Unfinished common app essay...on a significant experience...

I chose to talk about a significant experience in my life.

It's not yet close to being finished, but I just wanted to get some feedback on what I DO have so far.

Basically, it's about how I got accused of doing something that I did NOT do. I had to leave my country after that incident (dad found new job) and i never got a chance to help them realize the truth.

I wanted to mention near and in the conclusion how "I" accuse people nowadays without any sort of evidence, and how that's wrong (poorly worded yes i know).

here's waht I have so far...THANKS SO MUCH IN ADVANCE...you guys are great people :)

I did not want it to end the way it did; and the frightening reality is they will never know the truth. Just the bare thought of it brings tears to my eyes. I feel both regret and hatred, but I still forgive them. The next day, I am reminded of it again. Sorrow. Grudge.
Forgiveness.
Did I deserve all this stress, this burden? How could this possibly happen to me out of twelve-hundred other school mates? Why me? The thought comes back and attacks me time to time.
"You did it. Don't lie. I'm going to report you," a classmate said as he approached me.
"Do what," I chuckle, skeptically.
"Don't give me that."
I feel a sudden pang that stiffened my entire body, turning my fingers and toes cold.
It was only two days after we had written our mid-term exams, and I did not have the energy to think about the accusation. I was quite relaxed during the time, and I wanted nothing to ruin it. I was a feather.
I was not expecting the storm.
I found myself confronting a group of students in the hallway. They displayed the same facial expression as the classmate I spoke to the other day, and when their eyes met mine, I knew right away that they were not happy about something. It's got to be me. I try finding a way out of the imminent trouble but there isn't anyway; I'm just going to have to face it – whatever it is.
"You sure? We're pretty certain it's you. You wrote that on the bathroom wall."
Rumor has it that I wrote using a permanent marker two names – a boy and a girl – on the bathroom wall with a heart drawn between them.

Any thoughts...thank you!!! :D

I'm certainly interested in reading more. You have my attention, which is important.

There are grammar errors that need correcting. They detract from the enjoyment of the reading. Keep your tense the same throughout.

Oct 13, 09, 07:50pm - Attached on merging:
My Common Application Essay on...a significance experience and its impact on me

Hello everyone,

this essay talks about a significance (I hope it's unique) experience from the past and its impact on me.

Here it is:

I did not want it to end the way it did; and the frightening reality is they will never know the truth. Just the bare thought of it brings tears to my eyes. I feel both regret and hatred, but I still forgive them. The next day, I am reminded of it again. Sorrow. Grudge.
Forgiveness.
Did I deserve all this stress, this burden? How could this possibly happen to me out of twelve-hundred other school mates? Why me? The thought comes back and attacks me time to time.
"You did it. Don't lie. I'm going to report you," a classmate said as he approached me.
"Do what," I chuckled, skeptically.
"Don't give me that."
I felt a sudden pang that stiffened my entire body, turning my fingers and toes cold.
It was only two days after we had written our mid-term exams, and no motivation drove me to think about the recent accusation. I was quite relaxed during the time and wanted nothing to ruin it; I was a feather.
I was not expecting the storm.
I found myself confronting a group of students in the hallway. They displayed the same facial expression as the classmate I spoke to the other day, and when their eyes met mine, I knew right away that they were not happy about something. It's got to be me. I tried finding a way out of the imminent trouble but there just wasn't anyway; I was just going to have to face it – whatever it was.
"You sure? We're pretty certain it's you. You wrote that on the bathroom wall. It can be no one else but you."
Rumor had it that I wrote two names –of a boy and a girl – using a permanent marker on the bathroom wall with a heart drawn in between them. They "narrowed everything down" to one suspect – me. I was both shocked and disappointed and not a word came out of my mouth. I knew a few people in the small clique. They were my friends yesterday – today my enemies.
I was swept over by insomnia that night and I began reflecting on my day, closing my eyes, like I have always done after every long, arduous day. I clenched my teeth and soon was in agony. I don't want to go somewhere where people pick on innocent people. What evidence do they even have? How dare they? Where did I go wrong? It was a long night full of questions.
The next day went by as expected. And the next day, then the next day.
The day came when my father announced that he, my mother, brother, sister and I would move out of country for his job to a new territory called Canada. I was excited by the news, imagining all the new friends I would meet at a new school; but deep down inside, there was something else behind the back of my head that was telling me that I actually did not want to leave.
Yet.
I can't leave now. They must know. There has to be a way to convince them. But how? I'm going to tell the teachers. No. Do I tell them directly that I'm not the one? No, they're not going to buy that. How dare they accuse me? My mind was racing like a guinea pig in an everlasting spinner in a sturdy cage. I did not have an answer.
I found myself on the plane a couple days after the incident and still did not have a solution. The plane began racing and so did my thoughts. There was no turning back now. It was too late.
I look back into the past every so often and realize that I have memories I want to remember and memories I do not want to remember – just like everyone else. If I had the chance, if only I could find them all right now. It has been five years since the incident and no, they will never find out. They will know me as the "guilty" one for as long as they can remember. Oh David, that pathetic guy. Those were good times.
Why? I realize now that the amount of pain someone can experience when falsely accused can be devastating. It will linger on a person's mind for as long as it can if it is not dealt with. The victim will slowly deteriorate.
I find myself accusing others now and then. I look into their eyes and I am not surprised by what I see. I see dejection. I see disagreement. I see resentment. I can see that you are hurt. I can see that you are mad at me right now. Déjà vu. I apologize.
Sorrow because they hurt me, grudge because they embarrassed me
But forgiveness because they have taught me a valuable lesson, although in a rather unorthodox manner.
I embrace my past experience and hope that it will nurture me as I throughout the rest of my journey.

