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It is believed that there are five stages of grief. First denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. I never quite grasped why grief seemed to hurt so much, why people spend years healing, why this one feeling needed five stages of other emotions tied up with it.

The summer my sister drowned was hot, sticky, and humid. It was your typical summer, and it was just another day, another day at summer camp. The day my sister drowned, the sun felt especially brutal, and I was glad to be busy inside for camp. The cool blast of the air conditioning embraced me, and I almost dreaded going home due to the heat. I recall being immersed in a book, lost in a world that would never be mine, waiting for my parents to come pick me up. A few of my camp counselors were huddled whispering, throwing glances my way, which I vaguely noticed before squinting in the dimly lit room to continue reading. Just seconds later, they called me over, and it comes out oh so suddenly-your sister fell into the water and drowned. I froze, my breath caught in my throat. She's currently in the hospital right now, we don't know her conditions, but your parents will be here soon, okay? The floor slipped away from me, and I fell underwater, sinking. Their voices faded, my heart pounding pounding pounding, like a ticking time bomb. I couldn't feel my hands, couldn't feel my feet, was I still standing? My vision blurred, the world tipped and everything spun, with roaring waves of nausea crashing over me. My throat closed up, and I need air, need it, but I can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe at all, falling, sinking deeper, watching the light slip away, further further and further still, and breathe breathe how do I breathe-

That would continue for the next hour, as I sat, still as a statue, pale as a ghost, waiting for my parents.

Miraculously, she survived, leaving the hospital just a few days later, and thankfully is alive and well today. I didn't lose my sister, but for the two hours when I thought she was gone, I was an only child. I grieved those two hours, praying it had to be a mistake, that it was just some silly joke. Then I begged, begged the universe to not take her, that I would change, be nicer to her, always share my food, so as long as I could have my sister back. My parents have similar stories, of their heart dropping to the pit of their stomach at the call, panicked driving, speeding to the hospital, standing at the edge of the hospital bed, being unable to do anything but watch their child, ghostly pale, with lips nearing blue, looking incredibly small in a bed and gown three sizes too big.

I think I finally understand why grief is the most complex human emotion. Grief is the pain you feel losing something you love. So really, being human is to love because you must have loved to have lost. And you really only lose what you love.

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To be human is to understand ourselves as more than an individual alone, but an individual who has been shaped and now exists as a living mosaic of all people from your life’s history.

For you to carry one’s laugh, to carry their face, to embody their spirit. The parents who first took your hand in theirs, the one who taught you how you would grin, the one who taught you how you would scrunch your eyebrows, your nose, widen your eyes, crease the corners of your mouth when bubbling with whimsy, and taught you how you would hide your face when tears wept from your eyes. The one who taught you what to scoff at, and when to be ecstatic, at the edge of your seat. Make your palette for what you find tasty, and teach what would make you both gag. The one who gave you your words, the one who gave you the way you spoke, the very inflections in one’s speech, the one who gave you your voice. To be mad like they were, to be sad like they were, to be happy like they were, to catch how they live, whether you'd prefer to or not.

For you to be thrown friends, to follow in their actions, follow in their behaviours, be troublemakers, or be good, to let their lives pave a track for yours to run alongside. To like what they like, to love what they love, and to hate what they hate. To have a stranger leave you a life-changing eureka out of the blue, develop an archnemesis to wish, work, toil to make your existence feel like a festering disease, and maybe one who, with a single sentence, word, or face, dropped and left you down a spiral, an infinite, unbearable pain till you leave this dreadful world.

But whether you’d prefer to or not, you carry them with you through memories and actions, in your words, voice, and emotions, fostering your own identity. To find yourself as one of many alike, by choice or not. To suddenly realize you are a bright reflection of parents, friends, and strangers. The self you caught in your eyes, simply a filtered image in the mirror, from the surrounding ones in a mirror maze. A mirror maze, a confusing headache of images overlapping, spreading across from one onto another, with no clear answer as to who came from whom. Inevitably, all bleeding together into one ray of colors you see to be what makes you, you, and the reason why you are who you are, whether you’d prefer it to be or not.

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The state of being human relies upon one’s ability to recognize the impulses of human nature and to consciously choos to resist them. Humanity is not defined by perfection, but by the struggle between instinct and integrity. Picture a man starved, homeless, clothed in nothing but soiled rags. He stumbles upon a wealthy boy lying in an alleyway. The boy is bleeding, broken, and vulnerable. From the boy’s pocket bulges a wallet thicker than the man has ever seen. Every instinct tells him to take it and run far, far away. Instead, he kneels beside the boy and offers help. In that moment of resistance, when survival challenges compassion, the man claims his humanity through his actions.

This conflict is not limited to hypothetical. Instead, it exists quietly in everyday life, lurking behind one's every action. I have faced moments where surrendering to temptation would have been easy and immediately rewarding: the ability to glance at my friend’s test answers, possibly faking my cello audition recording, or telling a harmless lie for a bit of praise. Each offered an extremely brief feeling of satisfaction. They could have offered a moment of relief or wholeness. Yet such moments are hollow. When integrity is sacrificed, the satisfaction is replaced by guilt and self-loathing. What remains is not self fulfillment, but the daunting awareness that something essential has been lost to one's own greed.

Without the consistent defiance of our primal instinct to survive and prioritize ourselves over all else, society would erode into one driven purely by self-interest, which is an existence defined by impulse rather than order. Society relies not on the absence of temptation, but on the conscious choice to resist it. Defying one’s nature fosters empathy. Small, deliberate but significant acts form the foundation of humanity. It is through these choices, repeated daily, that we remain human and preserve the delicate structure of society as a whole.

