mattvroeg
Oct 30, 2008
Undergraduate / Drawing inspiration from Depression - Common App Essay [2]
I'm still trying to work out a strong ending, but I was wondering what everyone's thoughts on the rest of the essay are? I'm really nervous about my essay, so all comments are appreciated!
I have my best friend in a head-lock, and she bites down on my arm, struggling to free herself from my hold long enough to bolt into the woods. I've had to tighten up my grip a few times because she's tall and skinny and can wriggle out of my arms like a slippery fish in your hands. Thankfully no one is around to hear her scream that she wants to kill me. All I can do is endure this until Megan either tires and passes out, or emerges from her dissociative trance and regains some grip on sanity. Not for a while, it seems, as she shows no signs of fatigue. I must wait, feeling as powerless as a mouse in the path of a steam roller.
Nights like this were not uncommon during junior year. In fact, I spent most of my time with Megan, who was diagnosed with manic depression and bipolar disorder. I felt like I needed to watch over her, like I was her guardian and the one thing that kept her from suicide, so it's not suprising that I soon developed depression myself. I put my academics, my family, and my life on hold, doing anything I could to help this girl who was in such dire need. My grades began to fall, and my backpack developed a considerable bulge of old, incomplete homeworks and heavily marked-up tests. I withdrew into my own world and sometimes couldn't even get out of bed. I just didn't care.
I only realized my colossal blunder once Meg was sent away to Silver Hill, a mental hospital in Connecticut. After two weeks of experiencing every possible emotion on the spectrum, I finally managed to clear my head: Everything is for the best. She is in more capable hands. Sure, I'll miss her, but how long could I have kept it up? And my life, which I had completely devoted to her, is in drastic need of renovation. How did I let my grades slip like that? Enough questions; it's time for action. It's mid-April and I still have time to salvage my GPA.
I did everything possible to raise my grades, spending long nights studying and afternoons with my math teacher for extra help. I pulled through the rest of the year and finished with a respectable GPA, yet the lessons I had learned from my experience with Meg and my own depression were far more valuable. I had discovered the art of balance, of elegantly dividing one's time and attention to different priorities.
I'm still trying to work out a strong ending, but I was wondering what everyone's thoughts on the rest of the essay are? I'm really nervous about my essay, so all comments are appreciated!
I have my best friend in a head-lock, and she bites down on my arm, struggling to free herself from my hold long enough to bolt into the woods. I've had to tighten up my grip a few times because she's tall and skinny and can wriggle out of my arms like a slippery fish in your hands. Thankfully no one is around to hear her scream that she wants to kill me. All I can do is endure this until Megan either tires and passes out, or emerges from her dissociative trance and regains some grip on sanity. Not for a while, it seems, as she shows no signs of fatigue. I must wait, feeling as powerless as a mouse in the path of a steam roller.
Nights like this were not uncommon during junior year. In fact, I spent most of my time with Megan, who was diagnosed with manic depression and bipolar disorder. I felt like I needed to watch over her, like I was her guardian and the one thing that kept her from suicide, so it's not suprising that I soon developed depression myself. I put my academics, my family, and my life on hold, doing anything I could to help this girl who was in such dire need. My grades began to fall, and my backpack developed a considerable bulge of old, incomplete homeworks and heavily marked-up tests. I withdrew into my own world and sometimes couldn't even get out of bed. I just didn't care.
I only realized my colossal blunder once Meg was sent away to Silver Hill, a mental hospital in Connecticut. After two weeks of experiencing every possible emotion on the spectrum, I finally managed to clear my head: Everything is for the best. She is in more capable hands. Sure, I'll miss her, but how long could I have kept it up? And my life, which I had completely devoted to her, is in drastic need of renovation. How did I let my grades slip like that? Enough questions; it's time for action. It's mid-April and I still have time to salvage my GPA.
I did everything possible to raise my grades, spending long nights studying and afternoons with my math teacher for extra help. I pulled through the rest of the year and finished with a respectable GPA, yet the lessons I had learned from my experience with Meg and my own depression were far more valuable. I had discovered the art of balance, of elegantly dividing one's time and attention to different priorities.
