I have always loved the echo of laughter. When I was a little girl with an eyepatch and Dora haircut, I used humor as an outlet. Now, as a young adult entering the real world with a semi-better haircut and Harry Potter glasses; I find myself grasping to a comical release. I have never been the popular girl and I don’t think I will ever be, but that’s what makes me, me.

I’m not here to complain about my struggles, or my family’s because let’s face it; we all have them, it’s called life. I’ve gained my sense of humor from these conflicts : not knowing what to order off of Chick Fil A's menu, dropping the bar of soap square on my toe, worrying about money, or struggles out of my control, such as losing a loved one.

This past December, my Grandpa died from Congestive Heart Failure. As an artist, my world was uprooted and my emotions turned array. My Grandpa, although you’ll never get to meet him, was the most stubborn man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He had a huge head, probably the size of a basketball. I have the honor of having this same giant head. He also used to dye his hair jet black and dry it in the oven. He was pretty old school, stubborn as hell, but boy, did that man know how to laugh. When he passed away, I found thousands of family photos stashed away in his closet, and every photo had one thing in common : his smile. At a time when I felt darkness envelop my heart, I was forced to remember how he would want me to live, deeply and simply, with laughter following me everywhere I go. He lived off of the simplicities in life and prospered in a country he came to at my age. He taught me that life isn’t about the struggle, it’s about the raw nature of happiness and embracing your big head.

As I embark on the next chapter of conflicts, otherwise known as my college education, I take with me the only thing I’ve ever known, laughter.