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Being human means having empathy. Being able to place ourselves in other perspectives, and truly understanding the meaning in that. Being able to understand the reason for things happening, being able to understand why someone did something, and understanding why they feel a certain way. This feeling of connectedness is what makes us human. Compassionate empathy is the ability to understand what someone is feeling and feel the desire to help them. This small desire can lead to great things, but those great things wouldn’t be possible without having this trait of humanity.

One example I want to share is the character Will Graham from the “Hannibal” series. He is a character who is able to empathize with serial killers, to help the FBI catch them. This example shows that no matter what you do, or what you become, your ability to empathize is what makes you human, not your actions. No amount of crime or hatred will make you less human. This cognitive ability is what gives us humanity, and although not everyone has it in the same way, everyone has it.

In the show Avatar: The last Airbender, the world is split up into different nations, all constantly fighting with each other. The main character Aang, has the opportunity to solve some of these problems the world has, but instead of solving them with force, or violence, he empathizes with his enemies. He tries to understand them, and make them understand the power in sticking  together. Even when he’s beaten to a pulp, he continues to believe others can change, and places himself in their shoes, choosing to never resort to violence. This display of perspective empathy shows how much he values everyone. He never once refers to his enemies as “evil”, but instead as people who are hurting or mislead, showing how his ability to empathize with his enemies is what makes him who he is. His guilt over the genocide of his people shows empathy through emotional awareness of his situation. Being human means having empathy, whether that’s cognitive, compassionate, perspective, or some other form, having empathy makes us who we are. It is the human ability above all other abilities.

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To be human means to display a sense of resiliency that overcomes any challenge and to always move forward no matter what. We are defined not just by our great successes but also how we respond to moments of failure, the moments when we feel isolated from the rest of the world who just sits back and watches us fall. One such moment was on a cool August day in Munich, Germany, 1972. Coming into the men's 10,000m olympic final, Lasse Viren from Finland was one of the favorites to win the race. In fact, he was part of a line of Finnish long distance runners nicknamed the “Flying Finns,” which included other legends like Hannes Kohlemainen and Paavo Nurmi. No doubt, similar thoughts ran through Viren’s mind as he waited for the gun on the startline, and as he stayed with the pack during the initial laps of the race. As he entered the 12th lap of 25, he felt the sharp scrape of cinder against his skin as he tripped and fell over, the air knocked out of his lungs and his sense of rhythm destroyed. He could hear the entire stadium gasping with shock as his ears were ringing and his mind processed what had just happened. By the time that he managed to get up, the others were about 20m ahead, which was a practical death sentence even in such a long race. As he ran to catch up, his struggle was not against his competitors, but rather an act of defiance against fate itself. His breath was ragged, his legs were burning, and his mind was racing, yet he managed to catch up with the pack in just 150m. However, the race was far from over and Viren was certainly disadvantaged from having to catch back up. With just 600m left to go, Lasse Viren switched into yet another gear, filled with a sense of resolve that could only be understood by his predecessors in athletics, and his own nation which had gone through a similar struggle to maintain its independence. As Viren crossed the finish line first in a time of 27:38.35, his achievement resonated far beyond the Olympics, or even the sport of running, demonstrating the human capacity to keep going no matter what. Courage is not a lack of fear, but the decision to endure hardship and press forward. “Being afraid is the only time a man can be brave” - Ned Stark.

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To be human is to be alive and present in many different forms and personalities. It is to be in the present and take in all things that you perceive with your eyes, and respond with behaviors that dictate your personality. Being alive means to express your mind's information in a free- but also controlled environment. Having control of your feelings and the state of presence is what I learned that I needed to accomplish in order to become a better human being.

Throughout my academic life, I have experienced many situations where I tend to leave my emotions uncontrolled and where I panic in places that may seem almost laughable to others. The thought of even encountering a test, the sound of the alarm bell ringing, the immeasurable dread of getting a test back just to see all of my mistakes, they all hurt. Thoughts about academics from 2nd, 3rd, 4th, or even 5th grade and daily things like these feel as heavy as the weight of the world between my shoulders and are at the back of my mind. Even when doing things that I like like going outside on the playground cornering my house, or watching a show on the living room TV, my mind still resonates with constant dread and fear of the next, big and troublesome thing that will arise to my attention in the future. Whenever I get a math assignment from school or when I am told to study, I do it out of fear of getting behind other students, wanting to get better but always lagging behind like a constant race where everyone has realized how to properly live their lives. Whenever I do an assignment, my anxiety increases, my conscience decreases, and my mind slowly falls into an almost endless void of fear. “Slow.” That’s what they said whenever I couldn’t bring myself to finish something quickly enough.

My parents, however, being the kind hearted and fully realized human adults bestowed their wisdom and guidance of liveliness upon my tainted mind and tried to help me create a path to get along with all of the other students. They taught me to inhale and exhale, to be active, and calm in situations that are appropriate. They taught me yoga, an effective way to connect the body and its careless, frivolous actions with the vividness that was my mind. They taught me to be fearless, and stand up for myself when behaviors with other peers were taking a dangerous turn. If only I had listened then, would my mind have fully grown to its amazing potential. To focus and listen to my parents when they give me a piece of advice. To then execute that advice without fail. That would have helped me immensely in my future.

The process of managing your emotions, focusing on the moment, and completing tasks using the best of your adaptability are all massive improvements that every single human being can make. The is the essence of being human that I have learnt is to constantly find new ways to combat these problems and grow our capabilities.

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To be human means choosing to try again and again, even when you fail or fall short of what you want to achieve, standing back up anyway.

