I sat deep in the therapist's chair, sinking further into the interior. It's 2016; I’m a 20-year-old frustrated with how my life turned out. The fact didn't change when the therapist diagnosed me with autism and social anxiety after years of believing I had a learning disability.

Regardless, I assumed going to college would answer my questions, but it brought only stress and anxiety. The thoughts of dread seeped into my psyche as I told the therapist,

“I don't feel like I accomplish anything.”

The therapist retorted with the minor achievements I achieved. Her reasoning was correct; the little goals I accomplished matter, but I shouldn’t let them remain insignificant. The therapist's words won't resonate until 2021, after years of compiling suicide and severe stress. New hope came from writing: a subject I struggled with for years. During my years in grade school, my creativity shined and made up for my errors. Since I had an avid imagination, I hoped my writing could breathe life.With my love of music, movies, tv, and video games, I hope my creativity resonates through those topics and I succeed where I failed.