Was it nerdy of me to kiss the envelope just before I mailed it? I did it anyways, hoping my saliva would give it some kind of powers of getting accepted into Princeton. I wish I could say that I’ve been dreaming of being enrolled into Princeton all my life, but it isn’t about that. It’s just about being accepted.




When I was a little kid, I didn’t dream about Princeton; I dreamt of my father finally looking at me, satisfied as a child I was. It seemed like I always was just going to be like my mom. He resented her, always thinking out loud why he ever hooked up with a hussy like her. When my mom left I was two, well, I never really knew. I don’t remember how it was or what she looks like. My dad never talks nicely about her or keep any pictures on the wall of her. I have brown hair. Maybe I got it from her. Dad’s hair is too light.




At school I was pretty popular. I hung out with all the glossy figures, went to their parties, even ‘hooked up’ with some of them. Even with them, I never felt accepted, or real. It felt as if we hung out with each other because no one else would. I looked at the other cliques in our school and how weird they were. They were themselves; unafraid of their peer’s judging eyes. And they were accepted. It was something I was longing to find. Something they were able to pick up at an early age.




That’s why I need to go to college. TO think that they come across my name and thought that I was college-worthy, especially theirs, it was everything. I wanted them to want me. Maybe then I could find someone there to accept me as well. After all, in the world we live in now, acceptance is key.

.