College never seemed like a possibility until it did. It more 10x more likely for me to end up in jail, 71% more likely to drop out. 50% more likely to end up pregnant. And even less likely to end up graduating from high school. I was never supposed to make it to college. When looking at these statistics and thinking about how people ask me what I expected when I went to college, what I think is, I was never supposed to be here. I was supposed to be another statistic. A teen mom. A felon, or even worse, dead. No statistic ever showed me that there was a correction between me and higher education. No signs of a future. Especially when you combine this information with that fact that I’m a foster child, who doesn't know her father. The odds were stacked against me. So, when people ask me, “why didn’t you prepare for college? You knew how expensive it was.” But that's not my truth. I didn’t know anything about higher education. What I knew is that it was my ONLY opportunity to do better, to build a better life for myself, my ONLY opportunity to stand in face of those odds and prove to myself that I was better. So, I worked. In high school, I was tired, angry, lonely, empty, but I worked. I participated in everything that I possibly could. I came before and after school to get help with assignments. I started working harder in areas I knew I struggled in, such as math and science. I looked for opportunities outside of school. I volunteered at church, did hope walks, organized food drives. I spent my summers working with After School Matters and One Summer Chicago. I worked at summer camps during the summers and worked elections during the school year. I worked for the money I needed to pay for SAT books, online resources, and tutoring. So, no. I didn't expect to go to college, but I worked desperately and frantically to make sure that I would have the best opportunity possible for getting into a good school. I didn’t know about FAFSA, taxes, or loans. I knew that I was smart, that my education was the only thing that has ever been mine, and that I had to do something. I applied to colleges, wrote essays, and applied for grants and scholarships. It didn't seem real until I was standing over 12+ acceptance letters, including one from my dream school, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. I had done it. Scared, alone, broke and broken...I had done what I was never supposed to. On May 2, national decision day, It became real. My commitment to my school and to myself. It was everything I wanted. As move in day approached, I was still frantic, scared, and alone. I would be coming to college alone. No support system. No savings. No loving mother or father. No love. No direction. I had my dreams and a scholarship. Nothing prepared an African-American, 1sr-generation, low-income, foster child to come to college during a global pandemic and doing it alone. School has not been easy. Life has not been kind. I have barely been living and I am also barely surviving and that is why I’m here because I need the help. I haven’t been doing okay at all. I have been struggling to stay afloat and I don’t know what to do. I struggle with essential things like food and clothes for the upcoming winter, paying for university break housing and books for school. Absolutely anything you can give will help.