona of a content person living the life you always dreamed of, Playing the part of a puppet with strings, As you hollowly follow orders and wonder what life is like up above. The world you live in is unlike others you are often told, You are to be a prime example of perfection at its finest, So you play the part of someone you are not and wonder when your real story will be foretold. The agony you go through to be someone else is normal, The many trials and errors you overcome are valid, As you stay a part of the stage set and mournful. You wonder when you are going to be rescued, Decide to take matters into your own hands, Becoming a part of the depressed youth. Now you live your life and wonder, How many days will go by before your departure, And hope the day arrives when you go down under.

Push the blade into supple skin somewhere where it isn't obvious. Inner arms, elbows shoulders, or even hips work as long as you can cover them up. Wash the blade before someone begins to suspect you are taking too long in the bathroom and leave. Hide the blade somewhere they'll never suspect and continue with your day wearing a mask. Repeat every couple of days. Ignore the voice in the back of your head saying that you should not be doing this. Ignore the voice in the forefront of your mind telling you to push deeper. Make shallow cuts and repeat until satisfied. Tune out the world and listen to the static you feel and let your mind drift in the storm-filled clouds of your consciousness. Let yourself feel free as the blood seeps out of your pores. Write down every single thing that you ate for the day and calculate the calories per each item. Add the numbers up and make sure to throw it all back up in the bathroom when the numbers are too high. Ignore the growls your stomach lets out and continue to convince yourself you are not hungry. Chug water down your throat and pretend it's a solid. Watch you slowly become skinny and feel accomplished with how your body looks like. Ignore the voice telling you that you are all bone and ignore the voice telling you that you are still too fat. Cover your ears and close your eyes to pretend that the way you are living isn't slowly going to kill you. As I look back at what I used to do when I was still in my adolescence, I can't help but wonder what was going through that child's head. Who was I trying to impress? What made me go through with wanting to hurt myself? Who ruined this child's life and obscured their world with a black void? I muse this all the time because wethere I like it or not the past can't change. What I survived wasn't just my actions but also others. Someone pushed me to the point of wanting to make myself bleed. Someone pushed myself to starve knowing how self concious of my body I already was. I could just never put a name on the person and so I blamed myself. Now I know better. The person to blame for my tendancies was none other than ego. Ego is a cruel thing. He consumes and harbors a body all the time of an unsuspecting soul. He clings onto them like a leech and refuses to ever let go. He either brings down a person and walks all over them or he brings them up and makes them feel superior to everyone else in the world. I was unfortunate enough to surround myself with people who reached the skies while I stayed on the ground. I felt so little compared to them, their self confidence wasn't always on the verge of crumbling away like mine. So in return the harsh words sometimes directed at me would break away the glass cage I had around my heart and left me bare and exposed to their peering Ego's. Thus the deterioration of a girl named Evelyn Martinez commenced. I didn't think it would affect me that much but apparently it did. I slowly started to believe the lies told to my face and in turn their Ego's would inflate and mine would get even lower than the day before, like a balloon running out of air. The hate kept spreading and I kept crumbling until it became too much and my Ego couldn't last any longer. I was now a mass of flesh and bones, nothing more and nothing less. Exactly what everyone told me I was in their lives. So I decided to take a chance to bring myself reprive out of my misery. I decided to cause myself pain in two diffrent ways: starvation and cutting. It worked for a while, I was able to convince myself multiple times that I deserved the pain and suffering I would endure throughout the days by my own choosing. One day I got caught by my family and the days spent trying to push myself to the edge of being with the Grim Reaper stopped. I was forecefully taken to a therapist and I was no longer able to be left alone. Both of these changes in my life saved me. At the therapist's office I learned to heal and slowly love myself again, one broken fragement at a time. As the sessions passed by and we grew close we both started to open up more to one another. Overtime my mental health had become stable enough where I would only have to see her once a month and then hopefully once every couple months which is where I'm at in the present time. She inspired me to pursue a career in psychology and either become a therapist or psychiatrsit and for that I am forever grateful. She inspired me to help people become more confident in themselves and their abilities and remind them that they're not alone. I wouldn't be the person I am today without her influence in my life. This tragedy that occured in my life helped me learn tthat being apart of the supposed cool kids is never a trend that you should follow. A little while after my first session at the therapist I not only cut out the people in my life who I once considered friends for pushing me to my breaking p[oint but I also reported them to the counselor and in turn they all had to transfer. It helped me learn that having few close knit relationships is better than having hundreds but distant. The troubles associated with my depression and anorexia were hard to get out of. However I can proudly say that I am a survivor of these pits I feel into as a child.

