college essay
13:06:10 - 2000-09-17
all right, everyone. i need your help here, ok? below is my college essay and i need your feedback. e-mail me, sign my guestbook, whatever, i'll take anything. if you have suggestions, TELL ME! thanks(c: mmmmmmmWA!
The girl in the mirror had a sad facial expression. She whispered, �I can�t say what you need me to say. I was always myself and liked what I liked. I write what I do because it�s important to me, not because somebody said it was a good idea, and there isn�t a specific author I�m trying to equal. I don�t have the answers you need. I�m sorry.� I then felt guilty for having asked her such questions. Her eyes marked the same emotion. She felt bad for not having had (or remembering) a life-changing moment, an inspiring role model, an explanation for the way she was. Her gaze dropped to the floor.
I looked back at her a moment later. She was upset, but starting to relax. Her slouched back had straightened a bit and her eyes no longer seemed so downcast. I could sense the smile approaching her quickly: the way it started in the corners of her eyes, and gradually lit up the rest of her face. Her mind had, no doubt, begun to drift. She probably had a romantic song in her head, most-likely �Take My Breath Away.� Yes, she was definitely imagining herself to be somewhere else. On a stage outside in front of a crowd, playing a guitar, singing a song that the audience loved, on a warm, starry night. Then her thoughts drifted to a book-signing where she was the honored author. People walked up to her with wide smiles, handing over their copy of her book for her autograph, and she cried tears of endless appreciation as she scribbled her name down with a heartfelt message... Again, her mind was swept off into another world. (So easily, she was distracted by daydreams). She was now in the Caribbean, on the shore at sunset, her only company, a camera. Picture after picture, she photographed the sky, attempting to collect its infinite beauty in a frame-able fashion. She wanted to save and share this magical setting.
I searched her eyes still. I understood her now. She was the aspiring everything. The soft-hearted, fantasy-driven poet who wanted to be part of each of the world�s fantastic angles. She thrived on images of happy endings. She wanted to show the world her dreams and reach out to them. She lived to express herself.
She may not have known what made her who she was and why, but that didn�t matter. None of that mattered. I knew what qualities illustrated her. I saw the beautiful dreams she wove in her mind. I knew the impossible height of the stars she was aiming for. And I respected her. I respected me.