I was always afraid of growing up. Adults seemed so lost to me, as if they'd forgotten themselves in the mundane of cooperate life. Burdened by responsibility they lost their spark, their passion, their ability to live carefree and imagine. A year ago, as I prepared for my high school graduation, my 18th birthday, my move to university, everything was changing so fast-and I feared that I would too. At the time my French class was reading "Le Petit Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, a book my father had read to me in English as a child. It tells the story of a man who has crash landed his plane in the desert. While trying to fix it he encounters a strange young boy who tells him of the peculiarities that he's come across throughout his adventures. He calls this boy The Little Prince, and listens as he describes the difficulties of interacting with adults. An obsession with numbers, vanity, the want for more, repetition, telling others what to do, a lack of adventurous spirit, forgetfulness-these are all qualities of the adults The Little Prince encounters. He attempts to reason with them, to show them that there is more to life, but they do not listen-he is just a child, wasting their time. The narrator has also become an adult. He used to be a child, one with a vivid imagination, that wasn't subject to the qualms of adulthood. Through the stories of The Little Prince he is able to become a child again. He understands him, and is no longer subject to the faults of adulthood. The Little Prince eased my fears of aging. It made me realize that I shouldn't fear losing myself because people only loses themselves when they allow such things to happen. As long as I remember my childhood I will remain the same. Growing up is terrifying. It means so many more responsibilities than before, and it's difficult to remember why you're even doing it all in the first place. But I'm 18 now. I've gone through my first year of university. And I still remember who I am.

The efficacy of certain medical treatments is low, some diseases are still labeled incurable, and vaccinations prevent severity, but do not entirely eliminate sickness. Treatment costs are high, and not guaranteed to even solve one's problem-especially in the case of chronic illnesses. It’s difficult to suffer from illness, or to see your loved one’s suffering. The emotional and financial burden on families is often difficult to bear, and more efficient treatments would lessen the stress of worrying whether a medical issue is recoverable. I’ve always been drawn to science. It was fascinating for me to learn how the world works, from the elements which make up all living matter, to the forces of gravity which keep us on earth. But the most intriguing aspect for me was biology-learning about life. After all, biology is how I learn more about myself-my cells, how my brain functions, the responses my body has in place to different receptors, and the human genome. Each time I learn something new I marvel at how something so complex and small can be taking place within the human body, or even a plant. When I was in high school I thought I wanted to be a doctor. It seemed like such an obvious way to help people, and something I believed I’d succeed at. After thinking about it for quite some time however, I realized that many of the prescriptions I’d used throughout my life had worked in part, but never left me completely satisfied with my treatment. Many produce side effects, and although usually worth the risk, one should not have to trade in a disease for another. At this point my focus began to shift. I decided that I no longer wished to be a doctor but a scientist. I wanted to help people by making medication and treatments that would improve their lives, especially for those with severe diseases. After university I hope to work in a research lab, developing and testing new medications and devices. I want to live in a world where a child doesn’t cry for their sick parent, where a career isn’t thrown off its trajectory because of illness, and a life doesn’t end early from cancer. This is why I’m choosing this path-to make people’s lives better.