Relapse. Defined as when you go back to deteriorating after a period of improvement. That’s what happened to me these past couple of days. I used to cut myself, finding solace in the pain I brought onto myself with my own two hands. The same hands that touched and spread the blood rushing down my arm a few days ago. I blearily turned my head to watch the red liquid cascade down my forearm, staining my skin with the bright color. I ignored the pounding on the door, feeling blissfully aware that I was being looked for when I was at my lowest. I closed my eyes to stop the black dots from obscuring my vision and wondered how I let it go this far. When I first picked up the pair of scissors a few days ago, I hoped not to return to that empty feeling I felt all those years ago when I first started. When I had first learned that my grandparents would never see daylight ever again. When I realized I would never meet the people that shaped my father into the person he is today. Now the situation is similar and yet so different. I had found out that my dad had tried to return to alcohol. The thing that nearly took his life and I cracked. The time I spent trying to get better rewound and in turn I felt empty all over again, the feeling had returned. My self hatred crept back into its old home, and I was once again a hostage in my own body. Then I remembered why I am at college and tried to keep these emotions under bay. You see I have the tendency to take my anger out on those around me but I didn’t want to hurt my precious friends. Not the friends who quite literally broke down my dorm door and wrapped my arms in bandages, slowly healing my heart with their soft spoken word filled with patience and love. Obscuring their worry in favor of helping me escape the grasp of my dark thoughts. The road to recovery is long. I’ve known this fact since I was a young sprout of life. Yet I know that with the people I surround myself with, one day i’ll be okay again. For now i’ll keep moving onto the goal that i’ve planned since I decided on what I want to be when I grow up. I used to see a therapist as a child, becuase my emotions were too strong and my body was left scarred. My therapist helped me get better emotionally and mentally and in return I’m hoping to pursue a career similar to hers. I want to pursue a career in child psychiatry, where I hope to help kids understand that they’re not alone or broken like she taught me. I hope to get rid of the stigma on mental illnesses and help children learn that they’re no different from everyone else in the world. My road to recovery might be double the amount of time it toke me to get over the depression I feel into when I was little. But that’s okay, I have people surrounding me to help me back up on my feet and I feel like that’s something everyone needs in their life. A person to lean on in their time of need. So while my road to becoming a psychiatrist is long, I have full faith that the people I surround myself with with help me reach this lifetime goal of mine.

I’m not an overly religious person in any way, shape or form. I didn’t like having to wake up on Sundays early just so I could sit in a stifling bench at a building I didn’t care for. That’s how my personal view used to be. My big reason for wanting to help my community church is for one reason, I wanted to give back to them . I used to be an incredibly depressed person which was especially true when I was in middle school. I used to cut myself because I hated myself in every form and so I saw a therapist regularly. The reason I wanted to help back though is the fact that after my sessions ended I was always dragged to church. After going to church for months though it began becoming a tradition between only my parents and me. When they announced though that they were in need of money in order to keep their church running I immediately signed myself up to help them with donations and thus my community service began. I spent time with a committee built up of volunteers every week for at least an hour or two. We spend this time brainstorming ideas on how to build up money for church and we decided to host an amusement park . The event was an immediate success and we built up enough money for them. I felt especially good for this deed because they did so much for me and I was finally able to help them back. I have always desired a career where I can help people, and my own transformative experience inspired me to become a psychiatrist and philanthropist. I hope to follow in my old therapists footsteps and help patients get better with dealing with their own mental health. I also hope to make them feel welcome in their own skin and to learn the fact that they don’t have to be perfect, as long as they’re trying their best in life. I also want to give back in the future and inspire others within my community to seek higher education. This is why I’m hoping that once I become a licensed psychiatrist I can start donating money to those that need it wether that be homeless shelters, charities or even those in debt. I want a new age where people can be kind and not take it for granted and I have to give money to make this dream happen then so be it, As a first-generation college student, my parents have always desired that my siblings and I would one day go to college, and I hope to use my Latina background to inspire other aspiring Latina psychiatrists. Not only that but I also wish to inspire other people from different backgrounds and cultures to follow their dreams because I think that’s vital, encouraging others to succeed is a blessing that I hope everyone utilizes. While I know that being a psychiatrist will require a medical degree and my undergraduate degree won’t be my final educational destination, I aspire to make my dream come true in becoming this career, even if the road that lies ahead of me will be long and tedious I’m up for the challenge.