I always feel a sense of accomplishment after finishing a piece and satisfaction follows a perfect run. This occurs because I know of the effort, both physical and mental, that built up to this moment. I’ve practiced until my hands and fingers are sore, aching from playing difficult measures over and over again, my mind exhausted from memorizing the endless rhythms and notes.

A constant in my life has always been piano, from when I was in preschool to now in high school, and practicing is almost second nature to me. I’ve been through many successes and failures, but I always push through. I’ve persevered through ten years of hard work, starting with learning the basics, to practicing the flowing notes of scales, to now taking on complex seven page compositions where the notes transcend the staff. The process to get there is challenging and tiring, especially since progress isn’t always linear, having moments of no improvement or moments where my skills seem to be declining.

The struggle for motivation is a disorienting roller coaster, one day feeling like I can play everything 20 times, and then the next, having absolutely no motivation to play a single note. It’s also been extremely strenuous, finding time every single day, especially with balancing other responsibilities, such as schoolwork. Thoughts of giving up emerge repeatedly, and I remember one moment vividly, where I broke down and started seriously considering quitting. I felt as if I was drowning in my stress and overwhelming worry, thinking about how much time and effort this hobby takes up, and how it was going to fit with my numerous advanced classes’ work. Even after everything, I knew that I couldn’t give up, especially after I’ve come so far. Now I’m proud of myself when I look back, because it reminds me that I fought through so many struggles, and acquired beneficial qualities from these long years. Piano taught me commitment, discipline, stubbornness, emotional resilience, and helps me take my mind off of things for a little while. All of which have become an integral part of who I am today.

Resilience and determination, as well as the practice of growing from the past, is what makes people human, using your failures as stepping stones that shape what and who you become. To be human doesn’t mean being flawless, rather it means allowing your experiences to strengthen and guide you through continuous self improvement.

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To be human is to struggle, by challenging yourself or by growing through burden and hardship to build character and purpose.

As humans, we only improve through hard work and effort. Growth doesn’t come from comfort. Nothing meaningful comes from sleeping and scrolling at home endlessly, watching as everyone else’s lives, while ours are on pause. J.K. Rowling, the author of Harry Potter, was rejected 12 times until it was accepted, and not only that, she didn’t let her poverty get in the way; she didn’t wait and sulk about her situation; she chose action. The struggle she faced forced her to act, to stride into discomfort when our body says no, and every time we choose action over comfort, it molds who we are and highlights our human nature.

Throughout highschool it clearly shows that the students who study when tired, or train for their sport even though they are exhausted, are the most lively and they appreciate everything in life. That is what truly defines us as human beings; it highlights our values and that humans can do anything to achieve their goals. Additionally, one of the most important people in history, Thomas Edison, is said to have failed 10,000 times before succeeding once; the legacy is shown through the failure and the push to success; without it, we would be nothing.

Struggle isn’t weakness its effort. Someone who never pushes themselves or tries new things may never fail, but they will also never grow. We got to where we are because of the perseverance of our spirits. Humans are dynamic creatures; we are the ones who are willing to take risks and push past comfort to achieve a goal. Life is tough, but the willingness to push ourselves even when it gets difficult is how we and civilization advance and why we are who we are.

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To be human means to carry values and emotions shaped by the places we love that influence how we see the world.

Throughout my entire life, I’ve been going to the Lake of the Ozarks with my family every summer. Our boat has remained docked at Kelly’s Port for the past 18 years. Ever since I was a kid, after days spent on the lake, we would drive the boat back to Kelly’s Port, run down the docks to the very end, and jump into the warm mid-July waters. As my sister and I begged our dad to rate our handstands in the small pool near the office and bathroom, my brothers whipped around the golf carts and brought our overnight bags to the boat. I knew my way around the entire place like the back of my hand by the age of seven, and by eight, I had the bathroom code memorized. Never would I have guessed that the amount of times I showered in that bathroom and smelled that exact gasoline were numbered.

It became a second home to me; as it watched me grow up and change, it remained a steady constant in my life that I never imagined having to give up. When my dad informed us that the company was tearing down the docks to expand the gas station for boats, I didn't think much of it at first. We relocated to a new dock with three different pools overlooking the lake, a nice restaurant nearby, and a gift shop, yet there wasn’t anything about it I liked. Sure, it was more visually appealing, but it was empty. It didn’t hold the memories of my cousins and me, years ago, sitting near the pool with pizza in our hands, laughing until tears fell from our eyes. It didn't see me when I was hopping from foot to foot on the blazing hot concrete with a soaking wet Barbie lifejacket and swimsuit, waiting for my mom to wrap me in the pink striped towel when I was six.

When I was torn from Kelly's Port, I realized I didn’t value the quality of what I had; I valued family, consistency, and a sense of belonging. It was never about what Kelly's Port had to offer; it was about the comfort it brought me to have somewhere to go that felt more than familiar, that held my childhood and stayed the same even when I didn’t. Losing it taught me that it isn’t the place itself that makes us human, but how the places impact our values and shape the past we carry with us moving forward, even when they disappear.

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To be human means to make mistakes, endure the consequences, and apply the new information learned with the goal of personal growth.

My day to day life is spent at home, playing with toys and making messes with them. The sound of my mother calling my name, and the annoyance of hearing the phrase “clean up this mess”, while dragging my feet to the largest toy mountain ever created. Did I ever clean up my mess? No, I constantly avoided the task until it was too late. Until I heard the sound of my full government name being yelled, the words bouncing across the wall and the smell of fear being consumed by my nose. The horror taking over my body, moving each limb one by one, silently dismantling the valley of toys. This is when my eyes were opened to how in life when a choice is made an effect follows, and this can sometimes be consequences.

