Portrait of a Change Anonymous

Suspended on the wall of my fatherâs office is a photograph of someone I once knew well yet now barely recognize, a girl with a thick mane of platinum hair and a bronze, painted face. Images of this girl dance through my memory whenever my eyes fall on the picture. I recall the doctrine to which she strictly adhered throughout her first year of high school: natural scholastic ability would serve in place of studying, something done only by ânerds.â? Most of her time was spent socializing, for she was always eager to be well-liked and to have fun; yet I remember how that desire for acceptance often overshadowed her judgment, such as when she accepted a ride with a drunk driver because she was afraid refusing would alienate him. As confident as she may have appeared on the surface, in reality she did not respect her own beliefs, listen to her feelings, or deeply value her life. Looking at her photograph, it is hard for me to believe I was once that person. My transformation from this confused girl into who I am today has been greatly influenced by my experiences in the fine arts.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved to perform and write, but it was not until the summer following my Sophomore year in high school that I felt...