I felt the blood rushing down my arm. I blearily turned my head to watch the red liquid cascade down my forearm, staining my skin. I ignored the pounding on the door, feeling blissfully aware that I was being looked for when I was at my lowest. I closed my eyes to stop the black dots from obscuring my vision and wondered how I let it go this far. When I first picked up the pair of scissors that day, I couldn’t image telling that innocent little girl I once was that we would fine solace in making ourselves feel pain, yet the days went by and the scissors were the proof that I was still living leaving long lines on my arms. It left scars all over ranging from horizontal to vertical to sideways, it didn’t matter where they were as long as they were easy to cover with either long sleeved shirts or makeup. I felt so out of control in my own life, like I never got a say in the choices I made but the pain helped. It was my own pain that I caused myself. Not the pain that I was feeling back in those days from everything wether that be ruined friendships or harsh words or even cruel teachers. I hated myself, everything that I ever did wasn’t good enough. I was always compared to my older sister who was shaping her life. My older sister who had already had a job back in those days while I was still learning my own identity. In those days when I was still deciding on a career path. I pushed onward though but after that day when my little cousin ended up in the hospital I couldn’t continue and now here we are. With me slowly letting the pain numb my feelings hoping to never wake up. I don’t recall what happened after, probably because I blacked out but I woke up with my arm bandaged and wrapped in a blanket in the coach. My family tried to interrogate me the second I woke up but I tuned out their worries and held my mouth shut and my eyes with unused tears. I didn’t want to talk about how I felt to them. After all, they were also to blame pushing such high expectations on such a young bud of life. They stopped asking but they did take me to a therapist and this is where I would consider my story to begin. Not in those days filled with self hatred but these days where I started to feel alive again. These days where I felt understood by the kind heart of a stranger. These days where I felt safe, where my heart could heal again. She helped me get better and overtime my sessions were to practically nonexistent. Flash forward a couple years later and I’m now a college student, a place I never thought I would be never mind still be alive to witness. I still have troublesome days but when that happens I learned to let myself take a break and enjoy the little things. She helped me get better and in return I’m hoping to pursue a career similar to hers. I want to pursue a career in child psychiatry, where I hope to help kids understand that they’re not alone or broken like she taught me. I hope to get rid of the stigma on mental illnesses and help children learn that they’re no different from everyone else in the world. By taking life one step at a time.

I tiptoed around the corner of the bathroom to try to avoid the living room. I was maybe six or seven when this event transpired. I just wanted a glass of water to quench my thirst. However I stepped on a pen that was laid on the ground and the cold material startled me and voluntarily let out a little yelp and that’s all it toke. Suddenly my left wrist was enveloped by a big, muscular hand and pulled upwards that my shoulder felt like it would dislocated. A voice yelled out towards me but my body dissociated, I couldn’t move or speak. I just felt so vulnerable in front of the man’s whose breath smelt like years of alcohol abuse and my vision swayed as I noticed the bottle in his hand. The next thing I knew I was pulled by another hand, one that remained delicate despite years of working and felt like home. Safety. I knew better than to be up this late at night. That’s when he becomes his worst. I bit my lip as I heard every word thrown out of his mouth headed towards me or hurt me in ways I’ve never felt before. The world ‘adopted’, ‘mistake’’ugly’ and ‘stupid’ blurred other until all I could make out from his words was hate. That’s okay though, he wouldn’t remember what just transpired the next day. I willed my tears away and toke the cold words until his voice faded away and my mothers touch left until I was just stand there alone. Like always. Years later and the years and years of alcohol abuse would have caught up to my father. He would be put into the hospital after a heart attack and be told that he had a total of five year left to live. My heart still always feels guilty knowing that I wished he would have just disappeared from my life. There wouldn’t have been a diffrent anyways, he was never a constant in my life. However I am also grateful for him not passing away those two years ago when these events came and went. When we got the new of his time of Earth dwindled to very small. Practically nonexistent. When we got the news that he was to be put on the transplant list to get a chance to live. To survive. When we got a call late in the wee hours of a December morning, confirming that a liver was up for grabs but the surgery had to happen that very moment. That day is still blurry in my eyes, there was practically zero chance that he would have survived so what was the point of even trying? However my father was like always, a survivor. When we found out that my father was fine, that it worked when others were less fortunate. My fathers continued time on Earth might not have been that important to me back then but now, as a freshman in college it really is. We’ve grown closer since those years spent in uncomfortable silence when I was a child. When those words would eat me alive but I had to play it off with a smile. Now I feel comfortable enough around my father to talk about anything that bugs me. Like it should’ve been. He taught me the importance of never drinking my life away. Of surviving but not living. I hope that I’m teaching this lesson to anyone around me nearing the age of wanting to touch a drop of alcohol. I want everyone to learn that actions have consequences.

People used to die in plentiful numbers until the scientific discovery of antibiotics came into play. Antibiotics has revolutionized medicine in the twentieth century, and together with vaccinations, have almost completely eradicated many once-common diseases such as tuberculosis. This is a big win for not only medicine but also the general lifespan of a human. People have been dying at incredibly young ages since the beginning of humanity but now that this problem has been resolved, people can now live up to the age of 75. While the use of mold to treat infections was first noted by ancient civilizations such as the Egyptians and the Greeks, it was Sir Alexander Fleming who discovered the first antibiotic substance, Penicillin G. Penicillin originates from a mold of the same name, penicillin mold. For the millions of lives that antibiotics have, and continue to, save worldwide, antibiotics have to be in the scientific top five. It changed everyone’s lives for the better.

