My Soul and I by Sarah Ryan - Winchester Thurston School

assumed things about me. At first, the assumptions could shove me down. I would trip, theirwords like gravel, tearing into my palms and knees and peeling my skin back until it began tosting and foam blood. Eventually I grew calluses, hardly feeling it at all.My soul never grew calluses. It did not know that everything being said applied to it. Notthat everything was offensive, but it meant that people would rather group all black soulstogether than get to know my soul personally. Up until now, my soul thought it was being judgedon merit. My soul wondered why the application readers needed to know it at all. Theapplication had sections for grades, extracurricular activities, recommendations, a personalstatement, and finances, for aid, but what would race tell it? How do skin color and heritageweigh in to the decision? These were neither accomplished nor earned.Marking down black on an application could be to my advantage when I apply to college.If there are two students with identical applications applying they will often go with the minority,or so I’m told. I do see that there is some unfairness to this, but when I apply to school I will doanything to make myself look better. If they pick me to boost their minority numbers, that’s fine.I can show schools my talents once I am already there.My soul does not like to ask for help or to be given an unfair advantage. When itsfortitude and determination pay off, my soul is reassured of its abilities and feels talented.Thinking that it did not earn all of its opportunities crushes it. Did people see its talent? Its hardwork? All its life my soul had thought it was given opportunities because of its effort. My soullost confidence.I saw my soul on the ground nursing its skinned knee, sipping air, trying to keepcomposure. I helped it up. I told it that time heals all wounds; my soul just needed some time to