I’m not sure if the essay got better or worse, but I tried to take @bonnieboo ’s advice of tieing the story back to my life now. Here is my revised college essay draft

My sandbox was no ordinary sandbox. It was massive, with fresh sand every few months, and lime green plywood walls. The various signatures and doodles crafted by my friends and I added a subtle touch of character, that preserved the memories we made there. My mom ran a daycare out of my house when I was too young for school, and my best friend Emma and her sister Megan also attended. As long as the weather was pleasant, we spent all of our time outside, the majority of which we devoted to hosting our very own sand castle contests. We battled it out, Megan, Emma, and I, for the best sand castle: my older brother, Travis, was always the judge. The goal (decided by Travis) was to make the best chair for him to sit on. As trivial and facetious as the task seems to an outsider, it was everything to us, we all wanted to win, and as soon we heard those three words, “ready, set, go…” we would become hyper focused on our castles. It was as if time ceased to exist outside the plywood walls of our sand oasis.

Determined to win, I would fill bucket after bucket with sand to the rim and carefully level the top to make it perfectly even. I would hoist the heavy bucket into the air and plop down a pristine pile of fresh sand. To my disappointment, as I slowly lifted the bucket to reveal the beautiful castle, it started crumble. The dry sand could not hold itself together. Observing this structural flaw, Travis decided to make the game interesting. Every few minutes, he would award one of us a bucket of water, knowing it was detrimental to making the castle strong. Or, if we were really lucky, we would be awarded the corner of the sandbox as a support for building up our castle. We were ecstatic about the water and covetted wall spot, however, Megan, despite being the oldest, was always given these advantages, which seemed far from fair.

When the time ran out and Travis yelled stop, I would anxiously await judgment. Even after all my hard work, Megan would win every time because of the advantages she was given.

Sand castle contests were my first exposure to life not being fair and having to work harder because of it. Having my castle stomped on until it looked like a pile of brown sugar, while Travis helped Megan build her castle made me frustrated, but more determined to win. Instead of crying or giving up, I decided it did not matter that Travis favored Megan; I would make up for it by doing even more. Emma and I would pack our sand tighter, think of new strategies for sculpting the perfect castle, or even work together to beat Megan. Eventually we started to win too, and we were proud of ourselves for not giving them the satisfaction of making us upset.

As a young kids, we are often masked by innocence, and do not realize how lessons carry with us in life. However now that I am more mature, I realize that those sand castle contests had a larger impact on how I carry myself and act currently. This past fall, I suffered a serious concussion during field hockey when I was slashed in the head repeatedly with a stick while diving to save a goal. In an instant, I went from planning for my future; exploring various career options and colleges, to struggling just sit in a dark room by myself. My head injury plagued me with constant excruciating pain for weeks, blurred vision, dizziness, nausea and a plethora of nasty symptoms. I was forced to sit back and watch as my senior season of field hockey passed before my eyes, and the new goalie struggled to make saves. The hardest part is that people cannot see that I am hurt, so they expect the same from me that they always have even though I know this is not my full potential. As understanding as people try to be, I can tell by the expression on everyone’s faces, that no one truly grasps the agony I am in. I have to make up weeks of work in school, go to dozens of doctors appointments, and suffer through physical therapy twice a week. My concussion has been a monumental set back for me, but once I am healed, and I have persevered through the hours of work and frustration, it will feel so incredible to know I made it through.

It is not fair that I have a concussion, but I still have to suffer the consequences. Just like the sand castle contests from my youth, life is not always justified. The things in life I have to work hard for are the accomplishments that mean the most to me. Struggling to do something and fighting to the end makes it so much more rewarding to me. I have also learned that as courageous as it is to be independent, and strong, it is okay to need water to keep my sand castle from crumbling. By accepting help from my guidance counselor, I have learned how to make a comprehensive plan with my teachers, and to advocate for my needs. Also, I have learned that the only true solution to catching up in school is hours of hard work and discipline, and that I will have to work tirelessly to compensate for the time I have missed. I am lucky to have such an amazing support system and to have also learned how to help myself, because I refuse to let my castle crumble.

Hey prosers, I have a college essay with the prompt: What was the environment in which you were raised? Describe your family, home, neighborhood, or community, and explain how it has shaped you as a person.

I wrote this essay and I kinda hate it, but I am running out of time and other ideas. I would love some feedback (positive or negative)!

Here's the essay:

My sandbox was no ordinary sandbox. It was massive, with fresh sand every few months, and lime green plywood walls. The various signatures and doodles crafted by my friends and I added a subtle touch of character, that preserved the memories we made there. My mom ran a daycare out of my house when I was too young for school, and my best friend Emma and her sister Megan also attended. As long as the weather was pleasant, we spent all of our time outside, the majority of which we devoted to hosting our very own sand castle contests. We battled it out, Megan, Emma, and I, for the best sand castle: my older brother, Travis, was always the judge. The goal (decided by Travis) was to make the best chair for him to sit on. As trivial and facetious as the task seems to an outsider, it was everything to us, we all wanted to win, and as soon we heard those three words, “ready, set, go…” we would become hyper focused on our castles. It was as if time ceased to exist outside the plywood walls of our sand oasis.

