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To all of our enemies: We will destroy you

Ha We’re kidding Seriously We won’t destroy you We hate confrontation

We’re, like, the epito

How about you just go ahead and like us…?

Please?

We’re really nice girlsTo robots: We think you’re pretty cool, but you guys aren’t, like, going to try to take over the world, are you? Let us knowAvaWhen I was four years old, I wanted to be a cat

A tabby, to be specific So about their sleek lines irl with no siblings—yet—it see of feline friends

At six, I wanted to be Joyce, the lady at my mom’s favorite superroceries I was convinced she snuck Twix bars when no one atching, and I didn’t think she had to listen to a baby cry all day like I did My sister E little bird

By the ti Joyce’s independent lifestyle to thinking babies were kind of cute after all E over her and playing teacher Maybe that was my destiny

It wasn’t until I was eight, however, that I found —art

Painting, to be exact

Secret Tere great and all, but they couldn’t let the pressure of eive me a sense of purpose I’d never felt before With every stroke of the paintbrush, I knew more and more—I wanted to be an artist Not for work or for pleasure or anything with a defined set of lines I wanted to smearthatof cats to back me up

So, I did

From then on, for the last ten years, I’ve almost always had a paintbrush inthings, worked toward the the fruits of all of my dedication realized

Today is my first day at Columbia University as an art major