Being looked up to is something I wanted for people to have as an impression of myself, ever since I was an adolescent. I know that I’m by no means perfect and can make many mistakes compared to others but nobody is perfect, especially this day and age. When I grow up I want to be a highly respected child psychiatrist. I know compared to other people my career goals aren’t that impressive but this is something I’ve always wanted to be, even when everyone else was confused on what career they wanted to study in my mind this was already set in stone. There are many different obstacles that I have to go through first though before I can have the successful career I’ve longed for since I was child. First I had to graduate high school which is a dream that came true a couple months ago and is still a big accomplishment. Then I’ll attend a college that prepares me for medical school and offered the major of Psychology and minor in Spanish so I can not only gain the knowledge needed to pursue my career but so I can also sharpen my Spanish speaking skills so I can be a better bilingual person and help Spanish speakers as well. The school that I ended up picking not only because they offered me a very generous scholarship but also due to the fact that the student to faculty ratio was similar to the one I had in high school was the College of Saint Mary. So far, it’s a beautiful and tight knit community of growth mindset people who are striving to become something in this world and it’s something that really helped motivate me when I feel like I can’t accomplish anything. Another perk of going to this school is since it’s a all girls school, we all feel more empowered as women to do whatever we want without being worried about people trying to harass us both physically and mentally. During college I’ll also be highly involved in extracurriculars and community work so that I can have enough qualifications to attend any graduate school of my choice. I have so far joined up to six clubs for my freshman year which might be pushing it for other, but for me it as a suitable amount of time to be involved with my community so far. I also was able to be apart of the prestigious Walk Tall Program which is basically an Honors Program to other colleges and universities around the United States. After college I’ll attend a medical school that has a high graduation rate and get certified. I will pursue this career for a long time not only because I feel like children mental health is highly unheard of and a foreign concept to others but also because I want to help children feel more comfortable in their own skin. While I know that the carrier I’m aiming for may be a long road, I feel like I have the grit and tenacity to pursue onwards no matter what obstacle stands in my way because I’m eager to begin my journey of helping kids feel like they're no different from everyone else in society again.

Your monochromatic eyes that hope to see color one day. Your sleek white fur that shines in the sunlight. Your beady blue eyes that light up in excitement when we go for walks. Your small pink nose that scrunches up when you smell citrus in the air. The long tongue that you use to lap up water into your body and keep your engine running on food. The small pointy ears that you use to express how you feel wether that be sad or happy. The four legs that you use to keep your body moving and pumped full of energy. The smiles you send to my face as well as the faces of my siblings and parents. The level of content you display at finally having a loving family. The cries of happiness you let out when you realized we would never hurt you. I love you so much my sweet little Luna and know that we will not let anyone hurt you in any way, shape or form. When we picked up Luna from the Nebraska Humane Society it was devastating to see her scared to come home with us. She felt like she was leaving a safe haven after living with people who found enjoyment in having her suffer. She cried the whole car ride to our house and my heart broke for her. When we arrived she tried to run away but my brother was fortunate enough to catch her beforehand even though his arms had bite mark imprints left behind as he carried her inside. She found a corner in the living room and would lay there for hours on end to make herself as small and invisible as possible. She would use the bathroom on the floor even when we offered to take her outside so she could also go for a walk. She was a baby at six months so whoever did this to her, made her feel like this, is a monster in my eyes.After a while of tiptoeing around her and gentle prodding she subconsciously started to open up. She started to shy away from that corner she had deemed her new safe haven and instead found that inside my family and I. The life that was once dead in her eyes returned and while sometimes still shaky due to not using them for a while, she was able to walk around just fine. She sometimes reserved herself again, probably scared that we were luring her into a trap but we always let her know we would never cause her any harm. It toke a while to get her used to going on daily walks and using the bathroom outside and even wandering the house outside of the living room but over time her curiosity helped her move forward in her life. She started demanding things from us wether that be hugs, walks or even just plain cuddling and we were very proud of her. She no longer feels that sense of needing to be cautious around us and is more open than ever. She’s my dog and she changed my life by just plain existing. Whenever I needed someone to rely on, she would always come to cheer me up. She would be my companion when I felt like I had no one to turn to. She was there for me when I felt like I was isolated in loneliness. Thank you my dear Luna for being the one who was my definition of a best friend for life. Thank you for being there when I couldn’t take the stress of education anymore and always tried to cheer me up. Thank you for being you. Know that I plan to grow old with you, so keep the past behind you and move forward into the future with me. I love you.

