Emory University. Just a half-hour's drive from my hometown. Where my dad went to law school. In Atlanta - my favorite city in the world. Close to Georgia Tech, where the majority of my friends are at or will be attending (so I would not have to say goodbye to them). Wonderful professors. Beautiful campus. Great Psych and Hebrew programs. "The Ivy of the South." The first college I had ever stepped into, when I was only seven. One of the only two (US) colleges I had ever even bothered visiting.
My dream school.

Wednesday at 6pm, the regular decision results were released. (I had initially applied EDII but my mom had made me change it to RD when I got an offer from King's College London; my parents had also only let me apply to Emory College, not Oxford.) I wanted to check so badly but I had promised my friend that I would wait for him to finish rehearsal and call me so we could check together. At 8:30pm, he called me. We both logged into our accounts, but… I was scared. My friend yelled in joy, “I got in!” He then explained that he had gotten into Oxford College, not Emory, but he was still very happy about it. I congratulated him, genuinely happy for him, and finally mustered up the courage to check myself. I took a deep breath and, with a trembling hand, clicked on the “View Update” link.

"The Admission Committee has completed the review of Regular Decision candidates, and we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you admission to Emory University."
...
I was rejected. Not even waitlisted like I had expected. No, just flat-out rejected.
…
No. Nononononono. Nooooooooooo. This couldn't be happening. This couldn’t be happening!
My world came crashing down. I informed my friend of my rejection matter-of-factly, congratulated him again, and hung up. Then, I slid down to my knees, crawled under my desk, and began sobbing. In between the tears, I texted my parents that I didn't get in. My mom called me and just started yelling at me. I hung up on her, threw my phone across the room, and continued crying my eyes out.

I had grown up being tossed around between various abusive relatives and had been depressed for essentially my entire life; the first time I had contemplated suicide was when I was eight. Just a few months ago, I had been kicked out of my house and torn apart from my beloved dog, all for trying to do the right thing and help my cousin when he had asked. I had been seconds away from killing myself right then but I had told myself that, soon enough, I would be at college, enjoying my life. I had decided to give life a chance.
I had created a fantasy for myself - going to Emory and having the perfect life. I had become obsessed.

That rejection letter shattered everything. It was amazing just how much a single sentence could destroy someone.

I was angry at my parents for not having let me apply to Emory Oxford (which is easier to get into). I was angry at my mom for having forced me to switch from EDII to RD. I was angry at my aunt for screwing up my sophomore year so badly. I was angry at Emory for rejecting me. Most of all, though, I was angry at myself. I was furious at myself for being such a failure, furious for being so stupid, furious for not having tried hard in school, furious for having an unweighted GPA so atrocious that not even my 99th percentile SAT score, challenging classes, thirty-something awards, club presidency, or legacy status could apparently compensate for. I hated myself... so damn much.

I took out my favorite pocket knife and looked at its alluring blade. I had not self-harmed in over three months. I didn't want to disappoint my therapist by breaking that now.
Oh, what the hell, I'm already a failure; he'll be disappointed in me anyway, just like everyone else is.
So I did it, but... it wasn't sharp enough. So, I got out a razor blade instead.
Four angry, red lines on my wrist for the four years of high school I had screwed up. As I stared at the blood dripping down, I was completely numb, devoid of all emotions, just like I had wanted.
But that wasn't enough; it didn't change anything.

The dreaded emotions returned. I cried for, like, an hour and, well, I skipped school the next day, having no motivation to even get out of bed or, heck, even to binge Netflix.

It's been two days now and I feel like I have no purpose, no reason. I had been getting better over the past few months thanks to my wonderful therapist but I just can't get over this one stupid thing; I don't understand why. I was rejected from Oxford University and the London School of Economics and Political Science - also my dream schools - and I was waitlisted at Northeastern and rejected from UVA. But all of that combined didn't hurt nearly as much as being rejected from Emory. I don't even know what to do anymore.

Yes, I have already gotten into a few schools including King's College London, the University of Manchester, and the University of Georgia’s Honors Program (which is supposed to be harder to get into than Emory so I don't even know what happened there). Yes, I am still waiting to hear back from a few other schools including Vanderbilt, Dartmouth, Boston University, and William & Mary. But Vandy is the only other school that I even want to go to and I have zero chance of getting in. I suppose I could go to UGA for now and try to transfer into Emory or Vandy next year, but...

What even is the point in anything anymore? What's the point in living this stupid life if I couldn't even get this one thing I had wanted so badly because I’m such a failure? What's the point???

(I apologize for the lengthy post.)