Aliens have taken over my body.

In third grade, a teacher told me that I would never be anything outstanding.

"You are not organized. You are impulsive. You are all dreams and no substance, all heart and no thought."

Dear Colleges.

I agree with her.

You are strongly mistaken.

Thank you for the grants. For the admissions. The honors offers that claim they will make my UC experiences the same as private schools. I appreciate them more than anything, but... I am still unorganized. I am still impulsive. My favorite thing to do in my pastime is dream, and listen to music, and have silly romances that go essentially nowhere. Sometimes I like to cry for hours just to get the emotion out of my body.

160 students. Out of 20,000. You picked me? I will never believe that this was not a mistake. I don't belong anywhere, I never have. I'm a bastard breed of two countries, and all of a sudden you want me? Is it because I'm a martyr for education? A pincushion for human rights? A mouth for the voices in this community?

That doesn't make me anything special. I still don't even know why I am here. I have dreams. I want to be a student at the University of Chicago, learn every available language, figure out what I want, find a boy who will make me want to stay. I can compromise, but you make it difficult when you offer me... what's it called? A dove in my hands, when I still have my eye out for the falcon flying overhead.

I think I'm a fraud. I'm sitting here holding a new acceptance letter, evidence of my existance. This paper represents all I have been for the past four years. I have lost friends, boyfriends, even family to this silly process called education. And yet I am so in love with learning. I have become a hermit within a society. But have I earned this... I wish I could tell.