"Hey Kaitlyn!" my classmate shouted cheerfully, making eye contact as we passed each other in the aisles of the grocery store. I averted my eyes, looking downwards towards the ground, and muttered a short "hi". "It's rude not to say their name back." my parents would chastise me, as I yet again failed to deliver proper social cues upon seeing an acquaintance outside of school. What if they don't like me? Are they really talking to me anyways? My mind would start racing, decidedly thinking that something must be wrong; after all, why would they wish to speak with me? Upon new schools, new clubs, new sports I would burst into tears, fearful of being surrounded by new groups of people. I had little friends in school-my parents had concerns that I came off as disinterested, while I simply feared what people would think should I speak to them. Each night I would return home, exhausted from that day's social encounters, drained emotionally of everything inside of me. My mind would continuously replay each event that had happened that day, and all of my blunders, long forgotten by others, would remain to haunt me. Throughout my younger years this was simply an annoyance to both myself and my parents. There were events that I wished to go to, and things that I wanted to do, but the thought of running into someone I knew frequently kept me away. The few friendships I had were fleeting as I struggled to meet them outside of school hours, and preferred to stay locked up in my room, reading for hours each day. As I got older my anxiety and depression increased. I didn't feel like existing anymore. Over the course of my tenth grade year school went remote and I lost most contact with my friends. My parents left the house for work each day, and my sister traveled elsewhere during the daytime. This left me on my own, spending my days locked inside, having little conversation each day. What was once a small burden turned into a significant impact on my life. Eventually there came times when I didn't care about my life, and really believed the world would be better off without me. I continued like this, attempting to pretend that I was alright, even when I was suffering on the inside. The older I got the worse these problems became as I was forced to take on more responsibilities, and my schoolwork became more difficult. The worst part was feeling like I had to keep up the perception of being perfect. I had perfect grades, participated in clubs and sports, and often it wasn't obvious that I was suffering so much on the inside. Eventually I broke down. Nobody can put up a front forever. But sometimes you need to break in order to put yourself together again. I've received treatment that has allowed me to do so many things I once thought impossible. I once thought that taking medication meant something was wrong with me. But it was when I wasn't being treated, not when I was that something was truly wrong with me. I've gotten a job, gone to school, and am about to study abroad. I no longer feel like I have to be perfect all the time, and I've been able to accept myself and my flaws, making new friendships that have added new fulfillment to my life. My progress has allowed me to believe that anything is possible for my future. A future that is now bright thanks to everything I've been able to overcome.

"There's always somethin' in the mirror that I think looks wrong." - Olivia Rodrigo, "Pretty isn't Pretty" A young girl, staring at another. Their eyes match each other perfectly, the same color, blinking at the same time. They wear matching outfits-you could almost mistake them for twins. Everything about them is exactly the same-but one is beautiful, and the other is not. A girl looks at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stares back. The reflection they love-everyone praises her, says she is beautiful, that she is enough. But the girl looking into the mirror, she is not beautiful. Her hair cannot be controlled, her skin has blemishes, she's gained too much weight. She is not perfect, and therefore she is not beautiful. If only she could fix her imperfections, if only, maybe then she would be enough. But she is not. Makeup so thick you can't see the shape of her face, diets that bring upon pangs of starvation, expensive clothes that drain bank accounts, only to be tossed away as they go out of style. Only for her to look around at all of the other girls, and think of how beautiful they are, and how ugly she is. I've never considered myself to be "pretty". I used to look at myself in the mirror and frown, disgruntled by my unruly hair, my imperfect nose, my chapped lips. For years I woke up early for school, straightening my wavy hair in the hopes that I would look just like everyone else. I would feel embarrassed when I stayed over at friends houses, worried about my unruly appearance upon waking up, and often brushing my hair first thing in the morning. People have told me I'm pretty, beautiful, cute, funny-but it's difficult for me to believe anything they say. In the end it's not what other people have told me that's hurt the most, it's the things I've said to myself. All the times I've wanted to disappear, and the act of looking at my reflection has made me tear up, simply by thinking of all the ways that I am not enough. It wasn't my appearance that was wrong in the mirror at all, but the distorted version of myself on the inside that hated the girl she looked at in the mirror. I used to tear myself apart, shattering my appearance until all I could see was my flaws. I wasn't looking at myself though, but a version of myself that I had created in my head, letting my anxieties ruin me. In reality I had forgotten that my beauty on the outside is not important. Instead it is how I feel on the inside that truly matters.