Dogs are a man’s best friend. However I think the phrase is misogynistic, the phrase should instead be a dog is a human’s best friend. Unless you are allergic to dogs or have a phobia of them, I see no reason why no one in the world would not like dogs. After all, human blood pressure goes down when petting a dog. And so does the dog’s. This means that they trigger your hormones that make you “feel good” instead of being stressed or anxious over things. The feeling of being petted has the same effect on the dogs. Did you know that there are over 75 million pet dogs in the U.S.—more than in any other country. This means that out of the 332 million populous that live in the U.S at least 40% of them have a dog that they claim as theirs. A recent study shows that dogs are among a small group of animals who show voluntary unselfish kindness towards others without any reward. This is one fact dog lovers have known all along. Imagine my luck when I begged for years to get a dog but every time I was shut down by my parents with the promise of next time. Then we moved and finally we were given the chance to get a dog. The process of getting a dog was hard, we were getting one from the Nebraska Humane Society so that the dog was already trained however the waitlist to get a dog was so long. We spent at least 3 months trying to get a different variety of dogs with no luck. It was beginning to feel hopeless until a female German Shepard that we were put on hold for was granted to us to buy and take home. I was ecstatic, it felt like all that hard work had paid off. My parents were uneasy about having such a big dog live with us however my siblings and I were able to convince them that it was worth it. The poor dog got scared easily which was expected since it was said in her profile that she came from an abusive household so we tried to limit how much we yelled and hit each other when we were play fighting as to not scare the dog. We were able to make her stop being so nervous around us and instead get used to the noise as a good sound. We also spoiled her rotten with how much we petted her and kissed her and feed her because we felt like it was our obligation to treat her like a queen. A few months passed and we were finally able to move past that stage with her and through all the tears, breakdowns and moments of pity we were able to push past the rough times and instead embraced the new her who was comfortable around us now instead of being freighted. She’s now incredibly playful and loves to bother us in every sense even if it’s just sitting down right next to us and pushing her body upwards so we can pet her. I love our beautiful Luna and I would go through all of the tough times to bring her back on her feet in a heartbeat.

Getting verbally harassed everyday isn’t fun. I feel like people are walls making fun of me because of my weight. Especially my family in general. They always say such cruel things to me such as looking like a tomato or even laugh whenever I walk down the stairs because they say I have heavy footsteps befitting of a earthquake such as myself. It isn’t fun and I always have to hold back my tears and I can never come back with something witty to say back. I just take the words appearing unwavering but knowing that in the inside my self confidence is slowly eroding away. This is why I try not to eat that much in general. I try to stick to having at least only two meals a day and to refuse seconds, scared I’ll get even fatter than I am already. Im so close to being two hundred pounds, sitting right now at a hundred and eighty something that I know is bad for a eighteen year old. I can’t hit the gym like I know I can strive to do because I don’t own a car of my own and the closest one to my house is almost an hour walk by foot and since I can’t ride a bicycle I’m basically stuck in a hard place. I sometimes go on walks to try to get rid of some weight but my brother usually tags along so I can’t jog as well like I want to. This is why when I enter college this fall at the College of Saint Mary I’ll be able to use their newly constructed Lied Fitness Center located on the campus where I’ll be staying in the dorms. It had many things located inside such as a indoor track field, indoor pool, indoor dancing studio and finally a gym that included many things such as a treadmill, weights and so much more. I really want to lose weight and I know that if I try really hard I can make this change happen. Not only do I want to prove the comments thrown at me wrong but I also don’t feel comfortable in my own skin right now and I want to make the change so that I can feel good about myself. I also want to get stronger and join a sport during college so that I can stay athletic and feel good about my body as well. I also want to make healthy eating habit apart of my coming new lifestyle because I don’t like eating only protein and want to eat more greens and fruits. I also want to try new food that I’ve never been given the opportunity to try. I know that I can make this change because o have a lot of self restraint and theirs a certain area in the cafeteria of my college where it’s dedicated to only eating healthy. I know that I can make this change apart of my everyday life by not only reminding myself everyday why I’m trying to get slimmer and healthier but also by thinking about how bad I felt about myself and my body at the weight that I’m at now.

I come from a very religious household so my eyes are always drawn towards “The Last Supper” by Leonardo de Vinci. This piece is his depiction of what the scene looked like when Jesus announced an apostle would betray him and is displayed in the Santa Maria delle Grazie church. This piece resonated deeply with me because it gives a visual learner like myself something to picture whenever I read the Bible but this piece is also hung up on one of my dining room walls, a replica of course. I love this piece not only because of how much detail went into not only Jesus but also his Twelve Apostles as well as the emotion captured into each and every one of their faces. This art piece was actually commissioned by Leonardo's patron, Ludovico Sforza who at the time was the Duke of Milan. The mural painting was started in 1495 and completed in 1498 and toke such a long time due to Leonardo’s inconsistent art schedule. Its many great aspects such as perspective, motion and display of human emotion has made it one of the Western world's most recognizable paintings and among Leonardo's most celebrated works. It is considered a prime work in showcasing the change into the High Renaissance. The High Renaissance is a short period of the most exceptional artistic production in the Italian states including this work. It was painted with materials that allowed for regular alterations however due to the methods used, a variety of environmental factors, and intentional damage, little of the original painting remains today despite numerous restoration attempts, the last being completed in 1999.

