Library

For me, math is more than just numbers. It's a mode of visualizing movement in action, the synthesis of my imagination and the physical world. When I'm problem-solving, I'm not just generating a string of numbers on paper. I'm picturing the spiral of a rollercoaster, the friction of a waterslide, and the curvature of an asteroid's impending collision with Earth.

I stare into my bathroom mirror as I remove the mask. For the first time, I will attend high school showing my full face. I need to be beautiful, just like the girls on my TikTok feed. I examine each video, searching for the common thread. A hot pink blush gleams on each girl's cheek. Despite the stark contrast between my pale Irish skin spattered with freckles and that of the sun-kissed influencers, I race to Target to search for the infamous Revlon Insta-Blush which comes in stick form, making it foolproof. Or, so I thought.

The concept of balance guides me through life. At heart I am a figure skater. Since early childhood I've learned how to balance on and off the ice rink; to glide though skating routines and busy schedules.

"No le pongas demasiada sal!" My mom, anticipating a bitter taste from the soup, alarmed me. Yet curious like a five-year-old, I felt it was my mission to discover the secrets behind the little white container in front of me. Standing still, making noise at a shake, laid the salt. Deciding to empty half the recipient, my mom and I laughed the second I tasted our alphabet soup. Composed of primarily sodium chloride, salt is a staple for food and culture. At the same time, the element is an equal symbol for health, preservation, and connection. Seen time again in history, salt was a compensation for Roman Empire's soldiers, a source of currency for ancient China, and an exchange in the Gulf Coast from the Olmec people.

Just outlining the coastlines took a month. On the solid, 22-inch by 30-inch sheet of white paper I was working on, I couldn't just press the "undo" button if my highlighter happened to slip.

The morning was a war I could not win with a mane as versatile as mine. On the left side of the quartz battlefield divided in half by my dipping sink lay an array of thick fragrant creams and strong gels to emphasize my natural pattern, moisturize, and eliminate the threat of dryness and frizz; on the other end, cool, sleek metal tools remained ready to heat up and flatten, dizzying sprays of vanilla and lavender aroma ready to defend from heat damage.