When I was eight years old, I promised myself that I would change the world in some radical way. I’d always been an unusually sensitive and idealistic girl, but unfortunately, I struggled to bring my deeply-cherished daydreams into the realm of reality. In the years to come, my once-quixotic mind grew dark with anxiety, bipolar depression, and heavy self-loathing. After nearly attempting suicide, I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital and started on a long-term treatment plan. When I’d recovered, better equipped with the coping skills needed to help me lead a balanced and healthy life, the desire to change the world burned even hotter in my heart. My personal struggles had opened my eyes to the painful realities of others. I could no longer remain silent; I hungered to be the person to bring hope to the broken.
And so began The Lollipop Project. Valentine’s Day of my sophomore year was nearing, and I decided that the most tangible and effective way to connect with my peers was through food. I attached short, inspirational messages to 300 lollipops and distributed them among my classmates, expecting to pass out maybe half of them by the end of the day. The success was far greater than I had imagined. My fellow students were alight with joy when they saw my lollipops, and the news that I was passing them out spread like wildfire. When I returned home from school that afternoon, I had only an empty bag and a full heart.
Later that year, I decided to pass them out again for a school-wide project. This time, I brought 900 lollipops along with a small pad of paper. I asked students, parents, and teachers to write down words of advice and comfort they might offer to a struggling person. Their responses were honest, vulnerable, and deeply powerful. Reflecting on the project at the end of the day brought tears to my eyes. Through my lollipops, nearly a thousand people had seen the messages of hope I’d so desperately wanted to spread, and dozens had written their own kind words. I’d felt goodness and selflessness pulse throughout my school that day, and I took comfort in knowing that I was not alone in my desire to reach the brokenhearted.
The sensitive, idealistic girl in me has grown up to be a young woman who views changing the world not as a wish, but as a passion. I am now capable of putting my dreams into practice, and my heart aches knowing that there are people out there, lost and desolate, who are in need of the same hope I once felt a terrible lack of. They are my motivation to educate myself so that I have even more opportunities to be a candle — or lollipop — of light in this hungry world.
