I was raised in a small town north of Boston. I don't know why. I don't know why my soul planted itself in such a beautiful place and I don't think I ever will. I didn't have to write an essay or fill out an application. I was born privileged. There are 7 billion people in this world. Believe it or not, all 7 billion of us have something in common. We didn't get to choose the cards we were dealt.

It's easy to assume that our lives are insignificant. I've heard dozens of men preach that humans are nothing more than tiny specks of dust. These men are idiots. We are all vital to this planet, and we're crucial to this story still in the making.

My life has been a series of choices. I never sat down as a toddler and said, "OK, I'm privileged. What next?" But I've always known. I've always known that acceptance is not enough.

When I turned 16 I immediately started looking for a job. My parents were weary of me adding another commitment to my schedule, especially when I didn't need the money. They were more than willing to support me financially, but something didn't feel right. I was working hard in school, eating somewhat healthy and spending copious amounts of time in rehearsal. I was going through the motions every day without really contributing to the world around me. I began to think, "Just because I can rely on my parents, does that mean I should?"

In July of 2014, I started working at Dunkin Donuts. This was a culture shock. For the first time in my life, I was the minority. The majority of employees were not from my town, and most of them had not been given the many opportunities that I had. My new car, (a gift from my parents), branded with my private, Catholic high school logo, suddenly felt obnoxious.

In time, I realized it didn't matter what my house looked like or what my dad did for a living. I was working. I was waking up at 5 a.m. to make coffee and be screamed at by angry customers in need of caffeine. It was my decision to earn money. It was my decision to prove I am more than my socioeconomic status.

Over the past two years, my job has taught me more than any teacher ever will. I've learned the value of hard work. I know how it feels to hold a paycheck that I've earned. I've made mistakes, fixed them and then made them again. I've seen mothers beg for an extra shift just so they can buy groceries. I've met kind, selfless people who put a smile on their face no matter how bad things are at home. It's not about the money. I don't care about what's going into my bank account. I care about what's going into my heart.

Hard work is priceless. It doesn't matter where we're from. If we play our cards right, we can control where we're going.