Jenna Gibson

Mrs. Jankowski
English 12
August 17, 2016
Common App Essay (464)
Tender music played into the room, bitter sweetly pouring into my ears and heart, passing
through our connecting hands-only to exit the room like a cloud softly covers the sun. I watched
my beloved take his final breath to a hymn that ended his sufferings and truly revealed God. Six
years later, the name of the Hymn is tattooed on my forearm. When I look down at the words
inked in my skin my eyes glisten, and an abundance of joy flows through me.
This connection to my grandpa began when he came to live with us during each bouts of
cancer he would continually sing his favorite hymn. Id hear the blissful words reverberating off
the halls when I would wake in the morning, and then cooing from my mothers lips at night
before bed. My grandfather showed me how there is an everlasting joy to life, even when the
wretched walls come tumbling down in all their glory.
The day of my sixteenth birthday I had the title of that hymn, In the Garden, tattooed
on my left forearm, not only as a tribute to my grandfather, but as a form of self-expression.
Everytime I look at it I think of all the beautiful moments I was able to have with my grandpa,
and how much love we shared for one another. However, I often feel ostracized for this act.
Some bash my decision to get a tattoo, and are quick to assume such negative things about it.
I remember one day a customer came up to me, and his eyes intensely scanned me up and
down. His eyes trace my left arm, and zero in on the cursive print. His visage slumped and he
now looked at me like I was some imbecile. Words proceeded to exit his mouth with harsh

intentions, saying things such as, tattoos are trashy; people who have tattoos are good for
nothings that are seeking attention; and over half the people who have tattoos are uneducated
drop outs that are paying for crap rather than a life.
At the time, those words made me hate those who continually depicted my choices, and
assumed horrid things of me based on my likings. However, over time I have learned that who I
am and my self-worth does not come from others self-worth. The moment I am relinquished
from such hate is when I choose to know who I am and not care how others view me. I know that
I am an educated, young lady whos strong-willed, passionate, and has a bright future. An
individual's words dont define my worth any more, I do. Defining our own self-worth is a lesson
all of us must learn in time. This is the only way we can truly be happy in life.