Hey everyone! I just wanted to remind you all to embrace every moment because our time here is limited. Life gets so busy, but it's crucial to remember that we're only here for a short while, so let's make the most of it! I'm incredibly grateful for the universe blessing me with a healthy body, a healthy mind, and everything else I need for a fulfilling life. Let's start with my arrival into this world on September 14, 2006. My early years are a bit hazy, but I've been told that I was quite mischievous and loved taking my toys apart. I was ecstatic to start school at around 4 or 5 years old and got involved in nursery school and karate. I've always been passionate about learning, and I'll never forget the pride I felt when I scored 98% on a final exam, ranking first in my entire class. However, that joy faded a bit when my name was omitted from the award ceremony list and my scorecard was tampered with. It was a tough reality check for me. Afterward, I was feeling a bit down, but my parents took me to a Gift/Toy Shop to buy me a gift to cheer me up. I was stubborn and insisted on receiving an award/gift from school on a stage, but they bought me an expensive gift anyway, which I didn't accept at the time. Now, it's one of my most cherished memories, and the toy is proudly displayed on my memory shelf. This experience toughened me up and taught me some invaluable life lessons. Since then, I've grown to achieve a 2nd Dan Black Belt in Karate and I'm currently pursuing higher studies. I'm sharing this story not for your sympathy, but to illustrate that life often gives us a reality check. Maintaining a positive mindset has been crucial for me. It's not about the circumstances or the situation, but what we take from them that truly matters. I've also discovered that physical exercise has been a secret to building mental strength. Just a favor to ask: if you make a decision, keep it to yourself until you've applied it in your life. Also, it's best not to give advice on matters that you haven't personally experienced or don't have expertise in. Ananda, or true happiness, is within each of us. Start your self-discovery journey and embrace it. If you'd like to hear more about my life events, feel free to ask!

A child, 14, sits in his room. Quarantine has taken a toll, stealing away the ability to socialize with friends and the opportunity to learn at in-person schools. Life has begun to become boring, mundane, borderline useless. Being so young when COVID hits is a challenge. What are you meant to do? There wasn't much freedom to speak of before, and now it's all gone. One of the only things you can do at the moment, such an isolated time, is go online. He makes many online friends during quarantine that help sustain his wellbeing. Posting drawings on social media to show friends and mutuals replaces socializing in real life. The thing that's most different is that now, our hero enjoys learning. Research on Google becomes an outlet for him. He discovers a love for history this way, looking up facts about cowboys and about Victorian princes. He learns many interesting things and, in researching the late 1700s, discovers his new favorite thing; something that nobody in their right mind would enjoy. Tuberculosis. Everything about the pulmonary disease is extremely interesting to him. It begins with a fascination in hemoptysis, coughing up blood, then snowballs. Watching documentaries, reading informational books online, discovering more and more articles on the subject, the ancient disease becomes his lifeblood. He no longer feels so bored with life. He discovers that several fictional books about Tuberculosis exist, both contemporary and vintage, ones which tell stories about interesting characters in and out of sanatoriums. It inspires him to read again for the first time in three years. He has again found something worth spending time on. Learning about Tuberculosis becomes an unlikely source of happiness, one that will last for years to come. He finds a lot of enjoyment in researching the infectious disease, talking about it, watching videos that mention it. He has finally begun to discover himself.

