College Admissions Essay-Mistakes And Guilty Conscience

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

Depending on how a person was raised, they either learn from their actions quickly, or slowly learn from their actions by continually repeating them. Some parents have zero tolerance for making a mistake twice. They immediately apply major consequences the first time, so that the child won’t repeat the mistake. The child then grows up to be able to instantly identify mistakes or potential consequences. On the other hand, some parents don’t punish their child. The child eventually has to learn gradually on their own or from

My mind I saw my father, young and determined, working at the crack of dawn in the brickyard, while my mother stayed home to childproof their small apartment. Using the potent mixture of caffeine and chemicals contained in Mountain Dew, he was able to resist the urge to doze off during his daily classes. I saw myself running around the large oak tree that dwarfed our first house, and couldn’t help but smile as I thought about my mom, pregnant with my sister, walking me to the library to play with the puppets and pick up books about my favorite dinosaurs. I saw the terrifying night that the oak tree was stuck by lightning, and heard my mothers voice over the phone at school, eagerly telling me about my new baby brother. My stream of consciousness was broken as we entered the scorching area where they bake the bricks, but I quickly zoned out again as my grandpa began to explain the technical aspects of brickmaking. This time, the memories took place in a new house, as our cozy home had turned claustrophobic with the addition of a fifth member. Quiet walks to the library were replaced with chaotic days at the pool. The cards began to pick up speed, as I got deeper into my life. The dark years of middle school, when my hair covered my eyes and I

I stood petrified. What had happened to me? My father had just been struck, in front of me, and I had not even blinked. I had watched and kept silent. Only yesterday, I would have dug my nails into this criminal's flesh. Had I changed that much? So fast? Remorse began to gnaw at me. All I could think was: I shall never forgive them for this.

Mistakes something that we all do. People are not perfect therefore we will all make mistakes many times in our life. But there are two types of people in the world's ones that will live up to their mistakes and accept that they did it so they can move on. And there are those that will never live up to the mistakes they made and they will never be able to move on. The only way to truly learn from a mistake is to accept that you made one. There have been many times in my life that I have messed up and made mistakes. Some very terrible some not so bad. But none of them never were as bad as this one but, what i learned from the mistake made it all worthwhile.

The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.

As I looked up, the sky was dark the sidewalk illuminated by the streetlights. The sound of crickets and cars echoing through my ears. I walked home that night, tears in my eyes. I was leaving, I couldn’t handle it anymore. The meds, doctors, psychiatrists nothing was working, our lives were in constant danger. By the time I got home the car was gone. By the time, I finished packing it was dawn. The sun creeping in through the shutters. For the next couple of days, I crashed at Jason’s before I headed South. I heard my cell ringing, it was mom… I let it go to voicemail.

At that same moment, a knock came quickly at our door. The sound made me jump, it was as if someone was in danger. I raced downstairs till I saw our neighbor Alex at the door pleading with my mother about something. He spoke as if it was urgent, as if he needed to expel information that was of dire importance. I listened in and heard part of the conversation discussing our city, and how it was on fire. He told my mother that a man was rampaging through the city. He was on fire, and was killing all of the government officials. Father was at work in the city 's financial district. Mother cried for Alex to go with her to look for him, but Alex froze and told her that he values his own life more. Mother began interrogating Alex with questions about

“Y-you!” He stuttered pointing to the lady in My mother was out of town, so I knew it was not her. I grew afraid of the strange woman in my house, the maroon-colored walls in my bedroom was giving me an ominous feeling, making my room look stained with blood. I went quietly out of my door and down the hallway, knowing that they were arguing in the kitchen by the volume of their voices. I paused in the middle of the hall, unsure whether to continue or to go back to my bedroom. I only decided on the former after I heard a muffled shout and the woman’s voice laughing. This decision was the biggest mistake of my life.

“Your grandfather didn’t just die Faith, he was murdered. My father put rat poison in his wine that night that our families got together for a dance. I tried so hard to stop him but he locked me up in my room so I couldn’t.” Embry had a shaky voice and a loud cry now. My head swarmed with terrible thoughts that I couldn’t get out of my head. My whole family thought he died of a heart attack. What if my parents really knew the truth and weren’t telling me? Why is Embry going for me and not anybody else? I collapsed to the ground. Lily immediately ran out from the popcorn cart and held me tight. It felt like my world was coming to an end. Embry kept apologizing like it was all her fault.

“Bao,” I said, “We’re survivors. To return was our goal.” “Maybe, it was, but now I dream about being in Nam. I dream of returning to my brothers who died there.” “I don’t think let alone dream about Nam,” I said. “I feel like I deserted my buddies who are still there. That’s

I dreaded coming home, it was the worst thing I could imagine and as i grew the feeling didn’t change. I would get out of bed quietly not wanting to wake up my mother, my bruises are still healing from yesterday’s beatings. I go to my closet and put on a black, long-sleeved shirt to cover up the scars, a pair of jeans to cover the hurt and a pair of hand-me-down sneakers. I quickly tip-toe past my mom’s room, only to see her lying there, sound asleep with an empty wine glass slowly slipping out of her hand. I grab my book bag and walk out the door and to the bus stop. I walked through the hallways, to each class and I hear the nasty comments and the rumors, secretly believing every word they say. I walked to lunch a sit alone as people pull

Running Rain poured on me as I walked home. I was all soaked and as usual, I was alone. It was close to night, and I lived in Del Mar. The other kids walked on the other side of the sidewalk gossiping and insulting me under their breaths, but I tried to not let the voices get to my head. I just kept treading forward. I got to the streetlights and made my across the street to go hike up the hill that leads to my house. My tucked my hands in my jacket pockets and positioned my head down to the dark, paved, and quiet street.

It had been a year, a whole year of scanning newspapers, searching the internet and calling the police, but nothing had come up. I thought hard about what Heath said. About how seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable. How could the truth ever be hard to hear? The truth of my parents' murder was vital, and that’s the only answer I ever wanted.Soon I was lying on my bed, running my carefully manicured nails over the scars that were daintily painted over my wrists and cheek. I could never remember how I’d gotten them, but my parents had said I had fallen off of my bike. An unfortunate accident. My hands dropped down to the sides of the bed and I let my thoughts wander and crash into each other, almost like a surreal dream. Soon I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, running up the stairs. Clarice and Heath burst into my room, panting and looking at me with searching

You know that pain that seems to never go away? The pain that’s like an eternal black fire searing through your heart aiming to destroy any happy memories vivid enough for you to remember. It’s the pain that slowly engulfs the joy that may ensue when you look at a