Cleaning my room was the moment where I persevered through this consequence, ultimately making my day better, happy parents, the clean organized aura of my room, and the sound of relaxing silence dancing throughout the house, combining like music notes to create a beautiful harmony. I had to go through something hard in order to notice and receive the benefits that came along with it.

Growing up dancing has always been my passion, every move made, every facial expression created, and every lyric sung spoke to my heart. One thing dancing does not mix well with is procrastination. I once missed many practices but still wanted to participate. I was sent a video with a week to learn the routine. Days pass and the performance has arrived, but I still haven't learned the dance. I still feel a sense of security with the thought that I can quickly learn dances. I opened the video to see that it's 10 minutes long! My body was taken over by the feeling of distress. I practiced as much as I could until it was time to perform. I walk on stage and only see fear, regret, panic, and worry in the audience. Throughout the dance these audience members transformed into confidence, security, and energy. The sounds of clapping and enthusiastic cheering fuelled my body with the courage I needed. Through this hardship I was reminded why I loved dance and why this was all worth it.

Being human means to endure the good and bad that was constructed from the choices made by you, but what matters most is how you allow these things to shape yourself. When I didn't clean my room the focus wasn't on how I got in trouble for it but how I persevered and did something I struggled to begin in the first place, taking it one step at a time. Don't let the bad things consume you so much to where you can no longer see the the beautiful rainbow that is soon to come after the storm, yet how will you travel though the storm to reach that rainbow and how will you make the pot of gold at the end of that rainbow useful to not only your current satisfaction but your humanity. How can this pot of gold bring you prosperity for years to come?

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Humanity is within us all. It is deep within all of our crooks, grooves, and variations, otherwise known as our flaws.

I recall my innate desire to ‘fit in’ from a young age, akin to all surrounding me. Even before I entered grade school, I strived to replicate my peers, constantly evaluating each of their mannerisms and tendencies. This habit followed me well into middle school, where there was more to compare than just simple actions. Our grades held more significance; our workload piled up; our lives were no longer undemanding. Despite this, I often found the assignments manageable and the tests straightforward; yet, there was seldom a person who fell short of my grades. Typically, a handful of students exceeded my scores, swallowing me in unease and annoyance. There were, however, classes where this issue failed to emerge: I was always a brilliant math student, frequently receiving perfect scores or the highest of each of the classes. Following each test, a point was added to my morale and, eventually, my identity. My identity as a person who enjoys solving quadratic equations but despises the process of photosynthesis. My identity as a person who appreciates colorful landscapes but abhors naming various countries on a map. My identity as a person I accept and honor. Now, as grades are increasingly prevalent, associating my results with those of my peers is simply natural, but my understanding that each of us possesses flaws has expanded along with my praise towards our assets.

My humanity shines every now and again, when I must rush through the hallways, only for the bell to ring moments before I enter class. It is in the two tardies, haunting my perfect attendance. It is in my diligent work, which occasionally fails to attend to the minuscule details, resulting in poor outcomes. It is in my reluctance to begin anything significant in worry of its possible impact. However, it is through these very flaws, which we spare no effort to conceal, that our strengths are illuminated and our weaknesses are ultimately treated as equalizers.

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When I was younger, the world was simple to me. It was a cycle of the happy times that had me optimistic to live out a day in joy, and of the times full of sorrow that had me dreadful for the day ahead of me. And while that cyclical idea still remains true to me, I realized something was very wrong about the way I approached this idea. When I was in my happiest months, I lived and embraced life; I cherished, was present in, and loved every moment of my existence. But then in my worst months, I did nothing but lay in bed all day, wishing after two in the morning that time could just stop for a moment so I could sleep until the worst had passed. And now I realize, looking back at those darker times, that I wasn’t really living. I was simply… existing. I’ve accepted that human life is a rollercoaster of ups and downs, but I was only living half that life; I lived, laughed, smiled, and loved when I was at the top of the ride, but as soon as I dropped to the lowest points, I stopped. Instead, I just waited. I stopped living and I waited till I was back at the top again, to be alive again.

And that was the problem. I let things be the way they were. I was okay with the way things were. I stopped living in those times and I just let it happen. I didn’t think anything I did would change anything. But that isn’t what being human is.

Being human is to embrace every moment of life. It’s to embrace your first day of high school, the time you spent with your best friend, your first love and first kiss, and that unforgettable vacation you went on last summer. But it’s also to embrace graduation and leaving your friends, being alone, experiencing loss and heartbreak, and spending your spring break stuck at home while others went to Europe. Despite all, you embrace, let go, then continue forward. Life is a rollercoaster, but when you're in the valleys, you don’t just give up and stop living. Instead, you try to change your mindset and situation, and you don’t give up. That’s what living life to its fullest is.

So now when I’m at my lowest, I stop moping. I stop letting myself be miserable and I try to find happiness through small things. I find joy through my family, fulfillment through study, serenity through autumn leaves, understanding through music, and comfort through prayer. Most importantly, I don’t give up. Even if I only wake up with the energy to make small talk with my brother about a TV series, I’ll do that. I stay consistent in my efforts and gradually, although I may still not feel the same bubbly energy I’ve had in better days, I go to sleep feeling content. And as long as I continue to give it my all everyday, regardless of where I’m at in the rollercoaster of life, I’m sure I can be human for the rest of my time on Earth.

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To be human means to experience life to its fullest extent.

Ever since I was young, I could never make up my mind on what I truly wanted to achieve. My mother pulled me in one direction while my sister advised me to take another course. Throughout this endless tug of war, decisions were never purely mine; truths such as these are universal. The food I ate for dinner, the backpack I picked out of school, and even my favorite color are all fragments reflecting the guidance that I received. What came easily, however, was simply existing in a world of my own, shielded from the weight of expectations.