I walked into my first day of chemistry lab this past fall not knowing how to light a Bunsen burner. In front of me I had the instructions laid out, stating each process I should go through in order to complete the experiment, which chemicals I should acquire, in what amounts, and each piece of equipment I should use. It felt like a foreign language to me. As I looked around everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing-which container to grab, how to use the strange looking lighters, and where to dispose of the chemicals. The TA gave little introduction on how to use certain materials, and I realized that these were skills I was expected to know, and yet I didn't. My high school didn't have a chemistry lab. I struggled my way through that day, managing to survive the hours I was there by looking at what everyone else was doing, and simply hoping I was correct. Eventually I got the hang of it, managing to scrape through the class with an A, and slowly learning as I went. It's been difficult going from a small town in rural Massachusetts to a large university, surrounded by others who spent their high school years at top prep schools that prepared them for a heavy course load. I've dealt with imposter syndrome, thoughts of inadequacy, and anxiety over my undertakings throughout the past year. But still, I've learned so much in a short amount of time, and I've been able to succeed despite these feelings. In high school I learned of an opportunity to be place in a lab at UMASS Amherst. My biology classes had offered me no experience, and I longed to see the research process firsthand, getting to work as a research assistant. I reached out to the program coordinator, emailing him in the hopes that I would receive a response. Eventually he agreed to meet with me, explaining that the program was only for students in the county over-but because I showed persistence in replying to his responses and reaching out he agreed to put me in the program, where I was eventually chosen for a spot in a lab because of my determination. Getting that exposure was vital for me, and led me down the path I'm on today, hoping to someday have a permanent spot in the scientific world. It's so important for me to learn as much as I can because with a biology degree I can take part in medical research that makes a real difference in somebody's life. So many modern treatments still lack the efficiency needed to cure disease, and cancer remains one of the deadliest diseases despite years of medical treatments and trials. Genetic diseases are finally receiving treatments through CRISPR, and it seems like other illnesses will follow. It's devastating to watch as the people you care for are in pain, and I strive to help improve the lives of the sick and their family members someday. My family is expected to pay thousands of dollars each year for me to attend school, and will have to double that cost once my younger sister is enrolled a few years from now. Going to university has been one of the best experiences of my life, but it's been worrying for me to know the cost that it comes at for myself and my family. Receiving this scholarship would mean so much to me as I would be able to focus more on school and less on the financial burden that I am giving my parents.

It's a Sunday night-you're sitting around in your friend's basement, cheering each other on as you roll an endless number of d20's, fight your way through epic dungeons, and ultimately come across your most challenging foe yet-the Demogorgon. Low on health, your party struggles their way through, rolling their way through spells as you have the opportunity to land one final hit-only one party member remains. You roll the die, waiting in anticipation, praying that you might conquer the beast, and your attack doesn't hit. Defeated, the session is ended, and your friends all make their return home, unsatisfied with the ending to the campaign. But what happens if one of those friends doesn't make it back? If the Demogorgon, which your party failed to defeat bridges the gap between fantasy and reality to make your acquaintance? If you, a mere child, are faced with a secret government plot, a runaway, and the threat of death looming over your shoulder? "Stranger Things" depicts a world in which a once typical group of friends is forced to take on the burden of supernatural forces, all while navigating through their personal relationship struggles. The music and cinematography work together spectacularly, making each episode a whirlwind of emotional turmoil as the characters either fail or succeed to conquer their goals. It's as if a real game of dungeons and dragons is taking place right in your average small-town America, and each party member slowly uncovers new pieces of the puzzle. Right alongside them is a strange girl by the name of "Eleven", with abilities that stretch far beyond the limits of reality. Rather than relying on Eleven's powers however, the show so often comes up with clever solutions to the characters problems, whether it be infiltrating a mall at nighttime or hacking into government agencies. The show is so unique because of the different perspectives it brings to the viewer. Eleven is certainly the most interesting, having to adapt to the "real world" after escaping a government facility, while the other children represent what her life could've been. On the other hand, the high schoolers and young adults in this show take on more of an older sibling role, from the main characters actual older sibling, to her ex boyfriend Steve, who navigates figuring out the world is going to end from a group of children, and decides to take a chance on them. It's the adults in this show who are the real surprise however-rather than dismissing the children they often discover the truth, taking on useful roles and working together to stop the latest evil forces. It is this that I find so intriguing. Instead of ignoring the children they take on a supportive role, allowing parental figures to still be present while allowing the kids to save the world. This subverts a common trope in story telling in which the parent or caretaker must first be eliminated for the adventure to take place. Every aspect of the show works in tandem to create a truly thrilling adventure, one that leaves you in total suspense at the end of each season.

