My Personal Statement for Lynn University
I rarely boast about my own writing but this is brilliant. It's a personal statement I wrote for Lynn University in the states. I think I got in. But then again, with writing like this, who the hell could refuse? Lol. Forgive me but, hey, I'm allowed to be egostical once in while.
Someone I know once complained that her dreams lacked strength and that her passions were futile. I consider myself to be a fairly contemplative person, rather idealistic at times, and such a statement caused me to question the very nature of my own dreams and the quintessence of my passions. Though the incident may seem inconsequential, it provoked me to reevaluate my life so far and who I ultimately wish to be. And though the question seems to be yet another of Life’s mysteries we are simply meant not to make sense of, I felt a deep loss when it occurred to me that my dreams and passions may be too weak and futile to be realized.
Since I entered high school, I have dreamt of becoming a doctor. I nurtured my dream into my senior year, and along with my compassion for the underprivileged of India, decided to dedicate my life to the many that lack basic health care. My passion for writing, at one point of time, conflicted with this dream but I realized the fact that writing can be treated, with equal interest and dedication, as a hobby alongside an occupation. In India, the dream of becoming a doctor is immensely clichéd. Indian parents wish for their child to become either a doctor or an engineer merely because of the financial stability and social standing that is attained in doing so. My liberal (yet inherently Christian) upbringing allowed me the freedom of realizing my own dreams and my parents did not impose their desires on me. I am justified, thus, in considering my intention of becoming a doctor as a product of genuine passion and aspiration. Yet, all this hung by a single thread of faith as I considered the frightening possibility: were my dreams essentially hollow? Was I revolving my whole life around castles in the sky? Was there anything else except mere fancy that comprised the passion that saturated my dreams? All my life I had believed in the potency of my dreams and, for the first time, I found myself questioning their very constitution.
The profundity and beauty of truth lies in the fact that it is experienced in one’s moment of extreme vulnerability. Through all the noise that deafened my mind in my moment of doubt, it was the small, pure whisper of truth that seemed the most certain. I just had to recognize it. I realized that my dreams did lack strength and that my passions were futile. But what did my dreams need to be stronger then? What made my passions futile? It was in my moment of truth that I realized that the only things my dreams had to be stronger than were my doubts; the only thing that can limit the power of my passions is myself. When I become my future, the future becomes mine.
Someone I know once complained that her dreams lacked strength and that her passions were futile. I consider myself to be a fairly contemplative person, rather idealistic at times, and such a statement caused me to question the very nature of my own dreams and the quintessence of my passions. Though the incident may seem inconsequential, it provoked me to reevaluate my life so far and who I ultimately wish to be. And though the question seems to be yet another of Life’s mysteries we are simply meant not to make sense of, I felt a deep loss when it occurred to me that my dreams and passions may be too weak and futile to be realized.
Since I entered high school, I have dreamt of becoming a doctor. I nurtured my dream into my senior year, and along with my compassion for the underprivileged of India, decided to dedicate my life to the many that lack basic health care. My passion for writing, at one point of time, conflicted with this dream but I realized the fact that writing can be treated, with equal interest and dedication, as a hobby alongside an occupation. In India, the dream of becoming a doctor is immensely clichéd. Indian parents wish for their child to become either a doctor or an engineer merely because of the financial stability and social standing that is attained in doing so. My liberal (yet inherently Christian) upbringing allowed me the freedom of realizing my own dreams and my parents did not impose their desires on me. I am justified, thus, in considering my intention of becoming a doctor as a product of genuine passion and aspiration. Yet, all this hung by a single thread of faith as I considered the frightening possibility: were my dreams essentially hollow? Was I revolving my whole life around castles in the sky? Was there anything else except mere fancy that comprised the passion that saturated my dreams? All my life I had believed in the potency of my dreams and, for the first time, I found myself questioning their very constitution.
The profundity and beauty of truth lies in the fact that it is experienced in one’s moment of extreme vulnerability. Through all the noise that deafened my mind in my moment of doubt, it was the small, pure whisper of truth that seemed the most certain. I just had to recognize it. I realized that my dreams did lack strength and that my passions were futile. But what did my dreams need to be stronger then? What made my passions futile? It was in my moment of truth that I realized that the only things my dreams had to be stronger than were my doubts; the only thing that can limit the power of my passions is myself. When I become my future, the future becomes mine.
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