Life is full of fleeting experiences that appear to disappear at first touch; just as no snowflake is identical, no one holds the same perspective on emotion. Carpe diem; finding joy in life comes not from making the correct decision, but rather the one that resonates within your heart. Piercing your ears on a seemingly random summer day is an objectively unwise verdict, yet it is events such as these that mold us into who we are. Every “meow” you hear from your cat, every FaceTime call with your closest friends, and every struggle with schoolwork is a memory that you will smile on regardless of the emotions you felt during that experience. It is simply born into our brains to yearn for the past and ponder the “what if” moments of our lives.

This past summer, I had the opportunity to reconnect with a friend whom I had not seen in person for five years. The time spent apart from each other was cemented in our relationship, leaving indelible cracks despite all the conversations we shared online. No amount of TikToks can replace real laughter. From the moment I saw her face-- almost that of a stranger’s-- maroon regret panged inside of me as if taunting me with memories of the past. Neither of our lives were intertwined after such a long time, and despite our best efforts, they never would truly be connected in the same manner as before. Friends are allowed to grow apart, but it is ultimately our decision to allow that to occur.

From the moment you form your first friendship at school and extend your heart out to someone new, you are changed. Every breath you take is a new opportunity waiting to be seized. Memories cascade into your brain; though very few appear gilded, all are a melody that sings until nostalgia coats them in bittersweet. Take advantage of every opportunity that is bestowed upon you, for they are blessings waiting for your grasp.

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One quality that defines a human is the ability to keep going even when life hurts.

Even when the world seems to be against you, pushing you away from what you believe is your goal. Never turn away from your mistakes or challenges; learn to use them and reap the knowledge you get from your shortcomings. Those who give up quickly gain nothing in return; to get better means you learn from rough times and thrive through success.

A good example is the Wright brothers. For a long time, Orville and Wilbur Wright kept failing in their attempt to make a flying machine. Their gliders kept on crashing, the calculations they made were wrong, and a lot of people thought human flight was unachievable. However, the two of them did not give up; they learned from each failure and kept on moving forward with their designs. They flew their planes over and over again, learning from each error. In 1903, after many difficulties, the Wright brothers successfully made the first powered flight. They continued to learn from their failures and found a way to use them to achieve their goal. Their success is proof that going through failure repeatedly does not mean losing but rather moving forward, as long as one perseveres.

In a show called Gurren Laggan, the plot revolves around the idea that “to grow means we evolve beyond the person we were a minute before. Little by little, we advance a bit further with each step.” It doesn't mean that just because we are faced with adversity, we crumble. Getting back up matters more than the fall. Understand the challenges of this world, and don't regret anything now or ever again. True growth comes from patients more than strength. Some days, moving forward just means not giving up, and that's okay. Always remember that setbacks don't erase progress; they sharpen and tone it. Difficult challenges aren't meant to be done easily; you're meant to come out wiser, more stable, and more sure of who you really are, even when the path ahead isn’t clear. That is what it means to be human, that is what it means to get up and keep trying.

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To be human means to lose, over and over again, before one can ever truly succeed.

The Indiana University Bloomington football team has 715 all-time losses, the most of any college football team in history. Despite their historic sports programs, such as their iconic basketball team, numerous fans, reporters, and critics have written off any possibility of success for the Hoosiers in football. Before the 2024 season, IU was predicted to finish as low as 90th nationally, which would be a common disappointing season for them. Indiana proved everyone wrong, including most of their fans. Both of my parents went to Indiana University, and my dad had no hopes for the team that year, expecting another subpar season. The team went on to win 11 games, only losing two the whole year. These two losses only fueled them even more. One of their two losses was to the Ohio State Buckeyes, a discouraging defeat for the Hoosiers, but not a surprise to most. With this loss, their record against The Ohio State dropped to 12-81 all-time, one of the worst records against a single team in the sport. Although an 11 and 2 season is astounding for an IU football team, this was not enough for them.

During the 2025 season, the team took the losses to heart and is currently 14-0. They looked back at their loss to Ohio State the past year and worked harder than ever to come away with a win during the 2025 season. This was the first time IU had beaten the Buckeyes since 1988, making it a historic accomplishment. The Hoosiers are (hopefully) on pace to win a national championship, which would be a first for the program. This opportunity is only now possible because of the hundreds of losses they faced, preparing and teaching the team what is necessary to ultimately succeed.

In all parts of my life, through losing elections in my youth group, losing countless games with my lacrosse team, and not doing as well as I would like to in school, losing is an essential part of living. Only after these experiences did I understand how I must work harder in order to win that vice president role I now have, win that tournament this past weekend, and achieve the grades I was striving for last semester.

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To be human is to be connected. To others, to yourself, to the people who came before you, whose lives and experiences led up to yourself.

Throughout my life, I’ve continuously experienced my Mum's voice ringing from the kitchen, “Come say hello to Auntie!” I hated it. I would have to rush downstairs, all for some distant relative who I didn’t even know? I would open the kitchen door, the humid air of the kitchen hitting me, the spices of whatever my Mum was cooking dancing across my nose. A phone would be stuck in my face and I would have to hesitantly wave hello to whatever cousin, uncle or auntie was on the phone. I’d speak in the best French I could manage and they’d reply back in a broken mix of English, French and Lingala that I would try my best to understand. There was always a barrier, always something that got lost in the translation. A disconnect.

English. French. Lingala. Swahili. Kikongo. Sign Language. My house has always been filled with a cacophony of sound. Switching to one and then the other. To have my parents switch when they didn’t want us to hear what they were saying. My day was always filled with a colourful mix of languages that rang throughout my head, I had always wished for an escape. A moment of silence. A disconnect.

