Then:
Fireworks shoot off into the clear night sky. The explosives whistle as they climbed through the air. The earth goes quiet. Out of nowhere, you see blasts of color as the fireworks reach their peak. The red, jewel-toned lights glimmer in the atmosphere and sink into oblivion. That was the day after I was born. I began my life in 1998, the day prior to our nation’s liberation (AKA the 3rd of July). Born half dead, an umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, I started life overcoming the toughest abstract concept of all: death. Also with a strong idea of irony, given that my mother named me “Zoe” which is Greek for life. Although I do not remember that experience, it has affected me greatly, shaping me into who I am, and foreshadowing my passion for helping others conquer suicidal thoughts and mental illness.
I was born into a family of hippies and musical souls. My father, a lifetime rocker with a humorous heart, and my mother, the hippie with the tragic …show more content…
I switched from my original dance studio to The Dance Club Academy of Performing Arts, after my old instructor broke her back. Classes throughout the week and events on the weekend, dance took up all my extra time. If I wasn’t in school I was in the studio practicing for the next recital or competition. Around the same time, I got into playing the guitar. My Dad has played the guitar ever sense I can remember, so when I received my own guitar I was thrilled. Of all the things in my life, one thing I’m most grateful for is that I was lucky enough to be born a musician. This also marked the time that I was obsessed with aircraft. I think my love for aircraft sparked when I realized I lived next to an airport. Though it be a small local one, when the booming sound of a helicopter flew above my house, I can remember running outside in exhilaration. Oddly enough, living by an airport has inspired me to get my pilots license
Fireworks shoot off into the clear night sky. The explosives whistle as they climbed through the air. The earth goes quiet. Out of nowhere, you see blasts of color as the fireworks reach their peak. The red, jewel-toned lights glimmer in the atmosphere and sink into oblivion. That was the day after I was born. I began my life in 1998, the day prior to our nation’s liberation (AKA the 3rd of July). Born half dead, an umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, I started life overcoming the toughest abstract concept of all: death. Also with a strong idea of irony, given that my mother named me “Zoe” which is Greek for life. Although I do not remember that experience, it has affected me greatly, shaping me into who I am, and foreshadowing my passion for helping others conquer suicidal thoughts and mental illness.
I was born into a family of hippies and musical souls. My father, a lifetime rocker with a humorous heart, and my mother, the hippie with the tragic …show more content…
I switched from my original dance studio to The Dance Club Academy of Performing Arts, after my old instructor broke her back. Classes throughout the week and events on the weekend, dance took up all my extra time. If I wasn’t in school I was in the studio practicing for the next recital or competition. Around the same time, I got into playing the guitar. My Dad has played the guitar ever sense I can remember, so when I received my own guitar I was thrilled. Of all the things in my life, one thing I’m most grateful for is that I was lucky enough to be born a musician. This also marked the time that I was obsessed with aircraft. I think my love for aircraft sparked when I realized I lived next to an airport. Though it be a small local one, when the booming sound of a helicopter flew above my house, I can remember running outside in exhilaration. Oddly enough, living by an airport has inspired me to get my pilots license