When I think about college, the word financial instability never crossed my mind until now. I realized that money and aspects of going to college come hand in hand since college is a way to invest in yourself. I learned so much that I never bothered to acknowledge before like managing my money with the 50-30-20 Rule which is basically spending your money based on: 50% Needs, 30% Wants and 20% Savings and Debts. In order to achieve this the most important things to keep in mind is spending mindfully, saving regularly, protect your assets and ask for help. Living within your means is incredibly vital during this process and in order to achieve this you must record everything you spend your income on over the course of a month, add up all your expenses and subtract this from your monthly net income and if you aren’t living within your means examine your expenses closely and try to figure out why. This is especially vital during college since college students can stress eat or make bad financial decisions on a whim. I live by this rule because while I may not be a impulsive person you can never be too careful with what you do in life. I want to be financially able as I grow up and have money saved up in order I’m every in an accident or need to pay something off such as a fee. I need to be ready for anything because throughout life it’s only you to fend for yourself and you can’t rely on your parents all the time to get you out of your financial problems. After all, financial adulthood is not something you grow into but rather it is a skill you must develop.

COVID-19 also know as the Coronavirus specified as SARS-CoV-2 is a worldwide pandemic that began in March 2020 and is still storming to this day albeit more stable thanks to the fact that a vaccine was made however that doesn’t mean that you still can’t catch this virus. A lot of people in my family tree died due to COVID-19 including but not limited to my grandparents on my fathers side, a close uncle, cousins and even my healthy twin uncles. So many people got robbed from me, including the ones that I was never able to meet personally like my grandparents. My father was a wreck when the news reached him 2020 but he wasn’t able to visit their bodies due to the fact that he had just gotten surgery for a bad liver due to alcohol so he wasn’t allowed anywhere that’s specified as a crowded place which is sadly what an airport is. I made sure though to keep a smile on my face through these tough times, especially when everyone in my family excluding my mother and I got COVID. I couldn’t shake the negative thoughts off my brain that they could’ve also easily been taken away from me but I made sure to stay optimistic and have faith that they’ll pull through while I was nursing them back to health with my mom and miraculously they survived. I don’t know how I never got COVID-19 that year, especially being surrounded by so many people who had this virus but I’m grateful that I never had to experience it due to the fact that I don’t have any faith in my own immune system. Staying optimistic even through tough times is a hard feat which I was able to accomplish. I’m proud of myself for this.

A parents love is incredibly important to a lot of people. It’s after all the same flesh and blood that run through them. So when my dad was admitted to the hospital I didn’t know how to feel. Growing up I had always known that my father was an alcoholic and I knew that he lost a lot of jobs just for this reason. The reason he was hospitalized was because he toke breaks every now and then to stop drinking but would always go back. In 2020 he had his longest break but that was also the reason why he got sick in the first place. For months he went without alcohol but he was slowly getting thinner and losing color on his body. He was getting sick and none of us noticed until one day he just froze and didn’t blink at all. It was the scariest moments in my life because we were taking to him but it’s like he wasn’t registering at all. We ended up dragging him to the car and then taking him to the hospital. The doctors told us that he had a bad liver and fear chocked us because they told us he didn’t have long to live unless he got a transplant. He got the transplant early 2021 and it made me learn that he’s a big figure in my life. I don’t think I see him not in my life and ever since then I’ve dedicated a lot of my time just talking with him and getting to know him better. I can’t image myself fatherless ever again even when I wished for him to be gone when I was younger. The turn around in our relationship was big and I’m grateful he’s still in my life to this day.

I’m not an overly religious person in any way, shape or form. I didn’t like having to wake up on Sundays early just so I could sit in a stifling bench at a building I didn’t care for. That’s how my personal view used to be. My big reason for wanting to help my community church is for one reason, I wanted to give back to them . I used to be an incredibly depressed person which was especially true when I was in middle school. I used to cut myself because I hated myself in every form and so I saw a therapist regularly. The reason I wanted to help back though is the fact that after my sessions ended I was always dragged to church. After going to church for months though it began becoming a tradition between only my parents and me. When they announced though that they were in need of money in order to keep the church running I immediately signed myself up to help them with donations and thus my community service began. I spent time with a committee built up of volunteers every week for at least an hour or two. We spend this time brainstorming ideas on how to build up money and we decided to host an amusement park . The event was an immediate success and we built up enough money for the church. This deed resonated with me because they did so much for me and I was finally able to help them back. If anyone were to ask me if I was the reason that the local church is still up and running I’d say no because this was a group effort and I didn’t accomplish this task by myself. However I am still proud of this accomplishment.