“Di papa w!” my mother yelled dismissively at me in Haitian Creole, “Tell your father!” “Leave me alone!” I yelled. I ran into my room, slamming the door with such force that it made the room quiver. I stomped around until I finally collapsed into bed. I cried. I cried so much that I would cry myself to sleep. I was always aware of what was happening around me. I had to be; it wasn't obvious growing up that my parents didn't love each other. Although they never got into verbal arguments, the animosity was there. When they communicated, which was rare, it would be brief and followed by a petty comment behind the other's back. One of the things that would cause tension was transportation. I was always unsure who would bring me to and from school—would it be my mom, siblings, cousin, or a family friend? I never thought that it'd be my dad, as Mom made it clear that he “was busy playing dominoes with his friends” and that she would never ask him to pick me up. It was something I'd always have to do alone: be the messenger between two warring sides and I would grow up to mimic their behavior. Some of the ways they dealt with their issues with each other rubbed off on me, as I would often avoid conflict, ignoring the feelings building up within me until I would finally implode in a fit of rage and tears I couldn't explain. At school, this manifested in intense anxiety and reclusiveness, as I kept to myself and didn't share any parts of my home life with anyone. I can now say that I was heartbroken over the fact that my parents weren't getting along. I was confused as to why my parents, who were unmarried and clearly not in love, were still living together. I'd think to myself “What's keeping them here together?” and my subconscious answered back, “Me.” I began to blame myself for their hostility towards each other. I came to realize that I needed stability and affection, but I knew at that moment I wouldn't get those from my parents, so I looked towards a hobby that would help. Quilting became a way to create something meaningful and practical. This expensive hobby was made possible by a $500 grant that I earned and the rewards are invaluable. Quilting taught me how to adapt. For example, I used an old bed sheet to create the backing for my quilt, in doing so I also lessened the mental clutter I was struggling with. With every thread that connected and endured, it became something deeper than just sewing. As I would work on quilts, all of the emotions I felt overwhelmed by could be stitched into art I controlled. Quilting also became a medium to express my Haitian roots as well as be able to provide a little warmth to someone in need. As I made more quilts, my confidence began to build. At school, I no longer felt like a recluse who would walk around, hanging her head in despair. I would now hold my head up high with pride. At home, it has brought me closer to my mother, who's offered to help me sew. Now I hear “Moutre papa w” when I complete a quilt, and the tension in my home is eased knowing that she's saying “Show your father.”

A sudden global pandemic spirals out of control and then leads to lockdowns across major cities. What does that leave someone with? Nothing but a trail of disruption. For me the situation was a cocktail of activities and opportunities I had never dreamed about either doing or not doing. So here I was, this Nigerian lady of twenty-three trying to figure out my ‘new' life. Starting a relationship was never, ever part of my considerations. So how then did it eventually happen? Educational institutions had gone on break, most businesses and establishments asked to closed down or restrict opening hours and everyone ordered to stay indoors as much as possible to contain the spreading viral disease called COVID-19. But alone at home with little of my life the same as it was before the crisis, my world had transformed into something strange. I was at home doing nothing much except reading my books, catching up with old friends in town through social media and helping around with a little renovation with my siblings. Finding a traditional job that I could engage myself with around my neighborhood and beyond proved futile. It simply was a disaster. No one was hiring anyone new for a job. However, four months into my university break, I found something to do at home that I should say was fascinating: online freelance work. How I got into such a job sometimes makes me wonder but it all started with a friend of mine back from secondary school called Felix. He had sent me a Facebook message asking if I could help him out with some writing gigs. After my initial negative reply which was based on my little experience with creative writing, I agreed to help him. Back in secondary school, Felix was the most captivating of all the boys in my class and I considered him the most brilliant. Once in a while he would top the class but his periodic genius mind wasn't what started our friendship back then. Rather, it was his love for writing and drawing that got my attention. Some probing and demanding on my part made him finally take me as his apprentice. Weeks later, just as I was making some progress with these creative skills, I decided to quit. My love interest in art had gone and in its stead a close friendship had formed between me and Felix. I didn't feel I had it in me to be an artist of any sort or so I thought. Still I occasionally practiced when I needed a break from some stressful things. My first client was a lady, Felix's friend. She requested for a drawing of her boyfriend ahead of his birthday coming up in two weeks. A simple but unique piece of art was my first product in this new world of commerce and it was highly appreciated by many. I did many more interesting gigs after that but the most heartwarming was a love letter I wrote for a girl whose father had survived COVID-19. She cried after reading it stating it was the most love filled message she had read in a long time. Felix had told me about it in the happiest voice and for once in a long while I was moved by that knowledge. Many times I had to refer to the internet for tips on how to go about some projects. And like a mentor that he was, Felix was there to guide me through it all. He shared tips, experience, techniques with me that would help bring better results than the last projects. A year later since I started this new journey I found myself not so enthusiastic about it. It's like I had lost my love and interest for this phase and experience of my life that I felt so withdrawn. True, it was very demanding especially on my creative abilities but I sadly realized I was not in my most unique and comfortable zone. And so like years before, I decided to quit. I sent Felix a message in June, 2021, thanking him for everything: the teaching, support, advice and of course friendship. I told him in the nicest way that I wasn't ready to continue down this road of entrepreneurship, As a second-year nursing student my future career still obsessed me and I did not want to let that go. I did make a request to him that I wanted to be his official business partner in the art industry in future. More of a inactive one I reasoned. Sadly, he did not give a reply when I expected. I was hurt. I imagined he also had the same feeling of disappointment despite the confidence and encouragement he had given me and I still let him down. Some weeks later he responded. “I would gladly have you as my official business partner. Would you please accept my proposal to be my girlfriend?” he wrote back to me. Shock and surprise hit me as I digested the meaning of the message. I had a number of male friends but I had never dated or had a boyfriend before. This really was a first for me. I sent him an affirmative reply teasingly asking if he has had a girlfriend before. He said yes: me, in those days when we were in secondary school. And so that's how my love journey began with a guy called Felix. And till now, we are still going on strong in our relationship.

