College Application Letter

        Who taught Albert Einstein to do math? That was me. Who taught Michael Jackson to do the moonwalk? That was me. One does simply walk into Mordor. I am that one. The sun does not burn me, I burn the sun. When it comes to stare downs, I've won more than I could count. Against statues. I also pride myself greatly in the fact that my teeth are perfectly straight.
       Once I looked Medusa in the eye, and she turned to stone. My vocal range is 12 octaves. On a lazy Sunday, I run laps around the planet. My abilities are many, one of them being that I can turn water into wine. I have been on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Six times. Salvador Dali wishes he could paint Surrealism as well as I can. I make award winning Kraft Dinner.
       The flu has to get Pascale shots once a year. I wrote songs for The Beatles. I wrote The Bible.  Last summer I walked through the Sahara Desert in a Gorilla suit, and lived to tell the tale. Lighting does not strike me. I strike lightning. My only mistake? Thinking that I made one. Yet, I have still not gone to college.

                                                                        Unprepared

As I enter the room, I am caught in the hustle of my many peers hurriedly trying to find their assigned desks. After I make my way through the swarm, I find my desk and sit down. I hear a man's nasally voice through the microphone, going over the rules we've all heard so many times before. Finally, he shouts "Begin!" and the clock begins to count down. As I look down at my paper, fear courses through me as I feel my heart begin to speed up. I am filled with regret as I think of all the time I'd wasted doing nothing, when I could have been studying. In my mouth remains the bitter after taste of coffee, which I'd had earlier, with the hope that it would help me to think. If anything, it's made my situation worse. Someone is clicking their pen, another tapping their foot on the wooden floor. I feel as if it’s slowly driving me insane.  My hands are shaking as I nervously play with my hair, though the feeling of my soft hair twining around my fingers offers some comfort. I smell my own sweat, it slowly making me more and more uncomfortable as the warm liquid pools underneath my sweater.  I desperately try to think, but I feel as though my mind has gone blank, that any small piece of information I might have known has left me completely. As I reach for my pencil, I know that these next few hours are going to be the longest I'll ever endure in my life.