Thank you so much.

I would appreciate any feedback, comment, or criticism.

And also, any ideas on how I should fix my conclusion? I didn't spend much time on it and I get the feeling that it ruins the rest of the essay.

Thanks again.

I can see that the grammar is much better. Nice.

The conclusion--the essay tells me that you still have strong feelings about the incident--should reflect that you still have the feelings, that pain doesn't always go away with distance and forgiveness. It's ok to have the pain. The conclusion can acknowledge that.

Oct 21, 09, 10:06pm - Attached on merging:
Sorrow. Grudge. Forgiveness. Describe a significant experience in your life

I did not want it to end the way it did; and the frightening reality is they will never know the truth. Just the bare thought of it brings tears to my eyes. I feel both regret and hatred, but I still forgive them. The next day, I am reminded of it again. Sorrow. Grudge.
Forgiveness.
Did I deserve all this stress, this burden? How could this possibly happen to me out of twelve-hundred other school mates? Why am I the one? The thought comes back and attacks me time to time.
"You did it. Don't lie. I'm going to report you," a classmate said as he approached me.
"Do what," I chuckled, skeptically.
"Don't give me that."
I felt a sudden pang that stiffened my entire body, turning my fingers and toes cold.
It was only two days after we had written our mid-term exams, and no motivation drove me to think about the recent accusation. I was quite relaxed during the time and wanted nothing to ruin it; I was a feather.
I was not expecting the storm.
I found myself confronting a group of students in the hallway. They displayed the same facial expression as the classmate I spoke to the other day, and when their eyes met mine, I knew right away that they were not happy about something. It's got to be me. I tried finding a way out of the imminent trouble but there just wasn't anyway; I was just going to have to face it – whatever it was.
"You sure? We're pretty certain it's you. You wrote that on the bathroom wall. It can be no one else but you."
Rumor had it that I wrote two names –of a boy and a girl – using a permanent marker on the bathroom wall with a heart drawn in between them. They "narrowed everything down" to one suspect – me. I was both shocked and disappointed and not a word came out of my mouth. I knew a few people in the small clique. They were my friends yesterday – today my enemies.
I was swept over by insomnia that night and I began reflecting on my day, closing my eyes, like I have always done after every long, arduous day. I clenched my teeth and soon was in agony. I don't want to go somewhere where people pick on innocent people. What evidence do they even have? How dare they? Where did I go wrong? It was a long night full of questions.
The next day went by as expected. And the next day, then the next day.
The day came when my father announced that he, my mother, brother, sister and I would move out of country for his job to a new territory called Canada. I was excited by the news, imagining all the new friends I would meet at a new school; but deep down inside, there was something else behind the back of my head that was telling me that I actually did not want to leave.
Yet.
I can't leave now. They must know. There has to be a way to convince them. But how? I'm going to tell the teachers. No. Do I tell them directly that I'm not the one? No, they're not going to buy that. How dare they accuse me? My mind was racing like a guinea pig in an everlasting spinner in a sturdy cage. I did not have an answer.
I found myself on the plane a couple days after the incident and still did not have a solution. The plane began racing and so did my thoughts. There was no turning back now. It was too late. That was it.
I look back into the past every so often and realize that I have memories I want to remember and memories I don't want to remember – just as anyone else does. Sometimes I wish I could just rewind my life into the past and relive it. If I had the chance, if only I could find them all right now. It has been five years since the incident and no, they will never find out. They will know me as the "guilty" one for as long as they can remember. Oh David, that pathetic guy.
Those were the times.
Why? I realize now that the amount of pain someone can experience when falsely accused can be devastating. It will linger on a person's mind for as long as it can if it is not dealt with. The victim will slowly deteriorate. The victim will shrink. The victim will be shunned.
I find myself accusing my friends now and then. I look into their eyes and I am not surprised by what I see. I see dejection. I see disagreement. I see resentment. I can see that you are hurt. I can see that you are mad at me right now. A sense of Déjà vu ensues.
I often think, 'Sorrow because they hurt me, grudge because they humiliated me.
But forgiveness because they have taught me a priceless lesson, although in a rather unorthodox way,' when I find myself lamenting the experience.
I embrace my past experience and anticipate its continual nurturing in me throughout the rest of my life journey.


Thanks so much ppl!!!

My first impression with this essay is that you clearly have a great personal writing style. The short, cryptic sentences, the excellent use of anaphora, everything works very well in conveying to the reader a sense of who you are as a writer.

However, my biggest critique would be that I don't feel like your essay does a good job of describing or defining your world. You talk about your past experiences, and your experiences with friendship, but nowhere do you address the prompt by directly stating what your "world" actually is.

I feel like this is a strong essay, but it would be a better fit for the prompt if you could find a way to clarify your themes.

I'll be sure to make that change. Thanks for your feedback. I really appreciate it.