Don’t You Dare Reject Me
My parents have informed me that I cannot constantly mooch off of their income after a certain amount of time, and since I don’t particularly like the idea of working at McDonalds, I have to go to college and to go to college, I have to write an essay. I didn’t bother to look at the prompt or anything because all college essays are basically the same: I have to list some things I’m good at and why this college is my future and everything that entails. Ugh. Snore. I don’t even know what college this one is for this time around anyway. It’s not like I need to know. I’ll go wherever I get accepted, preferably close enough to home that I don’t have to do my own laundry. That’s for moms.
I have many attributes to recommend myself to your fine establishment. I have great grades, except for all the D’s in everything, and I was a member of chess club, archery club, art club, track, basketball, and volleyball for a day each. I am an arrogant spoiled suburban white kid whose parents will probably subsidize my existence despite their protests because they secretly feel bad about leaving me with the nanny all the time and something about a lack of emotional support or whatever. The only reason I have over a hundred and forty volunteer hours is because I needed the community service for the purposes of applying, not because I actually like hungry or homeless people. They’re gross.
I never was one that enjoyed school because I consider myself to be above the teachers and academia in general. I was too much of an innovator to handle structured lessons and only did things that pleased me. Classes were boring because there was never anything to do but work and stuff. People really don’t get my view of things because I’m so different and cultured.
Everything should be given to me because my parents told me I was their special snowflake ever since I was small. Usually, when talking on the phone, they describe me as “artistic” not because I’m a counter culture visionary whose room always smells like pot, but because I’m too shallow and lazy for them to recommend any other adjective…and my room smells like pot. Since I am unique and awesome, I will not fall into the traps that plague others my age like “responsibility” and “taxes”. Therefore, I want to get a degree in Communications because I heard those have the easiest classes to take and I’ll just be given the certification I want. Not that I actually plan on applying it to anything. I bet there will be some job where I pull a lever and money will be dumped on my desk. That would save me trips to the bank too.
I don’t really like anything and my existence is pretty meaningless and empty but I don’t feel the need to fill that void with something useful. I think alcohol would suffice. That’s why I hope that I’m applying to a party school where I basically get to pay my fee and get my degree. Thank you for your consideration and I look forward to seeing you in my bright, shining, free ride filled future.
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