Undergraduate / bland sandwich - 'to know about you' Yale supplement [14]

I'd love to know what you guys think of this. It might be a bit too out there.

In this essay, please reflect on something you would like us to know about you that we might not learn from the rest of your application, or on something about which you would like to say more. You may write about anything-from personal experiences or interests to intellectual pursuits

I just made a pretty bland sandwich. I put too much cheese on it and as I heated it, it melted and engulfed the bread. After I finished it up gooily and messily, ma phoned home and told me that they were going out for dinner and wouldn't be back until late and that there are leftover dumplings, fish, and pork all stacked up in the fridge with yogurt on the rails. Usually I like it when they go out. This time, I'm not really sure what I think of it. I like that they're going out, but I've had too much alone time recently and no friends could come over tonight either. Anyways, I decide to go out for a bit. It's not that cold, but still chilly. Not a biting cold, but more of a shrill, pestering cold with wind nipping along its side. So I'm outside and I see cars parked along the streets, but it doesn't seem like anyone's home. My Timbs roll over the tire tracks in the snow imprinting another layer of marks on the weathered road. I keep walking past lifeless houses with impassive cars while wind whistles along punctuating the isolation and finally I'm at a path. I start on it and I look over at a sight I've seen a million times from that spot: downtown. As I'm leaning on one of those candy cane posts marking the beginning of the trail, I see the empty apartments, the busy offices, and the gray towers all covered with sheets of snow. It's Christmas Eve, but I don't think anyone could tell standing where I was standing. No neighbors have decorations up on their gutters, no perky ornaments sprawled on their lawns, no sign of any Christmas. Then I light up a cigarette, and as I'm exhaling, I see a brown rectangular shape nestled in the snow a couple of yards from me. I dismiss it automatically as a wood block from a neighbor's summer renovation and move on. But for once, this kind of instinct is rather loose. I walk back to it and I still can't see it clearly, so I wade into the auguring foot high snow bank on my left. The first steps are fine, lulling me into a sense of security. Then, a couple more steps and I'm almost up to my knees in bristly snow looking at an empty box addressed to a guy five houses down from me. And I'm wondering how many other things that I've let slip of because of these assumptions. I know that seven or eight year old me would have ran right up to it were I unsure of what it was. Seventeen year old me is cool, expressionless, bored. I'm getting older, but that insouciance and vivacity from childhood is evanescing. And there I was, alone, knee high in snow, cigarette in hand, staring at an empty box on Christmas Eve in search of lost time.