Over the summer I had a job as an intern at my local elementary school. To others it might not seem much like me mentoring the kids but to me it was because I know they looked up to me. I’d see the way their eyes lit up whenever I walked into my assigned first grade class and the mob of questions I’d be asked such as “Where were you?” and “Is it my turn to be reading with you?” It was a surreal experience and I loved my kids so much. The point of this internship was to advance the children's reading level due to the fact that the level that their reading level was at currently was inadequate for the things they’d be reading when they started second grade for the fall. So I’d steal the kids one at a time during a lesson and lure them to the back to not only have them read to me but also help them learn new words as well as help them with their writing skills. I knew that towards the beginning of the month they were unwilling and usually put up a fit in order to try to get out of reading but as time went by the slowly adapted to the change and wanted to read with me whenever the opportunity arrived. I not only taught them new things but I also acted as a temporary teacher to them. I hope that by the time my session with the kids is over and I have to say goodbye, their reading level will not only have increased but also their respect towards teachers. I hope they realize the influence I had on them leaves me in a good light in their memory as someone who taught them life lessons.

The world isn’t going to be around forever. The world is slowly dying and the blame, by default, goes to us humans. We the people are the reason our precious land is slowly eroding away. Humans would rather have more money and influence than be worried about everything that’s dying on this Earth. Animals and plants are going extinct and instead of making any sort of difference, people would rather share the news in order to get false pity and seem like they’re helping our world by “spreading awareness”. All that does is make the person sharing the post feel better about themselves and not help the poor organisms dying in our world. I am apart of my sustainability club at my school which helps not only spread awareness but also causes changes to be made to our school in order to help the environment. Instead of throwing out the trash in the cafeteria we renew it in order to make compound for the plants we grow in our garden. Instead of using the money we raise for our fundraisers to be used for our own school benefit we donate the money to environmental advocacy organizations such as Environmental Defense Fund, Bow Seat Ocean Awareness Project and many more because were trying to cause a change in this world that we live in. Things that I personally do in order to make changes to my own environment is instead of using a car to travel to places I either walk or bicycle to my destination. I also make sure to recycle things and make sure everyone on my floor dorm does too. I also try to limit my water usage when I’m showering, usually under half an hour. I’m trying to make a difference and I hope you are too.

I’m a very introverted person. I don’t like being pushed out of my comfort zone, especially when everyone else around me is making it seem like talking to strangers is normal. However the way life works, you have to push past your comfort zone in order to succeed in life. I used to have very bad social anxiety. I recall in elementary school, my teacher calling my name to read a passage from the textbook and I’d go mute. I’d stand there for minutes or at least that’s how it felt like, trying to force out the words I needed to say but it’s like my voice shut down. In the end after a while my teacher would just move on to the next kid but I’d get sent to the principals office for “not being able to listen to the teacher”. This is why during middle school I forced myself to take a drama class , because I wanted to step out of my comfort circle that I drew around myself and instead focus on bettering myself as a person. My first year of middle school hard, I had major stage freight and I kept freezing up but overtime by the second semester I was average at acting. I continued this passage the next year of middle school and by then I had improved my acting by a landslide and so I continued this passage during high school through drama club since I couldn’t fit the actual class in my schedule. I still have social anxiety but it’s not as bad as before. Even when I don’t feel like speaking to others I force myself to speak because I need to face my fears head on. I find the courage to be brave in order to live without regrets.

“They grew up on the outside of society. They weren't looking for a fight. They were looking to belong.” A excerpt from The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. I don’t really get attached to the stories I read. I read this book back in eighth grade for a project and it’s still my all time favorite book of all time. The emotional depth put into the main character, Ponyboy as well as the emphasis put on the other characters such as Johnny and Cherry and how they impact Ponyboy’s life and views in life feels so real. The themes also held in the book such as the cycle of violence, the gap between the rich and the poor, and self-sacrifice always hit hard. Seeing the way the poor and the rich always hits hard for me specifically for me because I could relate to Ponyboy in that aspect and also felt like the gap between the two was untouchable and obvious. When Cherry changed his way of thinking though it also changed mine because she’s right, both sides can have it rough no matter if they’re financially stable or not. Also the way Ponyboy begins to notice where the violence stems from and how it never stops is so creative because it’s a slow build up for not only him but us as readers since it shows us that both sides can be the problem and not only one side like he thought. Overall though I also love the book because of the vulnerability the characters show such as Dally being emotionally unable to continue living when Johnny died because he felt responsible for his death. Overall it’ll be my favorite book not only because of the reasons I listed above but also how it changed my aspect on life too.