A sudden global pandemic spirals out of control and then leads to lockdowns across major cities. What does that leave someone with? Nothing but a trail of disruption. For me the situation was a cocktail of activities and opportunities I had never dreamed about either doing or not doing. So here I was, this Nigerian lady of twenty-three trying to figure out my ‘new' life. Starting a relationship was never, ever part of my considerations. So how then did it eventually happen? Educational institutions had gone on break, most businesses and establishments asked to closed down or restrict opening hours and everyone ordered to stay indoors as much as possible to contain the spreading viral disease called COVID-19. But alone at home with little of my life the same as it was before the crisis, my world had transformed into something strange. I was at home doing nothing much except reading my books, catching up with old friends in town through social media and helping around with a little renovation with my siblings. Finding a traditional job that I could engage myself with around my neighborhood and beyond proved futile. It simply was a disaster. No one was hiring anyone new for a job. However, four months into my university break, I found something to do at home that I should say was fascinating: online freelance work. How I got into such a job sometimes makes me wonder but it all started with a friend of mine back from secondary school called Felix. He had sent me a Facebook message asking if I could help him out with some writing gigs. After my initial negative reply which was based on my little experience with creative writing, I agreed to help him. Back in secondary school, Felix was the most captivating of all the boys in my class and I considered him the most brilliant. Once in a while he would top the class but his periodic genius mind wasn't what started our friendship back then. Rather, it was his love for writing and drawing that got my attention. Some probing and demanding on my part made him finally take me as his apprentice. Weeks later, just as I was making some progress with these creative skills, I decided to quit. My love interest in art had gone and in its stead a close friendship had formed between me and Felix. I didn't feel I had it in me to be an artist of any sort or so I thought. Still I occasionally practiced when I needed a break from some stressful things. My first client was a lady, Felix's friend. She requested for a drawing of her boyfriend ahead of his birthday coming up in two weeks. A simple but unique piece of art was my first product in this new world of commerce and it was highly appreciated by many. I did many more interesting gigs after that but the most heartwarming was a love letter I wrote for a girl whose father had survived COVID-19. She cried after reading it stating it was the most love filled message she had read in a long time. Felix had told me about it in the happiest voice and for once in a long while I was moved by that knowledge. Many times I had to refer to the internet for tips on how to go about some projects. And like a mentor that he was, Felix was there to guide me through it all. He shared tips, experience, techniques with me that would help bring better results than the last projects. A year later since I started this new journey I found myself not so enthusiastic about it. It's like I had lost my love and interest for this phase and experience of my life that I felt so withdrawn. True, it was very demanding especially on my creative abilities but I sadly realized I was not in my most unique and comfortable zone. And so like years before, I decided to quit. I sent Felix a message in June, 2021, thanking him for everything: the teaching, support, advice and of course friendship. I told him in the nicest way that I wasn't ready to continue down this road of entrepreneurship, As a second-year nursing student my future career still obsessed me and I did not want to let that go. I did make a request to him that I wanted to be his official business partner in the art industry in future. More of a inactive one I reasoned. Sadly, he did not give a reply when I expected. I was hurt. I imagined he also had the same feeling of disappointment despite the confidence and encouragement he had given me and I still let him down. Some weeks later he responded. “I would gladly have you as my official business partner. Would you please accept my proposal to be my girlfriend?” he wrote back to me. Shock and surprise hit me as I digested the meaning of the message. I had a number of male friends but I had never dated or had a boyfriend before. This really was a first for me. I sent him an affirmative reply teasingly asking if he has had a girlfriend before. He said yes: me, in those days when we were in secondary school. And so that's how my love journey began with a guy called Felix. And till now, we are still going on strong in our relationship.

