Prompt: Write an essay about someone who has made an impact in your life.
"Perspective"
Children are the epitome of innocence, so much that they require role models to influence their lives, for better or for worse. For as long as I can remember, the one person I could always look up to was my cousin Mark. He always seemed like the impeccable example of a person: a straight-A student, an athlete, and a beloved son. So when this angel fell from grace, my feet were swept from under me. John Steinbeck couldn't have said it any better: "When a child first catches adults out, his world falls into a panic desolation."
On Halloween night of 2001, the nightmares that would haunt our family began with a single phone call from the emergency room. I can distinctly recall the sterile odor of the hospital room, the monotonous beep of the status monitor, and the sight of Mark lying in bed, a tube in his mouth and blood drained from his face. He had just gotten his stomach pumped from an accidental drug overdose. My eight year-old brain could not comprehend what was happening right in front of me. The flawless image of my cousin, my hero, was quickly fading from my memory with the image of his unresponsive body taking its place.
For the next two years, Mark experienced a seemingly interminable cycle of rehabilitation programs and relapses. Every time I saw him sober and healthy, he made a conscious effort to cheer me up about his disease, about how he was getting better; I could tell he was trying to convince himself more than me. In his eyes, I could see every single twinge of anguish that he faced in his struggle towards sobriety. The last time Mark and I had a decent conversation, the last "good cycle" he had, he told me something which convinced me that the Mark I knew - the man who mentored me from infancy up - still existed within his withered body. Unfortunately, that version of Mark failed to prevail; he passed away from an alcohol-drug overdose about two months later.
It is simultaneously amazing and calamitous how much the death of a loved one can impact the workings of someone's life. Standing over Mark's lifeless body at his funeral, I forced myself to make choices about how I would lead my life, to learn from the mistakes that led to my cousin's untimely death. When adults advise me to stay away from all these harmful substances, I confidently tell them not to worry because I made that choice before my school even had the chance to properly teach me about alcohol and drugs. I am determined to avoid the trap that ensnared Mark and caused him so much agony amid short periods of felicity and sobriety.
Most importantly, Mark himself taught me to be realistic about the world around me and the life I will eventually lead. In the final moments of our conversation, the moments that convinced me that the old Mark still existed, he remarked five words that I live my life through: "Perspective. It's all about perspective." At the time, his utterance confounded me; now I realize the wisdom that surrounded his words. Horrible things happen to great people everyday; it is how these people perceive and how they let these events affect their lives that truly matters.
Is this essay too short? Its about 550 words. Please help me with any advice if you can :) Thanks!
"Perspective"
Children are the epitome of innocence, so much that they require role models to influence their lives, for better or for worse. For as long as I can remember, the one person I could always look up to was my cousin Mark. He always seemed like the impeccable example of a person: a straight-A student, an athlete, and a beloved son. So when this angel fell from grace, my feet were swept from under me. John Steinbeck couldn't have said it any better: "When a child first catches adults out, his world falls into a panic desolation."
On Halloween night of 2001, the nightmares that would haunt our family began with a single phone call from the emergency room. I can distinctly recall the sterile odor of the hospital room, the monotonous beep of the status monitor, and the sight of Mark lying in bed, a tube in his mouth and blood drained from his face. He had just gotten his stomach pumped from an accidental drug overdose. My eight year-old brain could not comprehend what was happening right in front of me. The flawless image of my cousin, my hero, was quickly fading from my memory with the image of his unresponsive body taking its place.
For the next two years, Mark experienced a seemingly interminable cycle of rehabilitation programs and relapses. Every time I saw him sober and healthy, he made a conscious effort to cheer me up about his disease, about how he was getting better; I could tell he was trying to convince himself more than me. In his eyes, I could see every single twinge of anguish that he faced in his struggle towards sobriety. The last time Mark and I had a decent conversation, the last "good cycle" he had, he told me something which convinced me that the Mark I knew - the man who mentored me from infancy up - still existed within his withered body. Unfortunately, that version of Mark failed to prevail; he passed away from an alcohol-drug overdose about two months later.
It is simultaneously amazing and calamitous how much the death of a loved one can impact the workings of someone's life. Standing over Mark's lifeless body at his funeral, I forced myself to make choices about how I would lead my life, to learn from the mistakes that led to my cousin's untimely death. When adults advise me to stay away from all these harmful substances, I confidently tell them not to worry because I made that choice before my school even had the chance to properly teach me about alcohol and drugs. I am determined to avoid the trap that ensnared Mark and caused him so much agony amid short periods of felicity and sobriety.
Most importantly, Mark himself taught me to be realistic about the world around me and the life I will eventually lead. In the final moments of our conversation, the moments that convinced me that the old Mark still existed, he remarked five words that I live my life through: "Perspective. It's all about perspective." At the time, his utterance confounded me; now I realize the wisdom that surrounded his words. Horrible things happen to great people everyday; it is how these people perceive and how they let these events affect their lives that truly matters.
Is this essay too short? Its about 550 words. Please help me with any advice if you can :) Thanks!