Newest College Application Essays

My final task was to finish coloring Spider-Man’s leg, and as I laid on the floor discomfort enveloped the room so intensely you could hear a pin drop. This situation came about because I was one of the three people chosen to be apart of the...

“10-64. CODE 10-43! Suspect Heading Northeast!” she said while running in her heels, dodging cars and people. Suspect five feet away. Jumps the fence, gets cuts on her palm from the shattered glass on the floor. Suspect takes out a gun, but she is...

My eyes only followed the two figures, donned in white, squat-walking back, forth, extend, stab. I watched as the fencers calculated their every movement with precision and speed. What do the arm movements of the ref mean? How do I know when...

I always find myself sitting cross legged on my bedroom floor, body hunched over a canvas, with the aroma of paint surrounding me. I follow the bleeding of one shade of brown into another and decide on using oil instead of acrylic to magnify the...

My mom loves people-watching. Every time we step inside a downtown café she insists on sitting by the windows.

I initially deemed the hobby strange and senseless, but people-watching has taught me to look outside myself—to witness the pigtailed...

I search “how to grieve properly” in the naive but hopeful belief Google knows the answer. An article tells me “broken crayons still color.” This strikes me as not only condescending but false. I am in pain and I am healing, but I am not broken....

Tilt of the head, toes on the tips and fingers striving to get hold of one of the dusty tomes which no one reached for, to hands confidently binding around a volume with admiration for the work in my eyes is my life in a nutshell.

“ They had...

The pungent odor of my mother’s borscht drifted across our campsite, along with the smoky smell coming from the fire. The field was filled with cars, tents, and a large stage. Onstage was a famous Russian group, “Masha and the 3 Bears,” playing...

My life in poetry didn't begin with the slam sessions or political activism I know today. Instead, in first grade, I wrote a haiku about my bunny, Brownie. I can’t remember the gory details, but I know it contained the adjective ‘fluffy’ at least...

I’m at Chinese school listening to my Laoshi, or teacher, Qian, berate me about my behavior: I brag about cheating on and failing tests, throw school supplies and generally wreak havoc. “Why do you even bother to show up?!” Feeling guilty, I...

I don’t like hospitals. Sharp needles, surgeon’s scalpels and other tools aren’t really my forte. Add to that the freezing air, devoid of any impurities, the impersonal white from ceiling to floor, and the moans and groans of patients in pain; a...

In childhood, amid Barbies and pink wallpaper, I had the privilege of ignorance. But when I was catcalled by a man twice my age, the uncomfortable reality came into focus. At age thirteen, I realized my gender influences how others perceive me....

It makes me angry that grape flavored medicine doesn't really taste anything like grape. It tastes more like some tonic that evil witches in fairy-tales would give to some person to poison them. I don't know who thought those medicines tasted like...

The ice breaks beneath my feet: merciless and quiet. The sunlight that had once been a hub of warmth did nothing to ease the pain the ice brought. It all happened so quickly that I wondered whether anyone saw it occur. In the course of falling...

3 decks of cards, a few puddles of sweat, and a few hours of frustration later, I was finally done. I finally finished my house of cards. It was a simple structure, just made of the typical triangles, but I had to work for every single triangle I...

I am what any Colombian would recognize as a Sancocho. I am 32% potato, 11% plantain, 2% cilantro, 16% chicken, 9% cassava, 5% corn, 17% meat, 8% avocado. I could say I am a little bit of everything, but I am a mixture of interests, skills, and...

It can be tricky pronouncing my name, Camila Sofia (Cah-me-lah / Soh-fi-ya) - Spanish accent and all. I’m a Latin American with bittersweet Colombian coffee from home running through my red, white, and blue veins. Identifying myself as a “Latin...

The final notes of Tchaikovsky’s overture fade. The curtain creeps upward, revealing rows of watching eyes—toddlers in tutus and married couples on date night—all gathered for the same purpose. I begin shaking fake presents and twirling across the...

Live musicians yell into their mics while the crowd jumps and sings along to their music. I’m out of breath, my chest hurts, and I know my voice will be gone, but I’ve accepted it. An older man stands up on one of the picnic tables, dancing and...

I wasn’t happy about the puzzled faces across the auditorium. The pensive frowns weren't exactly pensive. They were looking at the questions with absolute perplexity. I was standing in front of the projection screen, confident that my problems had...

Despite it being four o'clock in the afternoon on a warm day in May, I was still lying in bed, attempting to fall asleep to relieve the fever. The school day just ended for my middle school friends, and they were free to absorb the sun’s rays and...

A dark, stuffy band closet: a bizarre habitat for rusted brass, violin scraps, and a small preteen girl. It was a forgotten cubbyhole to many, but to me, it was a living, breathing creature that accepted me and my violin and listened to my every...

I woke up to the sound of sergeant instructors yelling to the top of their lungs at 4:30 in the morning - myself bloused in desert camis, and covered in blisters from the six mile hike the night before. Marine Corp Training is not a place to be...

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I'm a two-backpack kind of girl. Let me explain.

The bag on my right struggles to swallow every last sheet from my heft of papers with its gaping jaws and its straps bite sharply into my shoulder,...