This is a college essay regarding a topic of my choice, no specific prompt. I just discovered this site and would deeply appreciate some feedback ASAP! I am aiming for the early-decision deadline for UPenn on November 1st.
"Doors are opening." I stepped out of the train, preparing for my my walk home from school. I turned on my mp3, and plugged my headphones deep into my ears so it would appear that I cannot hear anything, but I can hear everything. While exiting Somerset station, I passed by two gentlemen that glared at me as if I have not been walking these streets for the last seven years. Their behavior was typical throughout my neighborhood; they lay their heads down, with their hoods upright, standing so close to each other you would think they were one. They talked about Mary Jane and how much they wanted her, needed her.
I walked a bit further and heard glass shatter; someone must have lost control over a drink - but I do not turn my head because I can't hear, so I can't see. I have become accustomed to these people, to the mothers screaming at their children, to the police on standby, to the teenagers loitering in front of the Chinese restaurant.
Just as I turned on Hart Lane, I was stopped by a man's back. In front of him was an unfamiliar face, a girl my age, healthy and glowing, her hair tied up as if she had just returned from an athletic practice, but she was dead in the eyes. She held one arm out, used her other hand to hold one sleeve of her sweater above her elbow, and glared ferociously into the man's eyes. The man opened a kit full of syringes, ready to inject a mysterious fluid into her body. "Give it to me! Give it to me!" I was nearly trembling, but I had to get home. "Excuse me." She drew her eyes to me for a split second as I gave her a confused, disappointed look. I sped up and continued on.
I thought about the issue of drug abuse. It was capable of influencing even the most innocent looking girl, but I knew I was strong enough to never fall under this influence. I then thought of why I did not do or say anything to help her, but what could I have done? If another person were in my position, what would they have done? I was disheartened to admit that it would be rare for a person to have stopped the girl to make her think twice about what she was doing, and just acknowledged this way of life. I felt regretful and useless, sorry that I did not tell her of my thoughts, that you should put your body and mind above all things.
Every day I walk, I see different things, and each time I am more determined to differentiate myself from the worst of my peers and neighbors. I learned that managing your own person is crucial. So I took my keys and injected them into the lock; I turned, and I was home.
"Doors are opening." I stepped out of the train, preparing for my my walk home from school. I turned on my mp3, and plugged my headphones deep into my ears so it would appear that I cannot hear anything, but I can hear everything. While exiting Somerset station, I passed by two gentlemen that glared at me as if I have not been walking these streets for the last seven years. Their behavior was typical throughout my neighborhood; they lay their heads down, with their hoods upright, standing so close to each other you would think they were one. They talked about Mary Jane and how much they wanted her, needed her.
I walked a bit further and heard glass shatter; someone must have lost control over a drink - but I do not turn my head because I can't hear, so I can't see. I have become accustomed to these people, to the mothers screaming at their children, to the police on standby, to the teenagers loitering in front of the Chinese restaurant.
Just as I turned on Hart Lane, I was stopped by a man's back. In front of him was an unfamiliar face, a girl my age, healthy and glowing, her hair tied up as if she had just returned from an athletic practice, but she was dead in the eyes. She held one arm out, used her other hand to hold one sleeve of her sweater above her elbow, and glared ferociously into the man's eyes. The man opened a kit full of syringes, ready to inject a mysterious fluid into her body. "Give it to me! Give it to me!" I was nearly trembling, but I had to get home. "Excuse me." She drew her eyes to me for a split second as I gave her a confused, disappointed look. I sped up and continued on.
I thought about the issue of drug abuse. It was capable of influencing even the most innocent looking girl, but I knew I was strong enough to never fall under this influence. I then thought of why I did not do or say anything to help her, but what could I have done? If another person were in my position, what would they have done? I was disheartened to admit that it would be rare for a person to have stopped the girl to make her think twice about what she was doing, and just acknowledged this way of life. I felt regretful and useless, sorry that I did not tell her of my thoughts, that you should put your body and mind above all things.
Every day I walk, I see different things, and each time I am more determined to differentiate myself from the worst of my peers and neighbors. I learned that managing your own person is crucial. So I took my keys and injected them into the lock; I turned, and I was home.