Everything was dull. Clouds hung over my head no matter how brightly the sun shone. I had to resist the nearly uncontrollable urge to fall flat on the ground, curl up into the gray hoodie I had been wearing for days, and cry. In eighth grade, it pained me to smile. In eighth grade, I went through one of the worst bouts of major depression I have ever endured.

I have known since middle school that I suffer from depression because I needed to find out what was wrong with me. So I researched all kinds of mental disorders, and what I found was not only the probable biological explanation to what I was feeling, but I discovered a passion too.

I fell into a rabbit hole, and theories, disorders, and research, along with a whole lot of blurry and blank areas was my wonderland. I ached to know more. I needed to know as much as I possibly could know about the human brain and mind and how they interact. I had puzzles with no solutions.

I want to be a postsecondary psychology professor. I not only want to attempt to quench my thirst for knowledge about the brain/mind by doing research, but I also want to share my passion with young adults who also want to know more.