Common App Essay prompt: Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
When I was fourteen, I wrote countless letters to Justin Bieber.
I hated Justin Bieber.
My letters were forlorn. "Just write and acknowledge that you got this letter. That's all I ask," one of them said. Fourteen year old me was desperate.
I didn't write to Justin Bieber for those reasons typical celebrity obsessed people do. There was never a plea for marriage or an autograph. I only had one point to my letters.
I was constantly asking Justin Bieber to help cure the disease my cousin has. In the professional world, it's known as Rett Syndrome. In my house, it's known as the Rett Monster. Rett entered our lives on a lovely fall day in 2008 and has terrorized my family ever since. My littlest cousin Emma takes the brunt of the abuse. She was two when she was diagnosed with the Rett Monster. It took away almost all of Emma's abilities. She can't walk, can't talk, can't eat or sit up. She has seizures and scoliosis. The little girl is tougher than nails and she's only seven.
Rett is a disease that only affects females and is so uncommon that the closest family afflicted with it lives almost 200 miles away from us. With statistics like that it's easy to feel completely alone, and fourteen year old me did. I felt like we were the only family that had just had the future of their baby taken away. Emma, being the last Dalton cousin, was supposed to be the epitome of perfect with her bouncy brown curls and piercing blue eyes. She was supposed to go off and become a successful woman with the perfect family. The Rett Monster took her whole perfect future and strapped it into a shiny black and purple wheelchair.
So it's safe to say that isolation was the most overwhelming emotion in my fourteen year old world.
That's when I looked to Justin Bieber to take over. I thought that maybe he could help me bring awareness to the monster. I thought maybe, if Justin Bieber could be optimistic and spread the word, everything would turn out perfect again.
Needless to say, Justin Bieber never responded to any of my letters and it took that little bit of devastation to push me into everything life changing. Bieber's silence made me realize that, if i wanted anything to happen, I had to stop relying on a celebrity from Canada with good hair to do it for me.
This realization threw me into a world I could never back out of. I started getting involved in the fundraisers and Rett picnics my family was organizing. It began as a concert and silent auction in the basement of our tiny town hall. There was one Rett family that traveled eight hours from Pennsylvania for the event.
By the third year, the event was bigger, better, the best experience ever. It was on a farm. There were food venders, bake sales, auctions. There was even a bouncy house, which is a rarity here. We raised a grand total of almost $17,000 for research that day. There were nine Rett Syndrome families that traveled from as far as Indiana to New York, just for our event. The feeling of isolation and alienation was no longer there.
Justin Bieber's failure to respond to my letters taught me the biggest life lesson I've ever learned. Now, if I want something, I go out and make it happen. I no longer wait for help from anyone else. Of course, there are some things that might never change. There might never be a cure for the Rett Monster, but at least I can say that I did something to be involved in the process. I did something to change the world. And it was all because of Justin Bieber.
When I was fourteen, I wrote countless letters to Justin Bieber.
I hated Justin Bieber.
My letters were forlorn. "Just write and acknowledge that you got this letter. That's all I ask," one of them said. Fourteen year old me was desperate.
I didn't write to Justin Bieber for those reasons typical celebrity obsessed people do. There was never a plea for marriage or an autograph. I only had one point to my letters.
I was constantly asking Justin Bieber to help cure the disease my cousin has. In the professional world, it's known as Rett Syndrome. In my house, it's known as the Rett Monster. Rett entered our lives on a lovely fall day in 2008 and has terrorized my family ever since. My littlest cousin Emma takes the brunt of the abuse. She was two when she was diagnosed with the Rett Monster. It took away almost all of Emma's abilities. She can't walk, can't talk, can't eat or sit up. She has seizures and scoliosis. The little girl is tougher than nails and she's only seven.
Rett is a disease that only affects females and is so uncommon that the closest family afflicted with it lives almost 200 miles away from us. With statistics like that it's easy to feel completely alone, and fourteen year old me did. I felt like we were the only family that had just had the future of their baby taken away. Emma, being the last Dalton cousin, was supposed to be the epitome of perfect with her bouncy brown curls and piercing blue eyes. She was supposed to go off and become a successful woman with the perfect family. The Rett Monster took her whole perfect future and strapped it into a shiny black and purple wheelchair.
So it's safe to say that isolation was the most overwhelming emotion in my fourteen year old world.
That's when I looked to Justin Bieber to take over. I thought that maybe he could help me bring awareness to the monster. I thought maybe, if Justin Bieber could be optimistic and spread the word, everything would turn out perfect again.
Needless to say, Justin Bieber never responded to any of my letters and it took that little bit of devastation to push me into everything life changing. Bieber's silence made me realize that, if i wanted anything to happen, I had to stop relying on a celebrity from Canada with good hair to do it for me.
This realization threw me into a world I could never back out of. I started getting involved in the fundraisers and Rett picnics my family was organizing. It began as a concert and silent auction in the basement of our tiny town hall. There was one Rett family that traveled eight hours from Pennsylvania for the event.
By the third year, the event was bigger, better, the best experience ever. It was on a farm. There were food venders, bake sales, auctions. There was even a bouncy house, which is a rarity here. We raised a grand total of almost $17,000 for research that day. There were nine Rett Syndrome families that traveled from as far as Indiana to New York, just for our event. The feeling of isolation and alienation was no longer there.
Justin Bieber's failure to respond to my letters taught me the biggest life lesson I've ever learned. Now, if I want something, I go out and make it happen. I no longer wait for help from anyone else. Of course, there are some things that might never change. There might never be a cure for the Rett Monster, but at least I can say that I did something to be involved in the process. I did something to change the world. And it was all because of Justin Bieber.