I had always envied my brother in one aspect: his ability to disconnect from the noise that plagued my life. He would pause his connection to the outside world at will, simply taking off the devices that provided him with his one connection to sound. We’d have to communicate through brisk signs, our fingers dancing through the air. I continued to envy my brother up until one moment in my life. I would watch my brother travel throughout life and try his best to communicate with others. Their eyes would glance towards me, “What did he say?” their faces painted in quiet confusion. They would try their best to understand, eventually give up and just nod their heads, pretending to understand what he was saying. My brother would smile and we would walk away, signing rapidly, “What did they say? I didn’t understand.” he would sign. There was a barrier. A misunderstanding. A disconnect.

For the first time in my life I realised, the disconnect I had longed for didn’t seem all that great anymore. The disconnect that I envied was something that hindered my brother so much. I realised that my connections are what make me, me. The spices of the food my Mum cooked connected me back to her home, her origins, the many languages that walked the halls of my house gave me a glimpse into the lives of my many relatives and how they communicated. A way to connect. I realised the many ways in which I am connected: through my friends, through my family, even to the wider world. But most importantly I realised the value of these connections, how when those who are most vulnerable in our society face a disconnect, they end up suffering. We lose their contributions, their talents, the love and light they could have brought to society if only they were connected.

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I type on this Chromebook now, trying to find an idea or a motivation that would still stick in my mind if I wasn’t me; if I was everyone but me. I don’t know what it’s like to be anyone but myself, even though I was always curious. Off of the top of my head, I remember that my dad, who would usually have an answer for my questions and a question that I didn’t have an answer for myself, bewildered me more than I would like to admit, and I would sometimes sit deep in concentration trying to understand his mind - to try and map mine over it, or mold mine in the same shape so I could figure out how math came to him so easily. I remember waiting for a sandwich with him as I wondered why both the steel plate of the counter and the stainless steel I had seen before was indented with a particular grid of X’s, and looked over to him and wondered what he was thinking about, what his mind went to first in the shop. That was years ago, and I still remember it and how I spent the car ride home completely absorbed in thought. That concept - of wanting to understand, to always know more, whatever the reason or subject may be - I see it every day, non-stop, in the people I see, in the car I ride to school and each car I see in the parking lot, in every device and every facet of human life. My dad’s car exists because humanity was not satisfied with carriages, and I’m drinking a glass of tap water because we did not stop at wells. Humans will never stop trying to wrap our heads around new things. Some people I know find their meaning in understanding themselves, some in understanding the ins and outs of their sport, or their favorite book, or their favorite subject, and before all of that, most people want to understand others, want others to understand them; they want it more than anything else.

If I was describing this idea as anyone else on Earth, the words would change, I’m sure, but the concept would sound the same in the words of a girl in squalor in Yemen, the dissertation of a lonely man from the University of Santiago, or the diary of a woman who lives her whole life bedridden in Brantford, because curiosity is an omnipresent drive; it’s the mortar that holds together both every human and the edifice of humanity itself. Each year we wisen, mature and become more experienced: each year we add bricks. But we have to put on the mortar first.

In life’s initial years, we’re only aware of ourselves; we only care for ourselves. Babies don’t care if their crying irritates you, their focus is on the fact that they’re not being fed. But their focus eventually branches out. Always wanting to learn - wanting to understand other people or foreign concepts - ages you just as much as physically growing. Curiosity is both the car driving you further and further out from your mind as a toddler and the common thread that connects you to it. Eventually, that thread will link you to the minds of everyone else as well.

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Being human means experiencing life through perseverance during difficult times.

Out of all the creatures on planet Earth, humans are the only ones who have developed a civilization connecting the world. Scientifically, humans are classified as animals, along with dogs, cats, birds, and other animals. Demonstrating how humanity had no natural advantage in building a civilization, the key factor leading to our technology was human perseverance. If humans gave up whenever something was challenging, humanity as a whole would never reach the place it is at right now, exploring space and Earth, learning about our habitat, and using those resources to advance human technology further.

I was around the age of five or six when I was building my first LEGO set. I always remembered how other kids in kindergarten bragged about building LEGO sets and playing with LEGOs. So eventually I got one. I had trouble at first, building the model made my fingers burn, and my frustration started to boil whenever I didn’t install a piece correctly. I eventually stopped and focused on something else, which at last calmed me down and made me forget about the whole struggle with little plastic bricks. However, I came back filled with determination to finish building the LEGO treehouse, and I used that determination to push myself to finally complete the LEGO set. I went straight to my parents after finishing the build, filled with pride and joy. Throughout the construction of the creation, I definitely thought about giving up, however, the human will to finish something you started was present, and finally pushed me through to complete the treehouse.

Now that I am older and still like LEGO sets, I use that key moment in my life to help me attach this piece to the next and so on. The perseverance I demonstrated to complete my first LEGO set was all about adding each piece little by little, creeping closer to attaching the last piece to the construction. When that happened, I had that feeling of accomplishment and relief, and to finally hear the click of the last piece, and the tip of my fingers no longer numb, seeing the colorful blocks all bunched up together to create a masterpiece, was the entire reason I built the set. That LEGO model becomes more than a toy after construction. Now it represents how humanity endures, to eventually grow. In the same way, humanity built human civilization one idea at a time, demonstrating perseverance.

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To be human means to create dreams and aspirations, giving purpose to our actions and providing hope for our futures.

Dreams shape the way we see the world and influence the choices we make every day. They give us something to look forward to and something to work toward, even when life feels overwhelming or uncertain. Without dreams, it would be difficult to find meaning in our struggles or motivation to push forward.