Growing up with mental health disorders is difficult especially when it’s not normal and instead seen as something being wrong with the person dealing with it. I always felt alone and like I had no one to talk to despite having a supportive family, because I heard the things they said about me behind my back. This is why I was joyful when I got to begin meeting an actual therapist who listened to my problems and made dealing with my strong depression and crippling anxiety easier in the long run. She taught me things that I never would’ve tried to get better and also let me explore with many different hobbies to see if that helped me raise my self-love. I’ll share what I learned about myself that helped me feel better in my own skin a well as he,led me overcome hard time without having to push a blade into my skin. My love for music was always present ever since I was a child. It could’ve been any genre and I would be up and moving my stubbly little legs along with the rhythm. So it came as no surprise to me when it began to become a coping mechanism for me whenever I became too overwhelmed or the dark thoughts invaded my mind too much. I would just put on my headphones, turn up the volume and get immersed in the lyrics and what they could mean as well as block out the chaos that stormed in my mind. I love using music as an escape from reality because it not only helps me calm down by a significant margin but also let’s me sing as loudly as I want. I’m a very tunnel vision type of person. If I begin something I can’t stop until I know that I either did as much as I could to call it a day or continue on until I finish even if it takes me hours. However I know the skill is incredibly unhealthy especially since it’s physically impossible to be concentrating that much in general. So with the help of my therapist and the blessing from my own state of mind I started to take breaks in between my studying sessions or homework time. The first few times that I did this my anxiety would eat me alive at night and I was in a constant state of insomnia but after a few weeks I slowly adapted to the change and embraced it as a healthy coping mechanism. I was happy I was able to break away from this cycle mostly due to the fact that if I had continued I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to stop. I used to be an incredibly disorganized person. I would lose everything in the nearest vicinity of myself. I don’t temper how I was able to change this bad skill of mine around but I’m pretty sure it became ingrained into me to be organized when I moved during middle school. It was weird, being such a pathetic excuse of a human being but being able to be more organized than the rest of the kids in my grades. Others called it a blessing, I called it a nightmare. I hated the fact that I knew where the secret blade was all the time and the bandaids. My therapist was able to shift my point of view away from it being a bad skill though and taught me the importance of being organized in the long run and I’ll always be grateful.

There was blood everywhere on the floor. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the prone body lying on the ground. My eyes were blurry. Where did all that blood come from? I don’t know, everywhere on her body had red hues like a freshly picked rose. I didn’t know what to do. I recognized someone screaming but I don’t know if it was me or not. What led up to this situation? Why did she do this? Was it my fault? Was it someone else’s? I don’t know. She was fine earlier when we were at school. Sure she seemed withdrawn but that’s how she was ever since I met her. I knew she was suicidal to a degree. Her family had caught her cutting herself a few days prior to whatever this is. I guess I was no help at all in this situation because I didn’t even call the police, her parents did. Useless as always. Is that my thoughts or her thoughts talking? I don’t know. I didn’t get to ride with her on the ambulance. It makes sense I’m not family but I thought we were. Was I the only one fooling myself here? Who knows. How could you do this to me? I’ve known you since elementary school. Where’d all your energy go to. Who seeped it all away from you? Is my presence a disease? Don’t leave me. I still need you. The days blurred together and I don’t remember if I even went to school or not those dark days. Those days where it was just me and my thoughts. Just agonizingly true thought processes. Useless, useless ,useless , useless. Go die, Go die, Go die. If she dies it’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. Your fault. I don’t know how many days bleed by. I just know that her parents called me and asked me to come to the hospital, she was awake. It was painful. Seeing her there hooked up on so many machines and that awful unlucky smile. The tears feel harder than any of the days prior. She’s okay, she’s okay, She’s Okay. She didn’t seem like it though. This isn’t my friend. My friend would never look so lost. She would never look so dead. I knew what the problem was and I ended up telling her. I won’t stick around you anymore and you don’t have to stick around me anymore okay? God just repeating those words feels like thorns just pierced through my heart. She seems better now, she’s no longer withdrawn. Looks like in reality I was a fungus to her. That’s okay I guess. It hurts though. She recently started talking to me again after not hearing from her. I don’t know if I should feel elated or disappointed. She told me over the phone that she needed a change of pace, that I was too overprotective. She told me to fix that trait and then we could be friends again. I hung up on her, everything hurt then. We’re still not officially friends but we aren’t acquaintances either. I’ll never change for anyone though. Especially one who didn’t appreciate me when they had the chance. I check up on her from time to time though because I still want to be there for her. Even if she’ll never be there for me.