I just discovered this website yesterday, and decided to join just now! :)
So, my eyes drooping, running on a 5 Hour Energy Shot, I remembered I had yet to finish my essay for the UF application which is due today. Alas, I spent the past hour and a half writing this. I'd really appreciate any feedback, it was a bit of a sore subject to write about, and I didn't want to come off as cliche, but I decided to just put myself out there for the admissions officers. There was so much more that i wanted to write, but it can't be over 500 words, which was a definite struggle for me.
Thanks!
In the space provided, please write a concise narrative in which you describe a meaningful event, experience or accomplishment in your life and how it will affect your college experience or your contribution to the UF campus community. You may want to reflect on your ideas about student responsibility, academic integrity, campus citizenship or a call to service.
It was that morning, that crushing, crashing, crippling moment where the world stood still, where I sat rigidly atop the dining room chair, knuckles clenched white against the security blanket of the knotty wood, frozen in disbelief, in unimaginable grief. Seas of salt flooded from within, the Pacific streaming down my cheeks, hitting my lips, fastidiously intertwining with my tongue; I drowned in my own pain, my own fear. My mother's words of "carcinoma" and "fifth stage" all seemed to fade grey in the background, a verbal blur of twisted agony and medical terminology; I swallowed down a nagging, choking lump in the back of my throat. I checked the clock, I was late for work; I sat in my car, my hands clutched against the steering wheel, my chest pressed against the horn, collapsed. I felt hopeless, enveloped in a fire of epic proportions, red hot flames licking the ends of my hair, singing the tips of my fingers; I was a mere tree branch in the embers of the hissing heat that is medical mysteries and life's cruelty.
She is a woman of whims, of last minute, of unfiltered words and rash judgments; it has always been a card game of feast or famine. I vowed to never be anything like her, I'd study now, live life later, bite my tongue, smile wide, bury my longing. Yet, despite our differences, she has always been a fortress, the embodiment of mental strength, a pillar of confidence, a cat who always lands on her feet. If she couldn't survive the diagnosis, this ripping, roaring, hurricane of a maternal presence in my life, how could I, a seventeen year old girl with little to offer and a short supply of self-esteem ever carry on? I wanted nothing more than a whisper of reassurance from a higher power, I questioned God; I blamed her sickness on my sins and shortcomings.
In the months that followed, I changed. As I took on the added responsibility of self-sustaining my academic finances, as we moved the summer before my senior year to be closer to the cancer institute, and I gave up all the friendships and familiarity I had acquired the previous twelve months, as my mom underwent invasive surgery and survived the ordeal, I discovered a new found strength, a generous dose of self-confidence, personal reassurance that I could achieve, despite the rain clouds that hung overhead. It is this that I could offer to UF, a leader with drive and ambition and my mother's incredible strength, a nearly eighteen year old girl wiser than her years who now relishes life's little pleasures, a hardworking student accustomed to added responsibilities and the twists and turns of an unpredictable world.
These days, I write what I feel, I say what I think; I worry a little less, laugh a lot more, and vow to live life by my mother's daily words of wisdom, "After all Leah, you only live once."
If you use more words than necessary, the essay loses some of its power:
It was that morning, that In a crushing, crashing, crippling moment where when the world stood still, where I sat rigidly atop the dining room chair, knuckles clenched white against the security blanket of the knotty wood, frozen in disbelief, in unimaginable grief.
Use a hyphen for year-old:
seventeen year-old
very good writing here: short supply of self-esteem ever carry on?
... underwent invasive surgery and survived ---I'm so glad to hear that! I was expecting that this essay would indicated her passing.
the ordeal, I discovered a new found strength, a generous dose of self-confidence, personal reassurance that I could achieve---Your ability to achieve your goals does not depend on her ability to survive cancer. Cancer kills one in four of us, though often not until we are much older, but... it is important that your confidence is not contingent on this or anything else. I like this essay a lot, but it leaves me wondering if you will be able to stay focused even when loved ones do die because of their illnesses.
Good luck in school!! :-)
