Personal Statement
When I was 18 years old I found myself sleeping in the back of my car during the frigid
winter. I was not among the number of my classmates who had received acceptance letters and
scholarships to attend college during my senior year. I dropped out of high school, which caused
disappointment and strained my relationship with my mother, who ultimately decided to put me
out of her home. For the first time in my life, I did not have a clear direction or anywhere to go.
My circumstances became so desperate that I ended up living in a prison.
During my first night, I held my scarce belongings close as I slept on a mat surrounded
by nearly one hundred strangers. I can recall how dangerous this converted prison-turned-
homeless shelter was. I witnessed so much violence between the men who stayed there. One
night, two rows over from where I slept, one resident stabbed another. I watched it happen.
Afterwards, I made sure to avoid stepping on the bloody spots on the floor. These events served
as harsh reminders that this was not how I wanted my life to end. It was a humbling experience.
Despite my mistakes and ill-advised choices, living in a prison pod allowed me to reflect on the
changes I needed to make to ensure that my present reality did not become my permanent future.
I was raised in City X, a city known for violence, poverty, and its citizens having
negative interactions with the legal system. Looking at my past, I know the odds were against
me. As I grew up, drugs, shootings, and homicides were a prevalent threat and source of trauma.
Growing up on the West Side of City X meant navigating the dangers of a high crime
neighborhood while encountering drug dealers who showed more interest in us than some of our
teachers. By the end of my sophomore year of high school, many of my friends joined gangs,
went to prison, or been murdered. I followed some of their behavior, not realizing that
committing myself to my education could be my escape.