This is a draft for my common app essay. The print is a challenged u faced and how you were able to learn and grow.
Was the ferry sinking?
Definitely not. But the frantic noise from the passengers on the adjacent side of our berth were unsettling, similar to the sounds you hear in disaster movies-people screaming, scrambling for the exit doors, escaping for their lives. As the ferry crashed through each successive wave, I couldn't put off the feeling that we were on the verge of capsizing. I had watched Titanic a few times and I wasn't planning on living the sequel. Not now that my family and I were traveling to our native island, Annobón.
I tried to throw away the fact that nothing was happening in real time, but instead my mind started materializing possible exit strategies: our essentials were within arms reach, with adrenaline coursing through our veins, we could sprint toward the exit door on the right, desperate to reach the nearest lifeboats on the ferry. Life jackets? Not a priority just yet. And at least my mom could swim-something to cling to in the panic.
Even though I tried to anchor myself to the present, repeatedly reminding myself that the future was just a series of "nows" waiting to unfold, I couldn't escape the grip of my incessant mind chatter. It would sneak up on me, casting me into deep, introspective moments. Though overthinking is meant to be a survival instinct, it often made me my own worst enemy, crafting imaginary dangers and turning me into a drifter, moving through life on autopilot, with my mind spiraling in endless "what-ifs."
As the ferry docked, I was jolted back to reality-my mind had been racing for the entire 72-hour journey. I had hardly slept.
The island's lack of internet connection was an opportunity for me to focus on living in the present . Whenever my mind began to wander, I turned to journaling and deep breathing to bring myself back to the moment. While exploring the sights of Annobón, like the Mazafim Lake, the central plaza, and its unique beaches, I'd occasionally be interrupted by thoughts like, "What if something happens?" or "What should I wear for graduation?" But I made an effort to acknowledge these distractions and simply breathe through them.
While breathing certainly helped, it wasn't as transformative as the floating starfish pose my friends showed me. In this pose, you let go, gaze upward, and allow your body to float freely on water. After a few attempts, I finally mastered it, and by the fourth try, the sea became my sanctuary-where I practiced mindfulness and meditation, always mindful of the water's pull of course.
As the ferry emerged on the horizon after a month, a smile crept across my face. I felt a deep sense of eudaemonic contemptment, much like those who have survived a capsizing and finally see the rescue boat approaching after days of relentless swimming. As we left, a renewed sense of who I am emerged-one that no longer dwells on imagined futures but focuses on proactive acting in the present moment.
Besides self improvement, this trip allowed me to taste new foods, learn our native dialect (Fa d'Âmbo), and absorb the richness of our culture, including its songs, dances, and traditions. Now, I'm ready to embark on another journey, eager to share my story and culture and learn from the cultures of others.
Was the ferry sinking?
Definitely not. But the frantic noise from the passengers on the adjacent side of our berth were unsettling, similar to the sounds you hear in disaster movies-people screaming, scrambling for the exit doors, escaping for their lives. As the ferry crashed through each successive wave, I couldn't put off the feeling that we were on the verge of capsizing. I had watched Titanic a few times and I wasn't planning on living the sequel. Not now that my family and I were traveling to our native island, Annobón.
I tried to throw away the fact that nothing was happening in real time, but instead my mind started materializing possible exit strategies: our essentials were within arms reach, with adrenaline coursing through our veins, we could sprint toward the exit door on the right, desperate to reach the nearest lifeboats on the ferry. Life jackets? Not a priority just yet. And at least my mom could swim-something to cling to in the panic.
Even though I tried to anchor myself to the present, repeatedly reminding myself that the future was just a series of "nows" waiting to unfold, I couldn't escape the grip of my incessant mind chatter. It would sneak up on me, casting me into deep, introspective moments. Though overthinking is meant to be a survival instinct, it often made me my own worst enemy, crafting imaginary dangers and turning me into a drifter, moving through life on autopilot, with my mind spiraling in endless "what-ifs."
As the ferry docked, I was jolted back to reality-my mind had been racing for the entire 72-hour journey. I had hardly slept.
The island's lack of internet connection was an opportunity for me to focus on living in the present . Whenever my mind began to wander, I turned to journaling and deep breathing to bring myself back to the moment. While exploring the sights of Annobón, like the Mazafim Lake, the central plaza, and its unique beaches, I'd occasionally be interrupted by thoughts like, "What if something happens?" or "What should I wear for graduation?" But I made an effort to acknowledge these distractions and simply breathe through them.
While breathing certainly helped, it wasn't as transformative as the floating starfish pose my friends showed me. In this pose, you let go, gaze upward, and allow your body to float freely on water. After a few attempts, I finally mastered it, and by the fourth try, the sea became my sanctuary-where I practiced mindfulness and meditation, always mindful of the water's pull of course.
As the ferry emerged on the horizon after a month, a smile crept across my face. I felt a deep sense of eudaemonic contemptment, much like those who have survived a capsizing and finally see the rescue boat approaching after days of relentless swimming. As we left, a renewed sense of who I am emerged-one that no longer dwells on imagined futures but focuses on proactive acting in the present moment.
Besides self improvement, this trip allowed me to taste new foods, learn our native dialect (Fa d'Âmbo), and absorb the richness of our culture, including its songs, dances, and traditions. Now, I'm ready to embark on another journey, eager to share my story and culture and learn from the cultures of others.