In the future, I dream of being a captain on my field hockey team, leading my teammates and working together toward a shared goal. I dream of making varsity lacrosse and getting to play alongside my friends, creating memories that will stay with me after the season ends. I dream of attending a good college and challenging myself academically, knowing that hard work and dedication will open doors to more opportunities. I also dream of traveling the world and experiencing many different cultures and gaining a deeper understanding of people. I dream of getting a good job that allows me to support myself and build a stable future. Most importantly, I dream of retiring my parents and giving back to them for all of the sacrifices they have made for me. These dreams are not just goals, but instead, they are reflections of who I am and who I hope to become.

My aspirations are what play through my mind on repeat, especially during difficult moments. They push me to keep going when school feels stressful or when obstacles seem impossible to overcome. Who you want to be matters because it motivates you to strive toward your goals and make choices that align with your future. From something as small as wishing for a Christmas gift to working towards a dream job, the desire to achieve gives us motivation and direction. That motivation helps us overcome hardships, persevere through challenges, and grow stronger along the way. Ultimately, this constant pursuit of our dreams and the determination to become our best selves is what defines the true human experience.

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To many, being human reflects the art of exploring curiosity. There is no better example of this concept in our world than with our youth. When you compare them to the older more experienced members of our society, a stark divide becomes all the more present.

Children are often seen as the most 'human' people in our society. This conception originates from the notion that they are pure and unadulterated, bared from the dehumanizing aspects of our world that more experienced generations have come to toe with. These Children are oftentimes characterized by their care-free and exploratory personalities. They strive to not complete an assignment or show up for their 9-5, but instead to experience new things.

When I was younger, Vacations seemed so magical and special; like an escape from the world. Now however, they feel spoiled by the reality that I have to return back to my daily slog once they conclude. In this case, I have lost a part of my humanity, almost like it has been stripped and stolen from me. I no longer possess the curious drive and passion that I once had when I was younger. This represents how our world is built around standardization and conformity, which is where our humanity is lost.

This paves the way for a larger discussion on whether our society is breaking away from its humanity. Siding with a more refined and systematic culture, rather than the nonconformist and exploratory nature that many associate with being human. It becomes apparent that as our access to technology like AI and other services that provide anything we need upon request increases, we lose that drive and curiosity for figuring out the unknown. This goes to show how we, as a society, are starting to part ways with our humanity, in favor of conformity.

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Being human means to feel emotions.

Being human means forming connections. Making friends and enemies and lifelong companions. Having people to turn to when life gets a bit too much. Creating memories with those you cherish most, those who are always on your side, ready to fight,  from your past to your future. From the dawn of life to the dusk of goodbyes. Maybe even beyond?

Being human comes with emotion: anger at those who wronged you; admiration for your best friends; the joy in your eyes when you reunite with someone you haven’t seen over the weekend; pure magic in having someone who knows you better than anyone else and keeping that magic all for yourself; pure magic in knowing them better than anyone else, too. The bonds with classmates and acquaintances you rarely see, outside of the one class you have together, yet somehow they know everything about you, and you know everything about them.

Being human means falling in love and falling apart. Sometimes you end up pushing people away or leaving a friend in the dark. Making mistakes and having regrets, but knowing it’ll get better someday. (even if it’s just better in the alternate universe you created in your mind for this precise moment)

Being human means laughing at jokes that aren’t really all that funny, or laughing so hard you start to cry, or forcing a laugh to follow the crowd, or laughing at your own little missteps and mistakes. And knowing that sometimes people laugh at you, and sometimes people laugh with you. (and you sometimes laugh at people, or with people)

Being human means admitting when you're wrong, and something has gone too far. And admitting you’d do anything to repair the relationship that could never stay whole. Writing your feelings into melodies and harmonies that you never share because it's better than saying them out loud. Whether the weather outside is stormy, clear, or starry Milky Ways.

Being human means finding solace and similarities with musicians and celebrities you’re never ever gonna meet, but somehow, through Spotify, their music sometimes sounds like they’re narrating YOUR life. But it’s just an idea you fabricated (again).

Being human is learning and knowing, and growing. Learning the types of people to avoid as easily as you learned every word to every song from your favorite artist. Knowing when to leave just like knowing every song by your second-favorite artist (and you can name all of them in less than 15 minutes!) Growing into a better you, like your little cactus plant is growing upstairs in your house.

Being human means to feel emotions. To experience the whole spectrum of emotion. The whole Inside Out cast, and more. There's so much left in store.

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To be human means to create. It means being inspired by those who came before you, from great artists of the past to family members and friends of the present. To look at them and feel an urge to do the same as they did. It’s starting a project in a rush, without all the supplies, because the idea poking at you just needs somewhere to go. It’s stepping back to stare at a piece you’re proud of, but it’s also accepting when something’s gone wrong.

At the end of the day, maybe your creative pursuit turned out as nothing but a learning experience. Maybe the shirt you sewed is too tight, and maybe the skirt you were crocheting ended up way too ruffly, causing you to have to frog it. But in every skirt that fits a bit weird and scrapped painting, there are countless lessons. A technique you learned, a tutorial you googled, something found out by simply trying turns every drawing with skewed proportions into a chance at improvement. Mistakes and scrapped ideas are how the greats of the past became known. For every ‘Birth of Venus’, there were countless scrapped pages, drawings, ideas, maybe even a painting that was started before Botticelli realized something vital was wrong.

