Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.
The most rough draft you will ever read. Please tear it up and don't hold back! Thank you so much :)
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City lights flash through my eyes as my dad drives faster and faster. The car swerves left, right as my mom tries to grab the wheel, willing herself to put our family at risk of an accident. I am seven years old and I am used to this, accustomed to my mom's shrill shrieks and my dad's raised hand. At seven years old, I have already learned how to block out this madness. Focusing on the twinkling lights of the city and the unsteady hum of the car's engine, I wished to be somewhere else.
Recalling this vivid memory brings me nothing but contempt for my parents. Their story is anything but romantic -- they met at work, dropping out of college to help pay for their family's finances, had a night of irresponsibility and were left with me. After I was born in the Philippines, they brought me to the United States in hopes of a "better life." This life they promised was anything but, for the jobs they had brought little money and they were constantly fighting and abusing each other. As I grew up, images of broken glass and slamming doors became ingrained into my memory. Our small family became like the shattered glass on the floor; broken and beyond repair.
It is safe to say that my age of innocence was short lived. I developed a sense of cynicism and pessimism at such an age where optimism and naivete should be. Despite the fact that I love my parents dearly, it is difficult to not be affected by what I have seen when I was younger. All of the destroyed pieces of furniture, spiting words, and bruises on my mother's arms were red flags to me, signifying that I needed to get out. Prompting myself to work harder and longer, I motivated myself all throughout my academic life to be the best that I can be. I refuse to be defined as the "mistake" of my parents; their mistakes are simply that, their own. From their lapses of judgement, I arise to be who I am today and who I will be tomorrow, following my own destiny. Constantly pushing to reach my goals, I aspire and will be the first child to graduate from a prestigious 4-year college. Looking back to the long nights where my parents would incessantly fight, I can only smile and say that I am on my way to that "somewhere else" that I wished to be so long ago.
The most rough draft you will ever read. Please tear it up and don't hold back! Thank you so much :)
--
City lights flash through my eyes as my dad drives faster and faster. The car swerves left, right as my mom tries to grab the wheel, willing herself to put our family at risk of an accident. I am seven years old and I am used to this, accustomed to my mom's shrill shrieks and my dad's raised hand. At seven years old, I have already learned how to block out this madness. Focusing on the twinkling lights of the city and the unsteady hum of the car's engine, I wished to be somewhere else.
Recalling this vivid memory brings me nothing but contempt for my parents. Their story is anything but romantic -- they met at work, dropping out of college to help pay for their family's finances, had a night of irresponsibility and were left with me. After I was born in the Philippines, they brought me to the United States in hopes of a "better life." This life they promised was anything but, for the jobs they had brought little money and they were constantly fighting and abusing each other. As I grew up, images of broken glass and slamming doors became ingrained into my memory. Our small family became like the shattered glass on the floor; broken and beyond repair.
It is safe to say that my age of innocence was short lived. I developed a sense of cynicism and pessimism at such an age where optimism and naivete should be. Despite the fact that I love my parents dearly, it is difficult to not be affected by what I have seen when I was younger. All of the destroyed pieces of furniture, spiting words, and bruises on my mother's arms were red flags to me, signifying that I needed to get out. Prompting myself to work harder and longer, I motivated myself all throughout my academic life to be the best that I can be. I refuse to be defined as the "mistake" of my parents; their mistakes are simply that, their own. From their lapses of judgement, I arise to be who I am today and who I will be tomorrow, following my own destiny. Constantly pushing to reach my goals, I aspire and will be the first child to graduate from a prestigious 4-year college. Looking back to the long nights where my parents would incessantly fight, I can only smile and say that I am on my way to that "somewhere else" that I wished to be so long ago.