Determined to win, I would fill bucket after bucket with sand to the rim and carefully level the top to make it perfectly even. I would hoist the heavy bucket into the air and plop down a pristine pile of fresh sand. To my disappointment, as I slowly lifted the bucket to reveal the beautiful castle, it started crumble. The dry sand could not hold itself together. Observing this structural flaw, Travis decided to make the game interesting. Every few minutes, he would award one of us a bucket of water, knowing it was detrimental to making the castle strong. Or, if we were really lucky, we would be awarded the corner of the sandbox as a support for building up our castle. We were ecstatic about the water and covetted wall spot, however, Megan, despite being the oldest, was always given these advantages, which seemed far from fair. When the time ran out and Travis yelled stop, I would anxiously await judgment. Even after all my hard work, Megan would win every time because of the advantages she was given.

Sand castle contests were my first exposure to life not being fair and having to work harder because of it. Having my castle stomped on until it looked like a pile of brown sugar, while Travis helped Megan build her castle made me frustrated, but more determined to win. Instead of crying or giving up, I decided it did not matter that Travis favored Megan; I would make up for it by doing even more. Emma and I would pack our sand tighter, think of new strategies for sculpting the perfect castle, or even work together to beat Megan. Eventually we started to win too, and we were proud of ourselves for not giving them the satisfaction of making us upset.

As a young kids, we are often masked by innocence, and do not realize how lessons carry with us in life. However now that I am more mature, I realize that those sand castle contests had a larger impact on how I carry myself and act currently. The things in life I have to work hard for are the accomplishments that mean the most to me. Struggling to do something and fighting to the end makes it so much more rewarding to me. I have also learned that as courageous as it is to be independent, and strong, it is okay to need water to keep my sand castle from crumbling. Help from others can build me up and keep me from falling apart when I am afraid or vulnerable. Emma is still my best friend, and just how we helped each other build our castles up together in the sandbox, 12 years ago, we help each other now. We listen to each other’s worries and troubles, comforting each other in times of despair. As important as it is to keep going, it does not always have to be alone. I am lucky to have such an amazing support system and to have also learned how to help myself, because I refuse to let my castle crumble.

Clouds are meant to be light and fluffy. Relaxingly beautiful, stretched across the sky forming unique shapes, like brush strokes.

This is how clouds have always been. Kids dream of playing in the clouds; jumping, flying, bounding through the sky. Clouds are meant to be pure and full of promise.

When I was young, every cloud formed a different shape

I spent hours looking at the sky, imaging what each cloud formed

The future of the clouds was a mystery to me

I imagined myself drifting through the sky, light and full of life

Eventually, the soft gentle clouds turned into turbulant storm clouds. These clouds ruined my fun at times, but I never let them taint my love for dreaming of swimming in the clouds.

I do not know what changed, but suddenly it seems the storm clouds are all that I can see.

As my youth fades so does my innocence, the clouds darken, and the sky is unforgiving. They are ominous and dark, shooting an abundance of lighting in a sliver of a second. They are vaste and never ending. The clouds I am familiar with are no friend of mine, they bring hours of rain, and sadness rushes over me. The clouds I know are my reality, a reminder that life is not what I dreamed it would be. There is no reaching for the sky or floating as I imagined it. Rain drops flood down on me. I do not own an umbrella, for I am not one to be prepared. I stand outside and let myself get soaked, the thunder growls at me from the abyss. The grey clouds loom above my head. My dreams of playing in the clouds have disappeared, I want it all to end

beautiful brown eyes, pools of emotion

pulling in their victim

happiness lingers in their gaze

fluffy brown hair, a beautiful smile

drawing my body closer.

heart pounding in my chest.

it's been so long..

am i finally happy?

how do i identifiy this strange emotion

a stranger to me for years

fear pulls me away

fear of loving myself

fear of being okay

fear of change

those beautiful brown eyes still linger in my mind,

tearing my heart to shreds, because they don’t belong to a love of mine

i let him go

i didn’t love myself and now its too late

he has found someone to love him

and i am still myself

One single tear slowly rolls down a soft pale cheek

Leaving a glistening stream in its wake

Time stands still, as the tear makes its opulent debut

One single molecule slips through

2 parts hydrogen one part oxygen,

all parts emotion; as it cascades down to earth

Plop, the bead shape shifts into a lifeless puddle drifting into the abyss

One single tear, bears its own individual story full of misery and fear

Fear of the unknown, fear of being alone

The tear releases itself as a cry for help

A silent plea for someone anyone to show they understand and care

Yet no one answers the call

No one hears the symphony of pleas all welled up in the single soluble tear

The drop of water dissolves in an instant

another desolate victim releases their silent cry for help

remaining unheard for eternity

I have a house and I have a home. My home is where I grew up, where memories were made. I took my first steps, on the cold hard wood floors. Built pillows forts in the living room, and cuddled on the couch with the beloved blanket “greeny” while sick. My home was the place I learned how to read, was taught right from wrong, and cried when I was upset. The place I could return to after a long day and know my loving family would be there waiting for me.

