Hi guys 
I am not sure which essay to submit to my common app. Please read and give feedback if you have the time.
To others, being an eleven year old meant happiness; it meant a world of imagination; it meant being doted on. But I was an eleven year old girl who had a different version of what this age meant. This age meant required growth; it meant asking my sister why she had major depressive disorder. This age meant maturity; it meant questioning the cuts on her wrist. This age meant reality; it meant holding her as she cried herself to sleep. The age meant deceit; it meant being blackmailed with self harm so she could get her way. I learned life was not sunshine and butterflies, but what the name reality implies - real. At the age of eleven, I watched the person I love struggle, trying to help as best I could to help. I was the younger sibling in truth, but those years convinced me I was eldest in spirit of my family. I was the support system to my sister, and the shoulder to cry on for my mother. An eleven year old found the strength to keep her family together, despite the invisible wound attempting to rip it apart. From the age of eleven, I stopped caring about the trivial preteen issues and began to see the world as it is; a place in dire need of help.
I plan on being someone who changes the world for the better.
I started with simple acts of service, such as cleaning up my neighborhood park so people could enjoy its scenic beauty. At the age of fourteen, I decided to expand past those weekly meetings with a trash bag and poker; I became a volunteer of Kentucky Refugee Ministry. I remember my first meeting clearly, thinking to myself “this is making a true difference.” But alas, this was not big enough; this was not altering the world.
Soon, I discovered Beta Club, a club dedicated to pure service. In my freshman year, I was not only a member, but a Donations Organizer for the club. I also joined National Honors Society and became the elected Service Chair of my Y-Club, but it was still not enough. I then spent months training and preparing for an 8 day service trip in which my Y-corps troop toiled through multiple communities throughout rural Kentucky. Yet, I wanted to do more.
I was selected for the Louisville Youth Philanthropy Council, immediately becoming the elected Co Captain of my philanthropic team, which awarded $15,000 to the non profit organization which aligned best with our chosen mission statement. I pushed for my team to adopt the mission statement I was passionate about: to increase awareness of mental disorders in youth and ensure resources are available. I now felt I was truly going to make a difference in the mentally ill, a community I have felt passionate about since a young age. But even then, I needed more; I was insatiable. That was when I created Dear Darling, a non profit project dedicated to mood lifting for youth with trauma and emotional issues. I enlisted other service-minded teens, providing them the opportunity to make a difference. After writing mood lifting letters entitled Dear Darling, I would deliver those letters to our partner St. Aloysius Center in Northern Kentucky.
But even now, I want to do more than just serve my community or state.
My sister taught me more about the real world than any school or job has; in order to thrive, you must do two things: be strong and help others. I have learned that I want to contribute to the world. I want to go beyond my home state of Kentucky. Armed with my future neuroscience degree, I plan on doing research and work to help those who struggle as my sister did; I plan to find solutions to the issues of the world. I plan to change it.
OR
I thought that receiving a rejection letter from my dream high school would be the most difficult obstacle I would face. I remember sitting on my bed, holding the unopened envelope with a smile gracing my face. I have always worked harder than my classmates, all of which had already received their acceptance letter to this beloved school, so I was confident in my acceptance. Ripping through it, I grasped the letter inside, expecting to see red confetti fall to the floor accompanying my acceptance letter. Instead, I held a slip of paper which contained an apology, a rejection, and a postscript of “do not call the school.”
For days, I cried with this flimsy material under my pillow; I believed there had to be a mistake. I was a straight A student, with membership in multiple clubs. I could not imagine what else I could have done to reach my dream as I watched undeserving students fill in the spots which should have been mine. I could not see how life could get worse.
I was then told that I would have to attend my neighborhood school. I had hope left for this, thinking that if Fate took away my dream, it would not be cruel enough to leave me with an awful reality; I was quickly proved wrong.
My first day at my neighborhood school was the worst thing that could have happened to me. I returned home in tears, jumping into my mother’s arms with sobs of how I did not have any friends there, did not fit in, and all-in-all hated it. After holding me until my cries quieted, she responded, "Maddie, I know this is not what you wanted, but sometimes, life is not fair. We must make the best of a bad situation.”
For a privileged suburban child, I had never truly experienced a life-altering obstacle; I would always find a way to get what I want and do as I please. This concept of life not being fair was foreign. I did not believe my mother at first; how could something that feels so wrong ever be made to be anything but awful? Nevertheless, I took my mother’s advice and decided to face this challenge of rejection.
I started by joining a sport, field hockey. To everyone’s surprise, I became best friends with the goalie. I then decided to join a multitude of clubs, including Beta Club and Y-Club, where I developed connections with my peers through fun, debate, and service. My vigor only grew my sophomore year. I joined Principal’s Forum, a weekly meeting in which this group would meet with Principal Guetig of Atherton High School to discuss and debate issues at Atherton and brainstorm possible solutions. I also became part of the National Honors Society, continuing my service education. By the end of this journey, I had not only made friends at this school, but had integrated myself fully and wholeheartedly into it. I realized that life will not always give you what you want, but it is your choice to either wallow in your misery, as I had originally done, or to hold your head high and persevere with a positive attitude.
Because of this determination, I had not only fully accepted my mother’s statement, but I had learned the second part of this valuable lesson without the help of my mother; I learned that if you make the best out of a bad situation, it will pay off.
My sophomore year, I reapplied to my dream school. After viewing my achievements and fortitude, they sent me a letter in return. Nervously, I held the letter in my hand, slowly ripping the envelope open. I watched as red confetti fell to the floor, my acceptance letter resting in my hand, and a proud smile gracing my face.
Thank you!!!