Five hundred words. You would think that an AP English student would have a rather firm grip on five hundred words. Yet sometimes a love of writing creates more of an issue than a solution. My mind automatically starts spewing out everything I could possibly write five hundred words about, baseball, law, American history, The Catcher in the Rye. I could write five hundred words about anything. There are so many words I would love to use, well over five hundred of them. Beautiful words that I would like to string into sentences. Sentences that turn into stories, stories that spark emotion, only if the words are put together correctly. Five hundred words about what I bring to the table. The only words that speak beyond my grade point average and my SAT scores, the only personal glimpse of me. The most important five hundred words I will ever write, besides maybe my wedding vows, or my application to law school. Five hundred words that decide my future. Five hundred words to explain who I am, although, I am not too sure that I know that to begin with. Having to place seventeen years into five hundred words. Five hundred to explain the lessons I have learned, and the memories I have had. Just that small number of words to express the love I have for my parents. The respect for my father for going back to school until I was three to get his masters degree. The adoration for my mother for always speaking her mind and backing down to nobody. There is so much I need to convey in these five hundred words.

I am opinionated. I love controversy, but I hate ignorance. I only fight for a cause when I am educated. I only take a side if it creates passion. I envision myself in front of a courtroom, fighting for my cause because it induces emotion. It would be a life well lived if it was spent standing up for what is right, defending the truth, and giving all victims a voice. I picture myself in a pencil skirt and a sports jacket, with a briefcase and confidence to speak and argue. Knowing I have that ability and potential, yet trying to display it in just five hundred words.

Too little to convince a stranger to trust in my future, but just enough to make them take a gamble. This reminds me that I need another five hundred words to thank everyone whose gotten me this far. From the the people that helped me survive to the ones that made me suffer. I learn from my mistakes and embrace my wrong doings. Mistakes create a life story, and like Tim O’Brien said, “Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can’t remember how you got from where you were to where you are.” These are the first five hundred words of where I’m going.