When I realized the brink of adulthood was approaching, the first thing I wanted to do was buy a cupcake.It wouldn’t be hard, in my current living arrangement. Since I live on a college campus, many stores, restaurants, and libraries are a short walk away from my dorm. One happens to be a place called Molly’s Cupcakes.

I don’t remember when my parents first got a membership for the Austin Public Library. I only knew that my father always brought along the plastic card when my siblings and I piled into the car for the fifteen-minute drive.

Last year, over the course of the summer, I became a deep fan of a band called AJR. Though I’d known a few of their songs since middle school, I had never delved deep into their music. I didn’t know how much I’d grow to love the subject matter they focused on, from the struggle to feel creative and unique, the struggle to keep up with fans’ ever-ballooning expectations of their music, the constant chaos and turmoil of the internet and content surplus, and so much more.

With every passing day, my memories of my childhood fade a little faster. It’s a thought that I wish could be an exaggeration, but with photos, documents, videos, and all other sorts of digital files keeping intricate records of my personality at every stage of life, I have proof that my life is far larger than I remember it being.

From peers, mentors, teachers, and friends, I've often gotten comments on how mature I am for my age. I'm logistical when delegating tasks or work, realistic when reflecting on my progress in mental and physical health, determined to fulfill a future career path, and very good at offering advice to those in personal conflicts.