Being human is to recognize that the things you make are not perfect, but it is also in recognizing that they don’t have to be. That place where you skipped a stitch on accident or an imperfectly-cut panel gives pieces life. It animates them and makes them feel human-made, ultimately giving them more character than anything perfect. And to be human is to keep working, even when everything seems to contain a mistake. The more you work at it, continuing to hone your craft, the easier it will become. Your results will be smoother, and your mistakes will become farther apart. But things will inevitably go wrong. And when they do, it is important to give yourself the grace you gave yourself when you were beginning. Even the old masters made errors, and the acceptance you put forth today may be what motivates you to create tomorrow.

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To be human means to be understanding and empathetic, where we share others' emotions, listen without judgment, and respond compassionately even when we don't agree or feel like we understand.

The days at LEAD spent sitting in intimidating classrooms and exciting campuses are where I began to truly understand the true importance of empathy. I remember sitting in a circle of scary, unfamiliar faces, the bright lights illuminating our apprehension, and the dreary exhaustion that weighed over us after engaging in deep conversation for so long. At first, everyone spoke carefully, unsure of how much to share and who to trust. As days passed, our voices grew more and more confident. The nervous laughter that preceded sharing a sensitive opinion slowly began to multiply as the room started to feel warmer. It was there that I learned that listening without judgment can be just as powerful as talking.

LEAD STL taught me that empathy lives in the small moments; an emotional nod of understanding, a shared laugh after awkward silence, and the courage it takes to share your true opinion without hurting others. I began to recognize the weighted emotion behind my facilitator's words and understand the plastered-on smile used to hide all of the traumatic experiences.

That understanding deepened when we visited the Holocaust Museum and later went to downtown St. Louis to learn about the Delmar Divide. Inside the museum, the walls were heavy and quiet, lined with photographs and unpleasant realities that altered my thought process. The room was full of unfamiliar faces; however, I still seemed to mourn them like they were my close friend. Each display deepened my understanding of how easily people can be dehumanized when all empathy is abandoned. When we went to the city, the divide was jarring. The unbalance of homes, hospitals, and the unfairness of opportunities for education was subtle at first, then grew more unsettling as we walked more and more. It was truly terrifying to realize how horrifying the world gets when all compassion is thrown away.

This is where I learned that empathy requires courage. It means allowing yourself to be vulnerable and giving others the same opportunity to do the same. These experiences reshaped how I see the world and understand the people in it. To be human is to listen, to understand, and respond accordingly. The lessons and the stories I saw at LEAD have lived with me and shaped how I grow long after those days ended.

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To be human means to find ourselves in community, where connections and friendships cast light on life and root us in something bigger than ourselves.

I was 5 when I started to dance. I was surrounded by older kids, who constantly made me feel like, because I was young, I had not earned the right to be in their class. They would never include me in anything: from planning the dance, to talking after class, to even just acknowledging that I existed. Sitting backstage before a performance, I had no one to talk to. Everyone was laughing and smiling with each other, and there I was: sitting in the corner of a dressing room, looking at my unrecognizable face in the mirror, plastered with makeup, with the only real thing staring back at me being a blank stare. A stare of isolation, rejection, and questioning if I was not enough or too much, and that is why no one ever spoke to me. The bright dressing room lights were harsh against my watery eyes, but even the light could not brighten the darkness of that room; just as the Sun cannot light up the sky during an eclipse. There I was, a ghost to everyone, haunting a gloomy and dusty corner.

After years of living in this dark corner, someone finally noticed me. She was years older than me, yet despite all her friends ignoring and disregarding me, she started including me in everything. She was the one who took me under her wing and brought me into the bright world that dance could be: with friends, support, a voice, and a radiant community. The eclipse had come to an end, and the Sun began to beam on the cold Earth. The lights in the dressing room now blurred as my vision teared up from laughing too much, almost ruining my glowing makeup.

This introduction into a bigger community than myself has led me to never feel the loneliness I once felt again. I have built lasting friendships and connections that once seemed unattainable. The immersion in this complex, culturally rich, and intricate community has made me feel like I was part of something bigger than myself; that I actually belonged somewhere where I could thrive and enjoy the beauty that life has to offer. The happiness, pain, sadness, anger, victories, and failures that I face as a dancer were now shared with others instead of bottled up and reflected back at my blank stare.

That young and lonely girl has now become the older girl to welcome the younger dancers, who take hold of their hand to show them the lively and sparkling world dance can be. It has become her goal to build and strengthen communities both within and outside of dance. She wishes to carry the legacy with the same kindness and humility that she was treated with so many years ago, never forgetting the difference friends and community can make.

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To be human means to remember your roots, where you came from and what helped shaped you.

The summers at Orange Public Library with a stack of books, the giant paper mache dinosaur glaring at me from the young adult section, the cars whizzing past outside on busy Chapman Avenue: it's where I became a reader. Twilight at the Villa Park High School pool, the sound of arms and legs slapping the water, the smells of my latex cap and baby powder, chlorine and jasmine permeating the night air: it's where I learned I was good at something. The Spanish tile at Islands Restaurant, Hawaiian shirts and french fries, spilled ketchup and broken glass, late nights and second jobs to help pay for school: it's where I learned how to work hard for things that matter.

As the hazy memories of a childhood fade, it is easy to disregard the early years, to file our experiences away, to ignore the significance of our past. We live our lives in the present, and in reality, that's exactly how we should live. But the truth is that we are the sum of all of our parts. The places and people of our youth are as important as the things we become, even if you grow up and move 1800 miles away. Even if your past is something you want to forget, it plays an important role in cultivating your character.

I am the Orange Public Library, the Villa Park High School Pool, and Islands Restaurant on Tustin Avenue. I am chlorine streaked hair and spilled ketchup and the giant paper mache dinosaur. Being human means, like it or not, to live with all of the various pieces of who I have ever been and finding a way to realize the profundity of those things, no matter how small or how far away.