Okay this is one of three of my common app essays, I'd like to know your HONEST OPINIONS about it. I chose option #6, which was "topic of your choice."
One winter day, thirteen years ago, I had the foolish misfortune of shoving M&Ms up my nose. At the time, my elder sister, already in the second grade, was monopolizing my mother's precious time with her school work. Therefore, I had no one to play with. I must also mention that at this time, I was a profound solipsist. Shattered by outright neglect, I half-heartedly skipped into my parents' bedroom and found an unambiguously open pack of Hershey's M&Ms lying on the dresser. Without much further thought, I grabbed the bag and scooted back into the hallway to reevaluate the accessibility of my playmate sister. But, of course, she was too preoccupied with her crayons, most of which I had already broken while drawing rainbow daffodils and princess castles.
Quietly, yet delightfully, I popped M&M pieces into my mouth, but I desperately wanted my mother's attention. It became harder to entertain myself, especially with this newfound sugar rush from the forbidden fruit I hid in my grubby hands. The piece I remember holding at that moment was a brown M&M. Why did they color the brown M&M's brown, when the chocolate had been brown to begin with? To me, It was perplexing, and so much so to the extent that I mindlessly shoved it up my right nostril instead of placing it in my mouth. Oh, I thought. That feels pretty cool. I pulled out an orange M&M and secured it in my left nostril. I felt like a God - or perhaps a beast, but only one of unfathomable might and strength.
"Mama! Mama!" I began to shout from the hallway. "Mama, I'm a monster!" I began to growl in her general direction. The noxious odor of Crayola no longer wafted in from the room... or perhaps I could no longer smell it? My inadvertent plan had failed to work. It was time to put those rebellious-looking M&M's in my mouth. But that had failed also.
My parents forced me to blow my nose as hard as I could and roar like Simba, but no roar came out. I sounded less like the king of the jungle and more like a child with a pair M&M's beginning the long journey into her lungs. My nostrils were adhered shut with chocolate candy, and they started to sting. I fearfully gazed upon the distressingly modest amounts of brown stains on the tissues I blew my nose into. I was frightened, and felt very much alone.
Straight afterwards, I was driven furiously to the hospital, where the pieces were nowhere to be found because they had already melted during the ride over. In the ER, there were children of many ages, all there in illness, injury, or possibly even chocolate maladies. Hiding under the receptionist's desk, I began to ponder the true reality of the world around me, because there was no way that the M&Ms I had in my nose should have caused such a ruckus if they did not exist.
One winter day, thirteen years ago, I had the foolish misfortune of shoving M&Ms up my nose. At the time, my elder sister, already in the second grade, was monopolizing my mother's precious time with her school work. Therefore, I had no one to play with. I must also mention that at this time, I was a profound solipsist. Shattered by outright neglect, I half-heartedly skipped into my parents' bedroom and found an unambiguously open pack of Hershey's M&Ms lying on the dresser. Without much further thought, I grabbed the bag and scooted back into the hallway to reevaluate the accessibility of my playmate sister. But, of course, she was too preoccupied with her crayons, most of which I had already broken while drawing rainbow daffodils and princess castles.
Quietly, yet delightfully, I popped M&M pieces into my mouth, but I desperately wanted my mother's attention. It became harder to entertain myself, especially with this newfound sugar rush from the forbidden fruit I hid in my grubby hands. The piece I remember holding at that moment was a brown M&M. Why did they color the brown M&M's brown, when the chocolate had been brown to begin with? To me, It was perplexing, and so much so to the extent that I mindlessly shoved it up my right nostril instead of placing it in my mouth. Oh, I thought. That feels pretty cool. I pulled out an orange M&M and secured it in my left nostril. I felt like a God - or perhaps a beast, but only one of unfathomable might and strength.
"Mama! Mama!" I began to shout from the hallway. "Mama, I'm a monster!" I began to growl in her general direction. The noxious odor of Crayola no longer wafted in from the room... or perhaps I could no longer smell it? My inadvertent plan had failed to work. It was time to put those rebellious-looking M&M's in my mouth. But that had failed also.
My parents forced me to blow my nose as hard as I could and roar like Simba, but no roar came out. I sounded less like the king of the jungle and more like a child with a pair M&M's beginning the long journey into her lungs. My nostrils were adhered shut with chocolate candy, and they started to sting. I fearfully gazed upon the distressingly modest amounts of brown stains on the tissues I blew my nose into. I was frightened, and felt very much alone.
Straight afterwards, I was driven furiously to the hospital, where the pieces were nowhere to be found because they had already melted during the ride over. In the ER, there were children of many ages, all there in illness, injury, or possibly even chocolate maladies. Hiding under the receptionist's desk, I began to ponder the true reality of the world around me, because there was no way that the M&Ms I had in my nose should have caused such a ruckus if they did not exist.