One of My Billion College Essays

On Saturday, June 2, 2019, my life came to an end. This wasn't a bad day. In fact, I'd just had one of
the best times that can be had sitting still in a dark room for a couple hours, and that's coming from
someone who wants to study film. My cheeks were sore from smiling but had tears rolling over them.
Tunes flowed over my brain waves and a few lyrics managed to escape my lips. I had just seen Rocketman,
which I promptly decided was the best movie I'd seen in years, one of the best in my life. I loved every
single frame of it, and thus that meant that my life was over.

See, how could I possibly even try to make anything that was even close to as good as the thing I had just
witnessed? A movie that so wonderfully constructed tone and theme, with the breathtaking beauty of
symbolic cinematography, plus utterly lovable characters as well as flippantly hatable ones. And the sheer
joy of a well-choreographed musical sequence? It was all over.

Paralyzed by the dream-crushing fact that I would never make anything as good as Rocketman, I drove
home, other career options pitching themselves to me in my head.

Writer spoke first: "You could work by yourself!" That was a plus, I conceded, but would I ever leave the house if I didn't have a reason to? Doubtful. I called on the next one holding up its hand.

"You'd make money!" Accountant shouted, ever the logicist. Who let this one in? I thought. Always a history-english and never a math-science child, I assumed they vetted these at the door.
Though the temptation of dollar bills was not absolute zero, I had to remind myself that my days are
mine, and they would not be spent waiting for the work day to be over.

CEO didn't have to shout. He just sauntered in like we'd all been waiting for him. "Boss people around," he said, not even making a full sentence because his words are just that valuable. Though this was definitely tempting, I shuddered at the thought of living in the cold, harsh reality of business, of being exposed to people just doing what is best for themselves. I turned to the opposite end of the spectrum, allowing Therapist to speak. They didn't, but gave me a supportive nod, encouraging me to spill my own beans. I ignored them.

I sorted through all these possible careers, kicking some to the curb immediately, letting others speak their piece, but none of them excited me as much as I'd hope to be by my future. It wasn't until I had sorted through the crowd, painstakingly ranking each one, when I noticed Filmmaker in the corner. 

"I thought you didn't want me," it said. "I'm extremely competitive and unpredictable and-"

"Yes," I interrupted. "But I love you."

Filmmaker pulled out a clipboard and slid some bedazzled sunglasses up its nose. "Right. Then we have some work to do."