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.
i would really appreciate your critique.
this essay is for the University of California LA and it has to be 500 or less words, mine only has 489 please let me know if i show add more content or change anything, thank you so much.
Life came back to me. In the fraction of a second light reflected in my eyes and darkness faded away slowly, feeble blurs started to become complex forms and shapes with shadows behind them to assure their presence. As I began to gain consciousness I noticed I was no longer around the person I was bounded to call dad. Instead I was in an airplane thousands of miles away thinking of how my mother would erase the memory of countless nights were I would wrap myself around a blanket before falling asleep and think of a world in which he did not exist.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but the joy of knowing I was going see my mother after seven long years of not feeling her maternity felt overshadowed by the thought of losing the person I once loved. This was the day I would gain my mother, the same day I would lose my father.
As the plane began to descent a pain in my chest filled with guilt made me stop thinking about my father as the aggressive and alcoholic self-centered man he was, instead I thought of the person I used to see as my hero, the person with whom I shared a few positive childhood memories. For a moment I cared about my father and though that maybe all he wanted for me was to be successful, maybe he didn't want me to be a taxi driver like him and telling me that I was not good enough was his way of saying it. I was being selfish thinking about myself while my dad was in a dark place waiting for he's life to end, but guilt faded away when I revived the moment my dad last spoke to me saying I was a waste, this pierced through my skin into my heart with anger and began to cry.
The airplane had landed. As I walked off the plane I realized that though I grew up hiding under my blanket hoping my dad would pass out, shaking as his voice with bitter stench approached my ears, and praying for each of his blows to be the last, there were many things I had to be thankful for, including a mother who gave up her right to raise me so I could have food in the table.
Five years later here I stand, remembering the last words my father said to me, thinking it didn't have to be that way since he survived that dreadful event; he had the option to change his life to be a better person. He did not, but I did. I no longer blame my father for my unstable childhood or contemplate how he could find pleasure in causing me so much pain; instead I use him as the foundation to show myself how wrong he was when he said "you are a waste."
i would really appreciate your critique.
this essay is for the University of California LA and it has to be 500 or less words, mine only has 489 please let me know if i show add more content or change anything, thank you so much.
Life came back to me. In the fraction of a second light reflected in my eyes and darkness faded away slowly, feeble blurs started to become complex forms and shapes with shadows behind them to assure their presence. As I began to gain consciousness I noticed I was no longer around the person I was bounded to call dad. Instead I was in an airplane thousands of miles away thinking of how my mother would erase the memory of countless nights were I would wrap myself around a blanket before falling asleep and think of a world in which he did not exist.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but the joy of knowing I was going see my mother after seven long years of not feeling her maternity felt overshadowed by the thought of losing the person I once loved. This was the day I would gain my mother, the same day I would lose my father.
As the plane began to descent a pain in my chest filled with guilt made me stop thinking about my father as the aggressive and alcoholic self-centered man he was, instead I thought of the person I used to see as my hero, the person with whom I shared a few positive childhood memories. For a moment I cared about my father and though that maybe all he wanted for me was to be successful, maybe he didn't want me to be a taxi driver like him and telling me that I was not good enough was his way of saying it. I was being selfish thinking about myself while my dad was in a dark place waiting for he's life to end, but guilt faded away when I revived the moment my dad last spoke to me saying I was a waste, this pierced through my skin into my heart with anger and began to cry.
The airplane had landed. As I walked off the plane I realized that though I grew up hiding under my blanket hoping my dad would pass out, shaking as his voice with bitter stench approached my ears, and praying for each of his blows to be the last, there were many things I had to be thankful for, including a mother who gave up her right to raise me so I could have food in the table.
Five years later here I stand, remembering the last words my father said to me, thinking it didn't have to be that way since he survived that dreadful event; he had the option to change his life to be a better person. He did not, but I did. I no longer blame my father for my unstable childhood or contemplate how he could find pleasure in causing me so much pain; instead I use him as the foundation to show myself how wrong he was when he said "you are a waste."