I recently watched Bo Burnham's Netflix special ‘Inside', and it got me thinking. I was originally going to write about the month I spent living in a camper with my boyfriend in May of 2020, but that wouldn't fully capture my experience of this entire lockdown. So here it is. My quarantine began much earlier than most people. After graduating high school in June of 2019, two-thirds of my family moved in with my grandparents. Those three-quarters being my mom and I, leaving my older sister behind in a gamer den with her soon to be fiancé. After taking refuge in my mom's parent's basement and guest room that summer, I frantically applied to the local University and was shockingly accepted at the last minute. I would be going to art school. Whoop. Don't get me wrong I love being creative, but forcing myself to make art on a whim has never been my thing. Anyway, of course, because I love stressing myself out, I applied for a job around the same time and started working on the opposite side of town. Did I mention my boyfriend got signed to a hockey team two provinces away at this time as well? So not only was I starting a new job, but I was also starting University and keeping up a long-distance relationship. So began the arduous journey of getting up at 6:30 in the morning to rush off to the bus stop with my arms full of art supplies. Two hours on the bus, eight hours of classes, and then, of course, two more hours home. Then came the hours of meticulously sketching, smudging and setting of work that would be looked at for ten minutes and set aside for new homework. Most nights I stayed up until one or two in the morning to get my studying done, just to wake up in a few hours and do it all over again. All while working on the weekends as a lifeguard and swim instructor. Our one year anniversary was a rough one. It's definitely something I will never forget. It was a Saturday, so I was working and honestly a bit exhausted after only a month of the rigorous University program. All was fine until I had a full-blown mental breakdown on my lunch. Don't ask me why, my mind works in mysterious ways. Maybe it was because instead of spending it with the love of my life having fun, I was around a bunch of underpaid overworked teenagers who couldn't care less about their job. I had a lot of breakdowns during those few months and I'm just starting to see why. I can't say my University experience was a complete failure though. There were some moments that made me want to hang on even longer than I did. Halloween was one of these moments. We all got to dress up (not that art students don't already dress eccentrically every day) and in drawing class, our teacher posed dressed as a clown for our reference. Another eye-opening moment was when I got my highest grade (and one of the highest in the class) on a project I put zero effort into. Zero. Zilch. But because I said it was a commentary on the arbitrary monetary value we place on things and time, I checked all the boxes. It was at that moment I realized I didn't want to go to University anymore. Also, the fact that I had a professor tell us in lengthy detail about his University debt and how we would be walking away with a piece of paper at the end of this all. That whole experience was like quarantine in itself because I didn't go out anywhere in my free time, I almost never saw my family because I left early in the morning and got back too late at night, and I only ever saw the same people in my classes. But that wasn't even the worst part. After quitting University, I cruised along, working here and there until IT came. In March of 2020, everything was closed down. The University, the pools, and the border. I think that's when my last ounce of sanity truly went down the drain. It was such a contrast to the amount of work and effort I had exuded in the months prior that all I could do was sleep, eat, and stare at the ceiling. That's a bit of an exaggeration, but when I think back to it, the month of March is like a blank slate in my mind's eye. The biggest thing I learned from the past year has had to be that University was a huge waste of my time. Wait no, it did teach me that, so maybe not. But really, my time since graduating high school has been wild and I have learned so much about myself and what I want from life. I've learned more about myself in the last two years than in my entire twenty years of existence, and I've come out of it being an even more creative and decisive person. So I would like to thank myself. Thank you for making it through to the other side and being even more of a pain in my ass to stick to my goals and dreams. *Raises glass of non-alcoholic beverage* Here's to another few years.

