( free topic for the common app)
The only thing I fear is fear itself
My very first road trip was when I was just 5. My family decided I was now big enough to visit the zoo
with them; without bawling like most children do. Sitting strapped safely in the back seat of our car, our
journey began.
It took us a while to get to the zoo, but I sat there patiently waiting and humming to a song. When we
finally reached, I jumped out, unable to contain my excitement. The sights and sounds around were
overwhelming with children screaming and vendors selling ice- cream and cotton candy. After a long
wait, we finally managed to get in. The animals almost looked bored, dragging through yet another day
of visitors. The Lion looked most enthusiastic to impress the crowds that flocked around the enclosure.
Like most children I too was excited, standing on tip-toes trying to get a better look.
Suddenly I noticed a man striding across the lawn, he held something golden and furry that squirmed in
his hands; intrigued I broke away from the line towards him to get a better view. To my delight it was a
lion cub. He set the cub on the grass; I knelt down and began to pet it, letting it sniff and lick my hands,
feeling its soft fur beneath my fingers.
"Alysid!" my mother shouted in panic while my dad scrambled around looking for me. In no time the
zoo appeared to be in a greater chaos now than it was when we first walked in. Being totally engrossed
in the cub, I was oblivious to the fact that I was being called out. My contact with the cub was like
nothing Iíve ever experienced before, the sharpness of its teeth and the softness of its paws; so
incredibly new and wonderful to the touch. I was more than happy to spend all afternoon with it.
A while later I felt someone gently touching my shoulder which made me turn around. Of course, it was
my mother, overcome with relief; she hugged the life out of me. I gently unwrapped myself from her
arms and pointed to the cub, wanting her to share in the joy I experienced with this amazing little
creature, playfully biting everything it could find. I leaned over, trying to get my hand in its mouth, to
see what the prick of its teeth against my skin would feel like.
Should I have feared the cub and run as far away as possible? I wouldn't have done anything differently
if given the chance again. This little encounter with something so small has made me realize that while I
am not entirely fearless, I do explore my surroundings and tend to take required risks necessary to
complete tasks on hand or even try something completely new. Even now, the fear of moving on with
my life in college and accepting a new family seems like looking at the fearful mane of a Lion not the
gentle face of a cub.
The only thing I fear is fear itself
My very first road trip was when I was just 5. My family decided I was now big enough to visit the zoo
with them; without bawling like most children do. Sitting strapped safely in the back seat of our car, our
journey began.
It took us a while to get to the zoo, but I sat there patiently waiting and humming to a song. When we
finally reached, I jumped out, unable to contain my excitement. The sights and sounds around were
overwhelming with children screaming and vendors selling ice- cream and cotton candy. After a long
wait, we finally managed to get in. The animals almost looked bored, dragging through yet another day
of visitors. The Lion looked most enthusiastic to impress the crowds that flocked around the enclosure.
Like most children I too was excited, standing on tip-toes trying to get a better look.
Suddenly I noticed a man striding across the lawn, he held something golden and furry that squirmed in
his hands; intrigued I broke away from the line towards him to get a better view. To my delight it was a
lion cub. He set the cub on the grass; I knelt down and began to pet it, letting it sniff and lick my hands,
feeling its soft fur beneath my fingers.
"Alysid!" my mother shouted in panic while my dad scrambled around looking for me. In no time the
zoo appeared to be in a greater chaos now than it was when we first walked in. Being totally engrossed
in the cub, I was oblivious to the fact that I was being called out. My contact with the cub was like
nothing Iíve ever experienced before, the sharpness of its teeth and the softness of its paws; so
incredibly new and wonderful to the touch. I was more than happy to spend all afternoon with it.
A while later I felt someone gently touching my shoulder which made me turn around. Of course, it was
my mother, overcome with relief; she hugged the life out of me. I gently unwrapped myself from her
arms and pointed to the cub, wanting her to share in the joy I experienced with this amazing little
creature, playfully biting everything it could find. I leaned over, trying to get my hand in its mouth, to
see what the prick of its teeth against my skin would feel like.
Should I have feared the cub and run as far away as possible? I wouldn't have done anything differently
if given the chance again. This little encounter with something so small has made me realize that while I
am not entirely fearless, I do explore my surroundings and tend to take required risks necessary to
complete tasks on hand or even try something completely new. Even now, the fear of moving on with
my life in college and accepting a new family seems like looking at the fearful mane of a Lion not the
gentle face of a cub.
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