My Inspiration

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*This was a piece I wrote for a college essay, let me know what you think.

Trapped by a life of drugs, exploitation, sex, and financial struggle, my mere existence was a question in the eyes of my mother. My development into a baby in my mother’s womb soon became an option. I was a choice waiting to be made, and my chances of making it out as a living newborn soon became relatively low. The day after my mother’s decision was made up, a revision in my destiny occurred. Her twelve year old sister resolved to take full responsibility of my life, denying my mother the possibility of an abortion. My mother agreed with these conditions, and my presence in my aunt’s life would ultimately alter her lifetime plans and goals. She was deprived of an education, a steady income, and a suitable household, for the sake of my existence. Her sacrifice for my life means more than words to me, and I plan to honor her through my success in pursuing a stellar post-secondary education.

For most of my youth, I was oblivious to the switch in identities between my mother and my aunt. I considered my aunt as my "mother" and my biological mother as my "aunt". Protected by this sweet ignorance, I continued my childhood as any other, with the exception of my "mother's" extra push on my education.

When I was four years old, I can recall coming home to learn how to read. My "mother" presented before my eyes, “Cry Baby Duck”, and informed me that I would become a very important person one day, and it was extremely relevant that I learn how to read. Becoming excited by her enthusiasm, I sat hours upon hours on the sofa with her pronouncing unfamiliar sounds and connecting them with the words on the pages. Intentionally, her educational drawbacks soon became my strengths. I excelled academically throughout elementary, middle, and high school with the mindset that one day it would be up to me to rid my family of our financial hardships through my educational success. Knowing this, my "mother" felt obligated to tell me the truth about my past.

I can distinctly remember the day that my "mother" approached me with teary eyes, a shaken voice, and the information regarding my true beginning. She liberated my ignorance and captivated my respect towards her through apologetic sobs and reluctant tears. I calmly accepted the truth, comforted her with a steady gaze, and reassured her that I would never abandon her as I had been by my biological mother.

In my heart, my biological aunt is greater than a mother to me; she is my angel. I will forever be thankful for the chance she took with me and the sacrifices she made along the way. In return, I will succeed in the educational path she has laid out for me, and become the important person that she spoke of when I was a child. Through me, she will be able to fulfill her lifetime dreams, where happiness and pride measure her success.
Last edited by stellar07star on Tue Nov 27, 2007 10:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.




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Hi! Welcome to YWS! Please take a few moments to look over the Rules and Guidelines.

This isn't very bad in the least, though it seems to be missing an into? I'm assuming this is some kind of college admissions essay or scholarship essay, and if it doesn't exceed the word limit (or one page if an admissions essay...as anything past one page is disregarded), it would really help to have an introduction. Why should we care about your journey in the womb? Something needs to be said about it, I believe.

Happy Editing!
Via
My Literary and Arts Blog

"I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met." -The Wedding Date




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Being a general "this-is-my-life" work of non-fiction, this is good. It isn't sob-story-like, as you clearly don't want sympathy. However it did seem a bit... what's the term... shallow? Like you're standing in front of a class telling them a story you're making up on the spot. Maybe that's how essays are meant to be, but I'm judging this as a non fiction story, and so it shall be!



For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein