Background: this was originally an assignment for AP English IV Literature as a college applications essay. However, I ended up not submitting it due to the inherent snobbish tone of the essay; perhaps you’d like to take a look-see and chuckle at my attempt at creativity.
At an early age I fell victim to one of the most common diseases to plague children and adults alike. When I was but 14 months old, my mother noticed abnormal behaviors manifesting themselves in my chubby infant body. My brain seemed constantly in overdrive, and one can imagine her horror when one night, I stood up on my bed and belted out all the lyrics to an old Cantopop song, as if possessed.
I was tormented with speech impediments, including but not exclusive to the jumbling of my words, blanking out when trying to recall the representative word for an idea, and creating conglomerate sentences that sounded like a strange blend of French, Spanish, and Portuguese. When these verbal frustrations heightened to a climax, I would shut myself in my room and practiced a language no one spoke, forming clear vowels and sharp tones alike in the air with my silvery flute.
Early in my high school career, I attempted to fit in – to be “normal” like everyone else. I submerged myself in false delusions that perhaps if I ignored my disease it would no longer stalk my conscience. I scourged desperately for the panacea to all my woes, but no matter how hard I tried to convince others I was not a crazy freak, the more the disease reared its head in rebuttal.
As I entered senior year with a full load of seven AP classes, I was labeled a “masochist” by many; my mind was now so warped I had resorted to self-harm, although I clearly didn’t see it that way. Day after day I downed pill after pill of the drugs that I was somehow convinced would suppress the terrible creature in my body; drugs with strange names such as Calculus, Physics, and Economics. My life entered a low point as I struggled to keep up with classwork, only to find myself falling behind. My report card was incessantly graced with sub-par marks.
My disease has presented me with the gift of speech at an early age, knowledge of five instruments, six languages to try to keep separate from each other, three consecutive years as a state science fair finalist, survival of 12 AP classes, an untamed love for astrophysics and computer science, and four hours of sleep on a good day. In a naive attempt to mask what I naturally assumed others would consider the “insanity of ambition”, I entered a Chinese folk dance company, ran my own singing organization, and participated in theatre productions. However, my extracurricular efforts to tame my sickness were to no avail; I ended up pouring as much time into those as I did with my schoolwork, forcing my disease into overdrive as I learned to masterfully balance a full schedule.
So now, as a desperate last-measure, I am appealing to the elusive facility named College, the only place where I may either find the cure to my chronic illness… or perhaps watch, blatantly amused and strangely pleased, as this condition worsens and haunts my mind for life.
After all, my disease is called the Pursuit of Excellence, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.