College Essay
The Immortal Achiever
A man sits in an ornate chair. The chair is placed on a balcony, not just anywhere, but exactly in the middle having to be perfect. The balcony is positioned accordingly. It rests on the side of a tall white building overlooking a huge city. It is an empire, but an empire without control as the man feels that control is a problem. The man’s face is genuinely aged, some places more than others. His forehead is creased with the waves of stress and hard work. A shaky hand, a hand that took place of a steady precise hand, scratches the dark tuffs of hair that accompany age. His eyes are ocean blue, and ocean deep with stories. His mouth is a firm line pressed hard into his cheeks. The man sits with a twitch to his lips, remembering those stories that fill his eyes. He closed his eyes and began to swim.
“Blah Blah Blah.” It is the last day of college and the teacher still drones on, knowing the students do not care. The same man, now forty years younger, sits in the back of a classroom. He is in medical school, so he can become a surgeon. He has gotten three other professions, one to become a chef, (he wanted to help the hungry), one in law enforcement, (to protect the people from dangers of the world), and one in Special Forces (to keep peace and fight for justice). He was a Renaissance Man, except that he mastered all. He sits in the back with a smirk on the smile. He is joyful that he can he become a surgeon and help people. The smirk is there because he hates school and that the government is making him attend college, just so he can get a decent job. He always hated the government and especially school. The government told people what to do and expected those people to listen. The man didn’t listen, but he never got caught, he was that good. All that stuff was unnecessary. The man’s eyes already are filled with the bright blue memories. He had no reason to forget tiny details. He was prepared for the worst in life. He had no emotion. He was a rock, he felt no pain and he did not break. He closed his eyes.
Same man. Ten years after college. He still looks the same. He doesn’t seem to age. He just gets stronger and his eyes are flooded with more memories. He is in an office. He is signing his name for his island. He is used to getting what he wanted, so this wasn’t a hard matter. His signature was perfect calligraphy. He obviously knew this day was coming and he wanted to sign with his best. His hard line of a mouth was distorted. This was the last day that he had to conform to the government. He was breaking away. He had a list of people who were coming with him. He was ready to change the world. Then he closed his eyes.
Testing, worst idea created, had to come next. The man wanted to make sure that people were ready for the new world. No one could be as prepared as the man. He had not eaten for three months. It didn’t even show on him. He was actually stronger and healthier. His eyes were now dark blue, not the light blue of memory, but the darkness of analysis. He had to analyze the people coming into his world. He didn’t want the weak or those who had low work ethic. He knew what he wanted and he got it.
So the man sits. He sits in his chair and all of the perfection of his life. He watches as his world is in peace. He sees a kid playing at the park. The kid notices and waves. The man returns the gesture. He has not aged much physically or mentally. He is still the same person he was on the last day of college. He still hasn’t eaten much, but it doesn’t show. He is immortal. This man. A man named Chris. A man that had the will to do something, and a man that got what he wanted. He didn’t dream, he built.
A man sits in an ornate chair. The chair is placed on a balcony, not just anywhere, but exactly in the middle having to be perfect. The balcony is positioned accordingly. It rests on the side of a tall white building overlooking a huge city. It is an empire, but an empire without control as the man feels that control is a problem. The man’s face is genuinely aged, some places more than others. His forehead is creased with the waves of stress and hard work. A shaky hand, a hand that took place of a steady precise hand, scratches the dark tuffs of hair that accompany age. His eyes are ocean blue, and ocean deep with stories. His mouth is a firm line pressed hard into his cheeks. The man sits with a twitch to his lips, remembering those stories that fill his eyes. He closed his eyes and began to swim.
“Blah Blah Blah.” It is the last day of college and the teacher still drones on, knowing the students do not care. The same man, now forty years younger, sits in the back of a classroom. He is in medical school, so he can become a surgeon. He has gotten three other professions, one to become a chef, (he wanted to help the hungry), one in law enforcement, (to protect the people from dangers of the world), and one in Special Forces (to keep peace and fight for justice). He was a Renaissance Man, except that he mastered all. He sits in the back with a smirk on the smile. He is joyful that he can he become a surgeon and help people. The smirk is there because he hates school and that the government is making him attend college, just so he can get a decent job. He always hated the government and especially school. The government told people what to do and expected those people to listen. The man didn’t listen, but he never got caught, he was that good. All that stuff was unnecessary. The man’s eyes already are filled with the bright blue memories. He had no reason to forget tiny details. He was prepared for the worst in life. He had no emotion. He was a rock, he felt no pain and he did not break. He closed his eyes.
Same man. Ten years after college. He still looks the same. He doesn’t seem to age. He just gets stronger and his eyes are flooded with more memories. He is in an office. He is signing his name for his island. He is used to getting what he wanted, so this wasn’t a hard matter. His signature was perfect calligraphy. He obviously knew this day was coming and he wanted to sign with his best. His hard line of a mouth was distorted. This was the last day that he had to conform to the government. He was breaking away. He had a list of people who were coming with him. He was ready to change the world. Then he closed his eyes.
Testing, worst idea created, had to come next. The man wanted to make sure that people were ready for the new world. No one could be as prepared as the man. He had not eaten for three months. It didn’t even show on him. He was actually stronger and healthier. His eyes were now dark blue, not the light blue of memory, but the darkness of analysis. He had to analyze the people coming into his world. He didn’t want the weak or those who had low work ethic. He knew what he wanted and he got it.
So the man sits. He sits in his chair and all of the perfection of his life. He watches as his world is in peace. He sees a kid playing at the park. The kid notices and waves. The man returns the gesture. He has not aged much physically or mentally. He is still the same person he was on the last day of college. He still hasn’t eaten much, but it doesn’t show. He is immortal. This man. A man named Chris. A man that had the will to do something, and a man that got what he wanted. He didn’t dream, he built.