Some of my earliest memories are of my dad and I sitting on the couch, loading up our wii, and playing Kirby’s Epic Yarn. As a kid, I was terrible at video games. I always forgot the right controls and struggled to use most controllers. Sure, I enjoyed playing games, but to be completely honest, it was my father who would actually beat each level, while I was just along for the ride. Randomly hitting every button would somehow get me along, and yet, while playing on my own, I never managed to get nearly as far as I could with him on my team. Still, at the end of each round, I would rush ahead of him at the last moment, jumping up as Kirby (who I always insisted on playing as) and ringing the final bell-the symbol of victory to complete the level. It was this moment that I loved more than anything-a song would play as our two characters would do a cute little dance, happily signaling their win. I love unlocking new areas, slowly progressing through the game, and fighting bosses. (Bosses were mostly just me desperately trying to dodge while my father landed any actual blows on the enemy). Going off to college, I’ve lacked the meaningful time I used to spend with my family. I rarely see them anymore, and my father has since sold the wii that gave me so many fun memories. Despite this, I still remember those moments from back in elementary school. Even as I’ve grown up, after all these years they stick with me, and I think back on them fondly. Now as I’m far from home I play games with my friends, making new memories and continuing my love for video games.

I clicked out of my Google Meet, closing each tab on my Chromebook as I shut it, a sigh escaping my mouth as the day ended. I moved from my desk, looked to my left, and plopped on my couch. Pulling out my iPad, I unlocked it, clicked on the Funimation app, and waited impatiently, reloading the site. I was waiting for the newest episode of “Fruits Basket,” a show that I looked forward to watching each week. It was memorable not only because of its beautiful storytelling but also because it was a remake, promising to deliver the entire story. The series follows a young high school girl, Tohru, making her way through life after suffering difficult losses and having to live on her own. She shows great perseverance, working an after-school job while maintaining her standing in school and doing chores for a family kind enough to take her in. However, this has a catch: The family that takes her in is possessed by zodiac spirits, and she must keep this secret for them or risk the wrath of a powerful figure at the head of their family. The main character navigates through so many problems, and yet she still manages to do so with a smile on her face. Her compassion throughout the series is inspiring, and at a time when I was lacking in human connection, it was necessary to remember that I had to take everything with grace, remembering to have empathy in difficult situations. I love this show because despite everything that happens, it ends happily, and each character has something to learn from Tohru. They each become better people for it, and she always puts other's needs above her own. Facing her own fears to help her friends she manages carve a new life for herself, and heal her loss through new connections.

When I was younger, people always told me I asked too many questions. It wasn't that they felt children shouldn't be inquisitive; it was more that they didn't always know the answer-they didn't want to tell a young child that they were unsure. I decided to be more independent from then on, forcing myself to work towards my goals with little help as I progressed through high school. This is why I have always strived to achieve despite roadblocks. Because otherwise, how would I ever get what I want out of life? It was in middle school when I first began to like science class. This was the path to the answers I had been seeking all along. I've always been the type of person who likes to know everything, longing to understand the world. This is why I decided to apply for an internship in the summer after my junior year. I first heard of the STEM at Work program when I was only fourteen years old, too young to join. You needed to be at least sixteen, the age I was three summers later, and one pandemic after when I could finally participate. It wasn't easy gaining my spot. I learned only after applying that my town wasn't technically eligible. But still, I had little opportunity in my rural area and was determined to pave a pathway for myself. I was persistent in my attempts to join. The program director eventually admitted that this had made him select me. I went on to help in a university lab that summer. But I realized if I had given up after being discouraged, I wouldn't have had that experience. I needed to create that opening for myself to gaze into the professional field that awaits me in the future.