Undergraduate / 'WHY I DO NOT WEAR PANTS' - Common App [7]

Am I being to vague? I also have another possible essay but I think this one is more important to me. I know it's not completely done yet..

WHY I DO NOT WEAR PANTS

"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song. You can't believe it.
You were always singing along. It was so easy and the words so sweet. You
can't remember. You try to feel the beat." -Regina Spektor

Blub. After she left, that was the only word I could think of. My mom was still
only a few miles away but I could not find her. As she walked away, I put up a
wall. Each step pounded on the ground reminding me to reinforce my distance. I
refused to lose myself as she so easily left me. Blub embodied what I could not
understand and made a path back to my self. I found myself submerged in the
loss. Deafening emptiness muffled my giggles. I could not remember***. I wanted
to bounce back.

The next step in my recovery was leggings. Sometimes I forget my legs are not
bare when I am wearing ninety-two percent cotton and eight percent spandex. The
intimacy I share with my leggings embodies a tight knit bond. A little beaten up
with a small tear above my left knee, I decided we had a lot in common. They
were free. I was not constrained by the material or by the remnants of my mom.
Flailing about came more easily in leggings, spandex, and yoga pants. My legs
were exempt from any restrictions other than their own physical ability.
Versatility in sitting positions and a clean black sleek look paired together to
establish an invincible force.

The stretchy material gave me the prompt I needed. With my leggings on, I could
hop, skip, and jump anywhere, including back to myself. When my mom went in a
new direction, I found myself unable to adapt to the changed circumstances. I
was stuck in a place of confusion; I could not remember how to move my feet. As
the world around my continued in a steady pace, I found myself unable to move. I
was scattered everywhere and I could not remember how the pieces fit together.
However, through my blurred vision, I pulled on my leggings and was reminded of
a piece of me. My legs initiated the pursuit of my recovery. Pieces began to
snap together.

I found a piece of myself in the giggles that came along with "no pants" (a term
my friends came up with).

After the drama, leggings were a piece of me that I knew were fundamentally
mine. They were apart of me my mom could not take away. No matter what my mom
did I would still be me and leggings were a reminder of that.

I have a confession to make; I miss my mom.

Undergraduate / Common App to Kenyon Vassar and Wesleyan - my relationship with my mom [4]

TOPIC OF YOUR CHOICE

One moment marked the beginning of the end. This was an aching I had never experienced. Her words slashed through me easily as she poked in various areas trying to find my breaking point. One slap was my attempt to halt the vicious cycle. My shaking body conformed the reality of my violent action. Her words intruded upon my normally gentle disposition as she accused me of loving my father more. If only she knew this moment was both a self-fulfilling prophecy and also the beginning of my distrust. My hand encountered her contorted face and this was the death of our relationship. I would spend the next year in my room peeling back my naive layers facing the truth of my mom. The fibers of my umbilical cord had been severed. I slipped into an unconscious state without the central pull that had fostered my growth physically and mentally. She built me into what I had become, so who was I now?

I have spent the last year trying to rebuild myself, sorting through the piles of what had come apart. I lost trust in my mom and any faith I had in myself went along with it. Lies, manipulation, and narcissism were the name of her game, and I did not know how to play. She circled around my innocent mind as I attempted to find my way out of her grasp. I freed myself by sorting through the blur of emotions, events, and truths. I intially believed I would have to rebuild my entire identity. But I discovered hat in actuality, I am not myelf because of my mother. I am much more than petty lies and schemes. I believe in the vital importance of giggles and hugs. I take pride in my left armpit having never grown a single hair. I love Mary Oliver and Nicki Minaj and wish I had both of their aptitudes. I have written down the words of my imagination's dictionary. I love poetry slams and root vegetables. I have full itnentions to skydive as soon as I turn 18. I rediscovered who I am. The frustrating relapse into myself reinforced my aspirations and individuality.