This is a personal experience essay for the common app or the SUNY Supplement. It's really short. I don't really love it. It's kind of impersonal and boring and I rushed a lot. I know there are a lot of grammatical errors. Any help is appreciated!
I think I'm going to have a panic attack.
I think I'm going to have a panic attack and die right now. Because I'm scared. And the lights are so bright they're blinding, the crowd is louder than my eardrums can stand, and Mrs. P won't stop shouting...
The auditorium is huge. From where I'm standing on stage I can barely see the back wall. I have to squint to see beyond the lights, eyes searching for a familiar face. The seats are all filled up with parents and students, and I cringe because that's even more of a reason to find an ocean and drown in it.
Oh, God! Oh, God! I need to get out of here! I need to turn around and run, with my tail tucked between my legs. I need to hide somewhere where my hands would just. Stop. Shaking.
My best friend grins at me over her conga, and I almost snap at her because doesn't she hear me screaming? Doesn't she see the goose-mountains on my arms and hear that slight hitch in my breath? Isn't she worried that I'm the only one about to completely breakdown? I turn my head and look at the crowd again and see my music teacher.
She is standing, all in white, a smile of pride on her face. Her hair is a bit messy, her eyes a bit wide, but in that moment she is exactly who I needed to see. When I look at her I think of the months of work my classmates and I went through. I think about how frustrating all that practice was, how much pressure we felt because of it. I think about how I can't let all of that go to waste. So I smile back at her, eyes just as wide, heart beating in time with the drum behind me and sing.
I know that I'm a work in progress. I have flaws miles high, insecurities way down deep. I have times when I'm completely into myself, buried in a corner with a book in my hand and headphones blaring. But I also know that when it comes down to it, I can pull through.
I think I'm going to have a panic attack.
I think I'm going to have a panic attack and die right now. Because I'm scared. And the lights are so bright they're blinding, the crowd is louder than my eardrums can stand, and Mrs. P won't stop shouting...
The auditorium is huge. From where I'm standing on stage I can barely see the back wall. I have to squint to see beyond the lights, eyes searching for a familiar face. The seats are all filled up with parents and students, and I cringe because that's even more of a reason to find an ocean and drown in it.
Oh, God! Oh, God! I need to get out of here! I need to turn around and run, with my tail tucked between my legs. I need to hide somewhere where my hands would just. Stop. Shaking.
My best friend grins at me over her conga, and I almost snap at her because doesn't she hear me screaming? Doesn't she see the goose-mountains on my arms and hear that slight hitch in my breath? Isn't she worried that I'm the only one about to completely breakdown? I turn my head and look at the crowd again and see my music teacher.
She is standing, all in white, a smile of pride on her face. Her hair is a bit messy, her eyes a bit wide, but in that moment she is exactly who I needed to see. When I look at her I think of the months of work my classmates and I went through. I think about how frustrating all that practice was, how much pressure we felt because of it. I think about how I can't let all of that go to waste. So I smile back at her, eyes just as wide, heart beating in time with the drum behind me and sing.
I know that I'm a work in progress. I have flaws miles high, insecurities way down deep. I have times when I'm completely into myself, buried in a corner with a book in my hand and headphones blaring. But I also know that when it comes down to it, I can pull through.
