Do you ever recall writing a personal statement? I'm sure you do. While doing my yearly email cleaning, I happen to stumble upon mine. Indeed, it is a horrendous sight to relive because it was an agony to cramp my story into a short essay. However, I did learn one that from re-reading it, and that is how much I have grown. While looking at this essay from a college student perspective, I learn that all my struggles shaped me into a better individual. Here is my embarrassing personal statement and I hope this inspires you to re-read yours.
Personal statement
"As the new kid in school, I became everyone's favorite amusement. Yet, like every toy, once I lost my gloss I became worthless. Dumbfounded by the ominous resentment a nine-year-old could have towards a stranger, I hid the tears at the edge of my eyes. The remarks initiated with “You’re dumb! Talk in English” and ended “go and cry to mommy.” Except that was exactly what I wanted. I was stripped away from my mother by the golden dreams of America. I missed her warmness at night, the comfort of being loved. By the age of 11, my grasp on English became more fluent. However, my improvement did not suffice their demands. I was referred to as “Fat Mexican” or “Gay” just to fulfill their ego. Then it escalated. It was recess time and to my surprise, it was the first time anyone invited me to an American football game. A clear sin to the culture of my school. One second I stood, the next I laid on the floor, suddenly it all went blank. When I surged back to life, the nurse interrogated me, “ Oh! I hit my head on the fence…I don't remember much after that.” That night I wept until the darkness swallowed me whole. In the amenity of a fib.
"In the blur of all my struggles, Summer Search landed on the scene like a deus ex machina. Summer Search is a youth development organization that aids low-income students in achieving their dreams. I had to compete against hundreds of students in my school to get one of the six spots available. The initial challenge they post was to run 3.5 miles in thirty minutes. Every muscle in my body screamed with a desperate ache but I kept on going, mile after mile. I simulated the barren memories and ignited them as my fuel. For the first time in my life, I had come first, I assured myself it would not be my last. My second obstacle landed in a no-mans land otherwise known as Maine. I lived in the wilderness for three weeks with eight strangers. The first few days were terrifying, with the nefarious shadows pursuing me at nights. We hiked for more than 10 hours every single day. Everyone around me bombarded my cries of agony, somehow I couldn't manage to complain for one reason. I was ecstatic for my accomplishments. Never before had I acknowledged myself for all my achievements. My final hurdle brought me to Stanford University. I must say, college is not how I picture it. From day one, my professor shot a hole through my brain with her limitless ammunition of assignments. My treatment included a triple shot espresso every morning and a roommate meeting every night where we analyze the science behind girls and our daily complication. Ironically, college had granted me two gifts, friends and my passion for politics. Throughout my extensive research for my term paper, I spotted that political figures strive for the best of their communities and suffer through the hardships of pleasing the majority. At that moment I had an epiphany. I always strived to please those who tortured me and never address them as an individual but as “them” to lessen their guilt. They were the reason why I’m not just surviving but I’m living my life. I’m not that minuscule child who sobbed himself to sleep. I’m Cesar Nunez, a 17-year-old student, that dreams to be a politician not because of my empathy but for my struggles. I want to disperse hope in the sights of oblivion to become an inspiration to those who have lost their path. Today I shed a tear for the past, and a fist for my future."
