Prompt* (See end of essay for notes): Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story. (There is an option on the commonapp to provide a prompt of your own, so if this essay doesn't really fit this prompt I can just make my own prompt that fits it better)
I returned home to the familiar atmosphere of anger in the air. As I lay in my bed, waiting for the night consume the room, I could sense the vitriol seeping through my bedroom door. Beyond that boundary, a battle between ferocious beasts may as well have been taking place. My parents' words were nearly tangible--their presence as vivid and absolute as the darkness. The house shook from the weight of their fury. Each day, I slipped into dream, anxious for the light of sunrise.
My father drove out of the driveway, his left hand waving goodbye to his family standing in the doorway. In his absence, he became public enemy number one. I, his only successor, was forced to bear the weight of the conflict he left behind. For a time, I was my mother's doll. At first, I was happy to comply. Anything to please her. She would buy clothes for me and dress me up. She always wanted me to be a doctor. She was protective of my hair and meticulously styled it each morning. She told me her worries and fears. Everyone considered me to be so mature for my age, and I hated it. I felt fake--less of a doll and more of a marionette--but I couldn't tell anyone that.
I started to recognize my mental scars. Like looking at an open sore, I couldn't help but wince and look away from them. They were left unacknowledged. Untreated. Without medication they festered. Soon enough the pain was unbearable and I began to act out. I was met with harsh retaliation that worsened the more I fought back.
A push. A scream. A bark. Sounds swirling in my head as the adrenaline in my blood took over my limbs. My feet scrambled across the floor. My arms flailed and darted toward my clothes, my money, my shoes. Within minutes I flew out of the house into the blinding summer sun. Behind me, an unforgiving and impending doom kept sealed by a fortified door. Before me, an expanse of silent asphalt and adobe. I sat between those two worlds, on the lonely porch, fearful for my life.
"I'll only be a few minutes," I told myself. I lugged my heavy legs past the garage door and took the first steps out of our cul de sac with nearly as much trepidation as I had experienced earlier. But I couldn't go back. Not immediately, anyway. My heart still ached with the sting of betrayal. It was not the first time I had experienced this feeling, but this time, hopelessness overwhelmed my senses.
"Just give up. Why defend yourself anymore? You're just making it worse."
The thought of going back repulsed me. I wanted time to stop. What was there to look forward to? I looked to the sky, the trees, the ground for an answer. I reminisced about how much I enjoyed taking in scenery. The gentle breeze and sway of the trees calmed my nerves as cars whizzed by. What kinds of lives were the drivers leading? I thought about my future--the way I wanted it. It was then that I decided that it was my responsibility to determine where I was headed.
I followed the weathered sidewalk back to the cul de sack. Back to the entrance to my bright yellow prison. In the quiet of my room, I embraced my dog and quickly returned to life as usual. I could still remember the pain I had felt that day, yet my dreams for the future carried me forward.
*My intention with this essay was to demonstrate my ability to encourage the viewer to empathise with a story by providing vivid descriptions of an experience I had. I tried to make this more focused and personal, as opposed to my last essay which was messy and closed off. My primary concern is that I might scare the admissions officers off with this story. I don't want them to the idea that I will be a problem in college but I felt that this issue was essential to my identity. I'd be okay with writing about a different topic, however, so if it is the case that this sounds more like a sob story/too personal for an admissions essay, please let me know. Do you believe that this story says a lot about my character?
a story and issue essential to my identity
I returned home to the familiar atmosphere of anger in the air. As I lay in my bed, waiting for the night consume the room, I could sense the vitriol seeping through my bedroom door. Beyond that boundary, a battle between ferocious beasts may as well have been taking place. My parents' words were nearly tangible--their presence as vivid and absolute as the darkness. The house shook from the weight of their fury. Each day, I slipped into dream, anxious for the light of sunrise.
My father drove out of the driveway, his left hand waving goodbye to his family standing in the doorway. In his absence, he became public enemy number one. I, his only successor, was forced to bear the weight of the conflict he left behind. For a time, I was my mother's doll. At first, I was happy to comply. Anything to please her. She would buy clothes for me and dress me up. She always wanted me to be a doctor. She was protective of my hair and meticulously styled it each morning. She told me her worries and fears. Everyone considered me to be so mature for my age, and I hated it. I felt fake--less of a doll and more of a marionette--but I couldn't tell anyone that.
I started to recognize my mental scars. Like looking at an open sore, I couldn't help but wince and look away from them. They were left unacknowledged. Untreated. Without medication they festered. Soon enough the pain was unbearable and I began to act out. I was met with harsh retaliation that worsened the more I fought back.
A push. A scream. A bark. Sounds swirling in my head as the adrenaline in my blood took over my limbs. My feet scrambled across the floor. My arms flailed and darted toward my clothes, my money, my shoes. Within minutes I flew out of the house into the blinding summer sun. Behind me, an unforgiving and impending doom kept sealed by a fortified door. Before me, an expanse of silent asphalt and adobe. I sat between those two worlds, on the lonely porch, fearful for my life.
"I'll only be a few minutes," I told myself. I lugged my heavy legs past the garage door and took the first steps out of our cul de sac with nearly as much trepidation as I had experienced earlier. But I couldn't go back. Not immediately, anyway. My heart still ached with the sting of betrayal. It was not the first time I had experienced this feeling, but this time, hopelessness overwhelmed my senses.
"Just give up. Why defend yourself anymore? You're just making it worse."
The thought of going back repulsed me. I wanted time to stop. What was there to look forward to? I looked to the sky, the trees, the ground for an answer. I reminisced about how much I enjoyed taking in scenery. The gentle breeze and sway of the trees calmed my nerves as cars whizzed by. What kinds of lives were the drivers leading? I thought about my future--the way I wanted it. It was then that I decided that it was my responsibility to determine where I was headed.
I followed the weathered sidewalk back to the cul de sack. Back to the entrance to my bright yellow prison. In the quiet of my room, I embraced my dog and quickly returned to life as usual. I could still remember the pain I had felt that day, yet my dreams for the future carried me forward.
*My intention with this essay was to demonstrate my ability to encourage the viewer to empathise with a story by providing vivid descriptions of an experience I had. I tried to make this more focused and personal, as opposed to my last essay which was messy and closed off. My primary concern is that I might scare the admissions officers off with this story. I don't want them to the idea that I will be a problem in college but I felt that this issue was essential to my identity. I'd be okay with writing about a different topic, however, so if it is the case that this sounds more like a sob story/too personal for an admissions essay, please let me know. Do you believe that this story says a lot about my character?