College Graduation T-20 Days

In 20 days, I will be walking across the steps of my school library and graduating from my University. To say the journey has been an experience wouldn't do it justice; it has been long, but it has been worth every single step. And it's now, during this time, that I reflect on the past four years. How have I changed? How have I grown?

I recently came across my college application essay, and I must admit, it sparked emotions within me. So, I decided to share it with all of you today. I hope you enjoy!

I am a performer. Performing is telling someone’s story. I found myself in all the music and stories I shared with other people. When I dance, I portray the pain someone went through in his or her life. I tell the story of someone’s hopes through figure skating, and I share their happiness and desires through singing in a musical. After years of telling everyone else’s stories, I created my own. I don’t know where my story will end, but I know what I have accomplished.

I winced as my coach Nina tightly laced up my skates. Five minutes until my name was called, and I could already feel the tension. “Thirty- six hours a week, bloody feet, a bruised body. You remember that, don’t you? Don’t let it all be for nothing.” Nina said. She was right. I spent months getting to where I am today, regionals, Lake Placid, the Olympic ice rink. Getting off the ice I knew I didn’t win, but seeing my family come running down the bleachers with smiles on their faces, I knew it didn’t matter. What truly mattered was the fact that I could make it that far.

I could hear the tap shoes hitting the worn wooded floors. I could hear the calming hum of the ballet music. I could smell the sweat and the distinct scent of the over used dance shoes. Yet for some reason I couldn’t open the door in front of me. Mom shuffled her feet impatiently behind me. Before I knew it she opened the door and shoved me inside. And there I was, dance class. The moment I stumbled in the fear of having been away for three years diminished. The teacher walked in, welcomed us, and immediately started the music. Looking down I realized my feet were moving along to the rhythm of the music, almost effortlessly. A happy giggle escaped as I allowed a smile to form.

“So what will you be singing today?” My breath hitches as I slowly and cautiously responded, “The Impossible Dream from the musical Don Quijote, Man of La Mancha.” The music director nodded and whispered under his breath, “Good song, very daring.” Of course I knew it was daring, the story itself was outside the box. The reason I chose it? I felt determined and hopeful whenever I sang the inspiring song. The room was silent, all waiting in anticipation. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders, and allowed a smile to form. “To dream the impossible dream,” I began as I portrayed the never-ending battle Quijote took part in to pursue his dreams. “Still strove, with his last ounce of courage, to reach, the unreachable star”, I continued. And in that moment, I realized that there is no room for impossibility in the mind of a dreamer.

In just a few short months, the curtains will close, the costumes will be packed up, the worn shoes will be thrown into a corner, and my final high school performance will be over. By then I would have been the imaginary singing alligator, a suppressed high school student, a flirtatious secretary who conformed to societal gender norms, and a Parisian student who believed the only way to be successful was to find a boyfriend and get married. I told the story of the French Revolution and the need to be free, of the little girl whose only dream was to be loved, of the a little mermaid who wanted to be different, and of the soldiers who fought bravely for our country. Now that these stories are over, I’m walking away ready to tell my own.