The graveyard is the richest place on earth, because it is here that you will find all the hopes and dreams that were never fulfilled, the books that were never written, the songs that were never sung, the inventions that were never shared, the cures that were never discovered, all because someone was too afraid to take that first step, keep with the problem, or determined to carry out their dream." Les Brown Now that I have shifted my focus from competitive bodybuilding to writing, the atmosphere of my mind has taken on an astounding clarity and expansiveness. ("I can see clearly now the rain is gone" just lullabied it's way through my head). I have become more aware of my emotions and the thought patterns they invoke. In doing so, ideas and inspirations for writing are continuously flowing through my psyche. I often feel as if I'm in "La La Land" and with each blink of my eyes a new path or journey appears… There are masterpieces everywhere! And I am awake and aware of it all. It's like I have stepped out of a shadow and sunlight continuously pours over me! Author: 13 years old - 1st competitionI love bodybuilding though - understand that! I lift heavy and have an insatiable penchant for pushing my limits. I fell in love with bodybuilding when I was thirteen. Actually, I became a fitness fanatic when I was ten while aerobics was making its world debut. It has served me well both physically and mentally. Had it not been for my intense focus in that arena we would not be having this conversation now! Bodybuilding, running, and cross training have kept me from plunging deep into the Dregs of Depression ,drug addiction, and alcoholism. Weight training and wanting to become a personal trainer kept me focused and alive. However, bodybuilding is not my thing. I am a writer. I started writing before I started working out and then abruptly shifted my focus to bodybuilding. When I did that, the writer stepped into the shadow of the bodybuilder. In 2018, the desire to begin my autobiography emerged again as it had done sporadically since 2006. However, my life took a few major twists and turns, as usual, and my autobiography slid to the side and "A Love Story: The Truth About Faith" was created. It took me a year to write and during that year an amazing transformation took place: my true self emerged from within the shadow. Seeing my book available on Amazon and having a young woman who is very dear to my heart tell me that it was what she needed at that precise time in her life birthed me into the fullness of my purpose as a literary artist. About two and a half months after publishing my book, I had a conversation with God. where He explained to me that he had allowed and encouraged me to focus on bodybuilding to keep me moving forward. He said this is my truth: I am not a bodybuilder who writes… I am a writer who participates in bodybuilding. You know how in the movies when someone has an epiphany and the clouds separate and angelic voices sing "ahhhhhh"? Well, that was that moment. It became crystal clear to me that I had misidentified myself! As this realization continued to manifest within me, I received more clarity about how I should be living my life. I don't know the right words to use to describe the feeling I have from living my life on purpose now. The shadow of uncertainty is gone. I awake each morning eager to see what the horizon of creativity will reveal to me. **** What's your thing? What is your passion in life? Do you even have passion in your life? Are you living on purpose or is life dragging you through the trenches of indecisiveness, procrastination or, even worse, stagnation? **** Do you know that you possess gifts, talents and abilities that have been cleverly and carefully woven together to fit your unique personality? The world needs your special mix! Someone somewhere NEEDS YOU! YOU MATTER!!!! It's not too late to make yourself your priority. Step out of your own shadow and let yourself BE YOU!

Walking is hard, for tall weeds hide the bleached white broken bones of skeletons, incomplete, with ribs and other parts sticking up, waiting to cut into my bare feet. My breath runs and hides, while my heart jumps around in its chest cave. I part some weeds only to find the complete skeleton of a woman. I know it to be female, for down by the legs, half in and half out of her is the tiny skeleton of a babe being born, frozen by fire during its delivery. Time has driven away the sweet-smelling grey ash of those burned beyond the knowing of the soul that once inhabited them. Purple and blue flowers grow through the foundation stones of our fallen temple. A deep dark hole is all that marks the holy tomb at the temple's rear. I pick some of the creeping flowers, say a blessing, and throw them down. Swallowed up by the blackness around them, I do not hear them land. Houses of wood have left no proof of their being, except in my memory. I feel four hundred ghosts follow me as I take the long walk back to the sea, to the boat that will carry me away. I do not say goodbye, nor do I look back as the motor starts. I hope these images of my homeland can be erased and replaced with the ones that fill my heart.

