When I applied to my alma mater, I was asked to submit a supplemental essay in answer to the following prompt: “If you were to write an autobiography, what would it be called, and why?” In its original form, my response:

Wylie the Conqueror

I am a statistical improbability. I am triumphant. I am a conqueror.

I have raced against over 200 million other entities and emerged victorious. I have defied the odds, given possibility the middle finger, and spat in chance’s face. I have stared death in the eye and yawned. I have battled a monster 85,000 times my size and found success where all others have failed. I have been torn apart and forced to re-grow 100 trillion times in a mere nine months. I have raced out of my father’s shaft, through my mother’s fallopian tube, and impregnated my mother’s egg.

Right now, you are reading about someone who has overcome all odds and chances of survival. I am someone who from almost nothing, has grown and matured from a single microscopic cell to a five foot and ten inch, one hundred fifty pound juggernaut. Through passion, determination, and sheer bravery, I have survived and thrived into the specimen before you. I am someone who approaches any obstacle that comes my way the same way I did 17 years ago: headfirst.

Wherever I go, I recall how I overcame the greatest obstacle of all, and I apply the same traits I showed when running the race of life to my everyday living. I use my drive, willpower, and audacity in my day-to-day life to conquer whatever obstacles come my way. As a result, if I could title my autobiography, I would name it “Wylie The Conqueror.”