At the beginning of the college application process, I felt two things: stress and hope. Stress because the application process is so grueling and one of the worst things I've ever done. You have to write multiple essays that show who you are as a person and show why you want to go to that school, but you also have to make sure you are answering the question, avoiding cliches and being different. On top of that, it has to be a certain number of words. It's the worst, but the thing that gets you through is hope. Hope that the past four years of work matter. Hope that you get to go to the school of your dreams. Hope that you can make everyone who helped you get to where you are proud.
Being from a big city and moving to what was essentially a suburb of Miami, I always knew that I wanted to go to a city school. I knew I didn't want to go back to Chicago to go to Northwestern or University of Chicago for two reasons: 1. I wanted to get away from my parents and if I went to a school where they could just "stop in," they would just stop in (love you, Mother and Father); 2. I had absolutely no chance of getting into either school. So I moved cities. My dream school from about sophomore year on was New York University, a.k.a. NYU. I toured the school junior year during spring break and fell even more in love. So in the middle of October 2015, I submitted my application to NYU, early decision. Now for those of you who don't know, early decision means that if you get into the school, you are contractually obligated to go there; different from early action, which just means that you sent your application in early and will get a decision back early.
The month of November and the first few weeks of December of 2015 felt like the longest weeks of my life. It's during that waiting period when you feel like your future is at stake and you just want an answer. On December 15th, my decision came out. I opened it the first minute it came out but didn't read past the first word. It wasn't congratulations like some of the other acceptances I had gotten so far, so I knew right away what the decision was. I was denied from my ED.
I had spent all day telling myself not to get my hopes up but in those last few minutes, I let myself believe that I was going to get in. I texted some of my friends the news and was met with nothing but positive words from them -- and that helped, but I was still crushed. I didn't cry right away. I started crying a few minutes later when my brother was yelling at me to walk our dog and I had to say that I didn't get in out loud. When I said it, it sounded like a held back sob. I then slammed my door, pulled all of my NYU gear out of my closet and shoved it into the trash. I was sad and angry. I had to watch as some of my classmates excitedly posted on Facebook about their acceptances. It felt like the end of the world.
I'm not going to lie, it was hard to go back to school the next day and slowly have to tell people that I didn't get in. In fact, that next day was probably worse than the day of the actual denial. As time went on, I started to feel better and better about it. I wasn't alone, either. Some of my friends also faced denials and deferrals to their top choice schools. We all bonded together and comforted each other. What I'm trying to say is, you need to rely on the support from your friends and family. It gets better.
I am a strong believer in everything happens for a reason. If you get denied from your ED school, I promise you your life is not over. I am still achieving my dream of going to a city school that I love. You will find the right school for you. It will all work out, I promise.