I cradled the ticket in my hand as I watched the dust motes dance to the silence of the fading sunshine. The tracks shifted gently somewhere far off down the line in the crumbling remnants of what once was a strict European station. Swallowing my heart, I saw the café nearby housed patrons that came as quickly as they went; but hidden in my memories, a family once sat united. Even if remembering meant knowing what I could not have, I still held to it like a petal on a flower. But with the rustle of wind as a train tore onto the platform, the ticket slipped from my fingers as the memory faded beyond reach. Once again, the hole in my chest etched its way out, and hazy eyes followed the dying scream as the train departed. I fixed my shoelace; tying my life together in a flimsy bow. Finally, I sighed and stood unsheathing my sword, ready to face a world full of people. Me? I walked alone. The café held smells that made my nose twitch and being jump in excitement. The dessert display contained a wild array of textures – the shattering, airy crunch of meringue, and the softer ones of glazed jams and gleaming chocolates. Pastries with rolling bubbles and cooling air pockets steamed, causing a tsunami of desire to churn within my mouth. My hand reached for the lightweight (but not brittle) treats before my brain could catch up and shout furious instructions that lead me to a table isolated far off in the back. Not even the sun dared to shine as I sat in personal punishment, waiting for another train to arrive. The pennies clumsily scattered on the table were barely enough for a new ticket. I couldn't afford to eat. It felt as if rough hands had grabbed me and forced me back into a casket. Without a word, the lid slammed silencing my last hope, and my rumbling stomach served as a dying protest. Every shaky breath bought me one more moment, and the longer I fought, the less appealing the chocolate drizzled delicacies appealed. Even then, I held my breath to stifle the temptations caging me in. My lungs strained against the thin air; however, the tight darkness choked me as it seeped into my chest. The only option was to gasp like a dying man. It burned and thumped through my veins in a complete reversal of how breathing is supposed to work. Glassy eyes searched for a lifeboat to cling to, but nobody was coming. The waitress bustled, preparing a coffee for a woman in clothes too smart to be riding a train. A man sat hunched over a paper and pen, resembling a tart engorged with custard. And a boy just like me with dreary features, and a worn-down attitude slouched at a table picking at the ghost of his meal. The minute hand of a clock ticked its way full circle, and even with the continuous reminder of the fluidity of time, the world no longer spun. Like tremors, it began as a twitch in my nose, and soon the horrible monstrosity of nature was upon us. A sneeze so grand the table's napkins swirled into a hurricane, but still, not a soul turned. I blessed myself, but the room swallowed the noise, and I realised then that I hadn't heard my voice since the last blue moon. Instead, the café's radio murmured like T.V static. A blaze of light animated the brick that connected me to an alternate reality, and as if it could tell that cotton clogged my throat, it alerted me of a notification. The phone was a false hope, for no wires trailed from the base that led to the outside world. Once again, my shoulders caved in like a sandcastle overrun by waves. I was an addict for human contact, needing the sweet morphine to quell the craze pinching my brain. It hurt as if nails were trying to claw me apart. Exiting the store in a flicker of a moment, I stood by the tracks and gazed down the line. My pennies were replaced by the purchase of a new ticket, but this one was strangled between fingers, trapping buried memories within the crinkles. In my ears, a million tiny whispers echoed like a heartbeat, but home was an ocean away and as old as stone. I was close –a few beats off– but like muscle memory, I still knew my way back. The incoming train creaked and cringed in a sweltering welcome, and with stilted steps, I clambered aboard. A crooked man resembling a screw stamped my ticket, and my head fell back like a weighted anchor. The damp scent of mildew and rotting fabric swamped the atmosphere in a thick blanket, but just knowing that I was returning to a place that blazed brightly with laughter diluted the stench. I surrendered to the massive hulk of horsepower; to the chains and rigs that ran on the energy of a single piece of coal. No matter how often the cables would break, or the gears ceased, the machine learned to function, just as people learned to move on; learned to get by with every chip and mark. It's not quite right. There are broken pieces, missing pieces, and sharp edges that still draw blood. It's strange, unique, and filled with tragedy; but, it's the belief that the machine still functions despite itself.

This is true on so many levels. What we consume through our exterior physical body can deeply impact our spiritual health as well. This includes eyesight, hearing, smells, food, thought patterns even what we speak. Each of these can deeply influence our very existence so very much.