Then, my family divided and there were 2 waiting for me instead of 3. My parents got divorced and my dad moved into a house of his own. I live at my dad’s half of the time, but it still doesn’t feel like a home. It has been 8 years, but it remains just a house to me. The walls are full of pictures of me when I was young, but they have been hung by someone who didn’t watch me grow up. An outsider looking in tries to share the life we had. The hard wood floors, are cold, but they are not the place of my first steps. I learned how to be traded off between each house like a playing card. Fought over by my parents like my life was a giant game of tug-of-war. This is my house, but it will never be my home. 

She has always been intrepid,

never showing sings of weakness or fear

always putting her kids first while taking care of others

but not neglecting herself

She is authoritative and doesn't let people push her around

Then the divorce happens

she starts to doubt herself as the lawyers come out

trying to figure out how to define herself without her spouse

the meaning of the last fifteen years of her life are unclear

She loses herself for an ominous moment

Vulnerable and sad she looked for a way to heal her pain

There was a man that seemed just right

charming and attractive at first, they started to date

"he would be a good step-dad" the daughter proclaimed

He came bearing  puppies and an abundance of gifts

they should have known it was too good to be true,

but the woman wanted so desperately to be loved, after finding out she wasn't enough

her children were young and she wanted to make them happy too

Soon the manipulation set it,

life became a giant game

toys were given to the kids so he could watch them cry as he took them away

He constantly reminded the mother and her young of his power

for he had physical strength and a blatant disregard for the fact that people make mistakes

He takes up all the air in the room

Screaming at her without allowing her to saw a word

there is a pit in her stomach and she is filled with fear

He spits as he shouts in her face

telling her she isn't good enough

After all of this time she starts to believe him

 his words sting and she begins to doubt herself

He tries to get in her head

"always show me respect" he says

He yells at her for having friends

he wants her all to himself

When she tries to break up with him,

he leaves for months 

But like an itch that can't be scratched; he is always back

He throws her phone into the snow

Throws a plate at her head

Summons the cops to her house on Halloween

She is strong, she does not cry

she does not flinch

she gets out

she is done with his games

the manipulation 

he can not control her anymore

He confronts her

she is ready for war, he will not bully her anymore

He is in an uncontrolable rage

the house shakes under the weight of his stomping feet

A vein pretrudes from his erubescent face 

he grasps his hands around her petite neck

a switch has flipped, the evil glimmer in his eyes has turned into full on crazy

she struggles and gasps for air, and is able to reach a knife on the table

Her hands tremble as she runs out of air

but then in one last fight she jabs him in the heart

His face turns into a blank stare

and his eyes, so full of rage, become empty pools of grey

His hands release and he falls to the ground moaning in pain

She takes a huge breathe of fresh air

She can finally breath again

Her eyes glimmer and her lips start to curve as she breaks into a smile

Holding her teddy bear tight

So simple, yet so complex is her life

Gooing and drooling all day

No responsibilities, nothing to say

She looks at every little thing trying to understand what is going on

Groggy from trying to make sense of things all day, she fades into a deep sleep

Her teddy bear in her grasp

In a blink of an eye that same little girl is catching the school bus for a ride

Her teddy bear is still at her side

When she enters the school, the aroma of new books fills the air

the pencils, the paper, the shiny floors, everything is new

She is nervous and scared to see all these faces for the first time

“Hi I’m Annie” says a girl

A weight has been lifted off her shoulders, she has someone to talk to and is no longer scared

The day ends and the girl leaves with homework and a new friend

As night comes she goes to bed with a teddy bear by her head

In the blink of an eye she is in the 6th grade

with pimples, an attitude, and an uncontrollable rage

She worries about her clothes, her hair, her face

Certain people seem to have everything in place

She makes fun of a kid at school

Her and Annie pick on him for not being cool

She does her school work and gets all A’s

Her dad is worried her being nasty is more than a phase

She goes to bed that night

Her teddy bear no longer by her side

In the blink of an eye she is in high school

She has sports, and a job, and wants to do well

With no sleep the bags under her eyes swell

She straighteners her hair

Hoping the boys will care

She tries her best not to be mean

But sometimes her and her friends bicker

When her license comes she is hardly ever seen

She goes to bed that night

Her teddy bear nowhere in sight

In the blink of an eye senior year starts

She no longer cares what others think

She wants to be nice and help people who might sink

With new friends by her side she walks with pride

She worries about college and where to apply

Her father's expectations of her are so high

With fears of no future a tear runs down her cheek

It is all too much too fast, “where did all the time go she asks”

Her father hugs her and says “It's all going to be okay”

He smiles, for he loves her to the moon and back

That night she goes to bed holding her teddy bear tight

In the blink of an eye she has been admitted to college and is moving in

She is excited to get her future on its way

Nervous about meeting her roommates, she begins to pace

They greet her with smiles on their faces and they feel like they have known each other forever

That night, as she goes to sleep, she unpacks one last box

She takes her teddy bear out and puts him on the shelf

“It is all going to be okay”