Personal Statement
- Submitted by: guiya
- Views: 819
- Category: Other
- Date Submitted: 11/24/2010 08:35 AM
- Pages: 7
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Do not let your fire go out, sparked by irreplaceable spark. And the hopeless swamps of the not quite, the not yet, and the not at all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish. And lonely frustration for the life you deserved but never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists. It is real. It is possible. And it is yours.
My name is fatimah tariq atta. Age 17, I have two brothers and one sister. Being the younger daughter I have always been the pampered one, the one looked after, no wonder going to school seemed like a torture to me. I remember my first day in school I did not have the merest concept of going to a place without my mother there. As expected the “little daughter” of Mr and Mrs Tariq atta threw the brattiest tantrum and refused to let go off her mother. I thought my world was falling apart. How could I be expected to stay with strangers for 5 hours, stay away from my mother, stay alone. After days of crying, refusals to go to school and a long discussion between the elders everyone decided that my mother would sit in the school office while I attended my class. I remember I used to keep her car keys in my pocket everytime a wave of paranoia swept me in class id give the key a gentle squeeze and I would know I was safe. My mother was right there with me. my mother continued to sit in school with me till I was 9. It was then that one fine day the “little girl” grew up. The “little girl” began to assert herself. The “little girl” realized she was a someone.
I have always had a dream of being someone. Someone who made a difference in the world. It sounds like a cliché,I know, but I have always percieved myself in the bigger picture. Everything ive want cannot all be about me: it has to be for the greater good.
I spend 11 years at convent. 11 of the best years of my life. My echoes of my laughter, my shadows, my footsteps, all my childhood memories are embedded in that campus,my school,my safe haven.sports have always been a...
My name is fatimah tariq atta. Age 17, I have two brothers and one sister. Being the younger daughter I have always been the pampered one, the one looked after, no wonder going to school seemed like a torture to me. I remember my first day in school I did not have the merest concept of going to a place without my mother there. As expected the “little daughter” of Mr and Mrs Tariq atta threw the brattiest tantrum and refused to let go off her mother. I thought my world was falling apart. How could I be expected to stay with strangers for 5 hours, stay away from my mother, stay alone. After days of crying, refusals to go to school and a long discussion between the elders everyone decided that my mother would sit in the school office while I attended my class. I remember I used to keep her car keys in my pocket everytime a wave of paranoia swept me in class id give the key a gentle squeeze and I would know I was safe. My mother was right there with me. my mother continued to sit in school with me till I was 9. It was then that one fine day the “little girl” grew up. The “little girl” began to assert herself. The “little girl” realized she was a someone.
I have always had a dream of being someone. Someone who made a difference in the world. It sounds like a cliché,I know, but I have always percieved myself in the bigger picture. Everything ive want cannot all be about me: it has to be for the greater good.
I spend 11 years at convent. 11 of the best years of my life. My echoes of my laughter, my shadows, my footsteps, all my childhood memories are embedded in that campus,my school,my safe haven.sports have always been a...