Looking at the mirror, I see myself with a sense of peace today. Devoid of any makeup or accessory, late at night, my reflection smiles back at me. Sometimes it is a smile of joy and victory, sometimes of heart-wrenching sadness. But these is always an odd sort of comfort, like the feeling of slipping into your favorite pair of worn out pajamas. Or the feeling of coming back home after a long, tiring day. This solace was earned, not gifted. I was born as a confident and happy child. Never really caring about my looks, I do not remember ever worrying about how people saw me. My teenage years were not so carefree, however. They were tainted by remarks about how my ugly self did not deserve any company, let alone sympathy. I looked at the mirror then too, but with feelings of contempt and despair. My confidence hit rock-bottom. I did things to myself I am not proud of. I have always had long hair, now I hid my face behind it. Walking through the school corridors, I hung my head low. I had few friends; people distanced themselves from me as if I carried an infectious disease. It can take years of contemplation to make a change happen, but in hindsight you can always find a turning point that acted as the catalyst. My turning point came in the form of a random woman in a random convenience store. She kept stealing glances at me, making me extremely conscious of my appearance. Just when I could no longer bear the scrutiny and was about to bolt, she walked over to me and said in broken English, “You're very pretty.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. What was this strange woman saying? My face was bare; my hair, which I consider my best physical feature, was tied in a bun. She looked over me once again, then said in a decisive tone, “Yes, very beautiful.” She waited a few seconds for me to make a reaction, during which I barely managed to gather my wits and mumbled a faint thank you. Then she left, leaving me extremely confused among aisles of snacks and scattered thoughts. I believe in miracles, I am forced to believe in them since that incident. Now whether the miracle came to me or I made it happen was another question. I have reasons to think that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination. My brain could have simply conjured this up to pull myself out of the pathetic state I was in. I do not remember a thing about the woman; her face, her clothes, her voice, nothing. Just the words. If you are thinking I suddenly discovered my hidden beauty, got a wardrobe upgrade and showed the world what a catch I was, then I apologize for being the cause of disappointment, but no such thing happened. I did not feel particularly beautiful after that encounter, but it did eventually bring clarity to my thoughts. For one, there was no great change in my appearance that could have suddenly sparked such hatred among my peers. Sure, my body was changing thanks to puberty, but my face was essentially the same as it was before I was bullied. Thinking hard, I traced back to the inception of my suffering: a certain comment from a mean classmate who was always jealous of me for some unfathomable reason. Historically speaking, being the subject of envy has never worked out in my favor. At that time, the consequences of a single snide remark were two whole years of self-hate and being treated like an outcast. It took me months to come to terms with the fact that the harassment had nothing to do with the way I looked. More than a year later, I finally learned to fight back and recovered my lost self-confidence. I did nothing to change my appearance. This experience has greatly shaped the way I feel about beauty as an adult. In my 22 years of existence I have been fortunate enough to live in three different countries and meet countless beautiful people, as well as a few ugly ones. Before you jump the gun, let me clarify that beauty, or the lack of it, does not simply refer to the so-called golden ratio or the symmetry of a person's face. At least not in my dictionary. To me, the most beautiful person in the world would be empathetic. Confident, yet not arrogant. Bold, yet not disrespectful. Physically, well, there is no single way to be beautiful. There is no denying the fact that the first thing you see in a person is his/her face. It is out there for the world to see, and it is convenient to judge thanks to the many beauty standards society has imposed upon us. The problem arises when we take the easy way and try to figure out a person's character based on his/her looks. Stop. Because this is where you should stop. Not only are you putting unfair expectations on that person, but you are also making a fool out of yourself. I now listen to the people worthy of my love and admiration to evaluate my beauty. Most importantly, I listen to myself. Do I think I am beautiful? Physically, I consider myself just normal, and I love it. But truly? I am on my way there, though I still have a long way to go.

Today at work I overheard someone bad-mouthing me. Not just anyone, though. My manager. The person who had been mentoring and teaching me since I started working at that company only six months back. The person with whom I shared an office with every day. Moments before, I had made a minuscule mistake while talking to a customer on the phone. She was quickly able to correct me before the phone conversation ended, so in the end, everything was fine. Apparently, I was wrong though, and that mistake made it necessary to vent to a co-worker about. This particular woman didn't have a quiet voice to begin with, so it wasn't hard to pique my attention. When I heard the harsh whispers I immediately froze. My ears went into an ultra-satellite mode. I could feel all the blood rush from my head. My hands got icy cold. The thuds from my heart were rattling my chest. My emotions shifted rapidly between anger, sadness, confusion, embarrassment, and betrayal. The next thoughts that flashed through my head were that I needed to put my two-week notice in. There was no way I could show my face around here again. Why do people do that? Why do people have to talk negatively and gossip about others? Unpleasant flashbacks to high school were triggered. It was all childish and stupid, coming from someone who knew better. Even though I tried so hard to barricade them, the tears started to spill out, along with a few stifled sobs. I was truly hurt. I already didn't enjoy being there as it was, and hearing those hurtful remarks didn't make it any easier. Since I was still relatively new, I realized it was inevitable that I would make mistakes. But of course, nobody wants to make them. We want to achieve perfection and excel at our jobs. Nobody wants to be the straggler who doesn't know what they're doing. The person who gets dirty looks or eye rolls when they're struggling to complete a task. This was one of my worst fears coming true. When she casually returned to the office, all my bottled up emotions exploded and I confronted her about it. It all kind of gushed out without me being able to control it. Normally that is something I wouldn't have the guts to do because I hate confrontation. But for some reason this time I shakily stood up for myself, like facing a lion in a den. She seemed shocked that I had been able to hear the private conversation and admitted what she had done was wrong and not appropriate. She repeatedly apologized while I tried to get my crying convulsions under control. I could tell she felt bad, and I'm glad she did. I replay that moment back in my head and am so proud of myself for saying something. If I hadn't, she probably would have kept at it. Even when you don't think you have the courage inside yourself, it'll emerge when you truly need it. This was a brutal reminder to always be kind to others. Even though it's tempting, it's important to avoid the addictive habit of gossiping. You never know who may be listening.

Have you ever tried to imagine being someone else? Two summers ago, when I was 11 years old, I auditioned for a role in Yellow Fever, the Musical. I was absolutely thrilled to be cast as a Korean mother of two who survived the Korean War and lived through hunger and poverty. This was the first time I was part of the main cast and played such an important role. I was anxious but ready to fully commit and put in the maximum amount of effort to perform well in the musical. During that four week period in the Summer of 2016, I learned about the reality of the world around me, realized the importance of teamwork, and discovered the connection between the story and my heritage. This entire experience encouraged me to grow and has changed the way I view the world. The knowledge I gained during the musical program gave me a deeper insight into what it must have been like to live in a war-torn society, struggling with poverty and hunger. To understand my character, I did a lot of research on the history of the Korean War and Korean culture. I read the script over again and again, not just to memorize my lines but to understand the story I was going to tell. I got to visualize myself in her world, and fully immerse myself in the story. Over time, I became more familiar with the complexity of the role as I gained an understanding of the reasons that led to the many ideals and expectations she created for her children. One winter night my character was trembling in the cold weather and her stomach was growling. When she saw bread coming fresh out of the oven, she couldn't help but grab a piece and run. She had no other choice but to steal a small piece of warm bread in order to survive. This made me realize how I was so ignorant of the struggles around the world. The more I learned the more empathetic I became towards my character. In addition to the hardships of war, my character still nurtured hopes for a brighter future. Therefore, she came to America to provide better opportunities for her children despite the struggles to fit in a foreign culture. Along my journey of understanding the story as well as self-discovery, my ambitious cast pushed me even further. My peers, who had been in this program much longer than me, were all very supportive and allowed me to flourish in the new environment. Even though there were some long days, I had so much fun with my cast while we worked towards a common goal. Since that was my first year there, their will motivated me to become the best of myself. I connected with many teachers and directors, consulting them on how to become a better performer and how to better act out my role. Their advice had brought me a long way and in the limited amounts of time I was there, I was able to deeply bond with many people. There was this one time during our lunch break that our entire cast sat around the table and discussed what we wanted the audience to get from the show. We shared our ideas and laid out a plan. We even stayed connected after camp hours just to map out the play and rehearse lines. During that time, I really saw how far our teamwork had brought us. Without everyone's cooperation, the show would not have been as successful or as memorable as it is now. The entire experience inspired me to give my all into the things I am passionate about and to never lose that light of hope even in difficult situations. As I dug deeper into the story, I realized how close it all hit home and the connection between the musical production and my own heritage. Before rehearsing for this musical, I had never truly appreciated the struggles my own family had to face. My grandmother also lived through a similar situation. She grew up in the time of the Cultural Revolution in China and many opportunities were taken from her. When I was seven years old, my grandmother told me a story about her life as a teenager. She had to work in order to help feed herself and her family, working at the train station, selling cargo labels. She told me how hard it was working twelve and more hours each day, running from dawn to night trying to get customers to buy her labels. She also had to outrace other hungry children which made the job even more exhausting. This story is very inspiring and motivational for me and after I was able to better understand it, I gained a deeper admiration for my grandmother and realized how fortunate I am today. My grandmother's experience enabled me to feel the determination to survive. I was able to apply those emotions to my character, which ultimately improved my performance. Before the four week musical program, I would have never discovered so much about the reality of the world, the power of teamwork, nor the truth about my own heritage. I know the skills that I developed during this period will continue to serve me well. This experience has helped me to build values that I will cherish for the rest of my life and it has become an essential part of who I am becoming.