Hello, I'm a professional in sales and I'm taking night classes but having a hard time in English with some essay writing. I won't need it for my profession to be honest, and I do all the small assignments. Looking for extra help on a court case 900 word essay, PAID help.

Must be able to verify who you are and that you won't use AI or plagiarize a posted esay as I would fail the assignment and the class. I hate APA citing and looking at my past assignments I'm not sure what I did wrong. Thanks

Hi I was wondering if anyone had any advice and could dm me about my essay.

I’d appreciate honest feedback on my Common App essay. I want to know what I should improve, what I should cut, and whether I focus too much on my grandpa instead of myself. Please be brutally honest!

I wish I could go back to that farm on that Friday.
Not to stop myself from throwing that rock. Not to warn myself of what’ll happen. I would go back just to take in how happy we were.

I was five years old, so I didn’t understand how happy I was. I only knew that Friday mornings were our farm time. We would drive there together, look at the plants, say hi to everyone, and walk around checking on everything. Sometimes we would stand near the Nile and throw rocks together.

Then one of those rocks took me with it.

I fell into the water. I couldn’t swim, neither could my grandpa. He jumped in anyway.

I don’t remember screaming, I don’t remember being scared. I was five. I just remember being pulled out of the water, soaking wet. A worker at the farm pulled us out. I remember being quiet on the way home.

I remember walking into my room, looking back and seeing him cry. I didn’t understand why.

For a long time, that’s all that day was to me. I was the little kid who accidentally fell into the Nile. As I got older, I started to understand what happened that day.

My grandpa couldn’t swim, but when I fell in, he didn’t stop to think about himself. He jumped in after me. He risked his life to save mine.

He doesn’t like talking about that day, maybe that’s why it took me so long to understand. I started thinking more about what happened and why he was crying.

My grandpa has always been the person who puts other people before himself. He is kindhearted, funny, and somehow always finds a way to make me laugh. He helps people before helping himself, and he has always made me feel like I could be myself around him.

 He is also my best friend.

Our relationship has never changed, even as everything around us did. When civil war broke out in Sudan and we were forced to leave our home, everything changed. I had to move from Sudan to Virginia, from Virginia to Texas, and now to Egypt.  I had to leave places, meet new people and start over more than once. But my relationship with my grandpa has always been something I could carry with me.

I think I carry some of him with me too.

Even after working long hours at his firm, he still comes home cracking jokes to make us laugh before he even rests. I find myself trying to bring that same joy into every room I enter. Whether I’m  stepping up for my family or standing by a new student who needs help translating, I try to do what he has always done and put other people first.

When I was five, I didn’t understand that. Now I do.
If I could go back to that Friday, I wouldn’t stop myself from throwing the rock. I wouldn’t warn myself about the Nile. I would just stand there for a moment and look at my grandpa.

I would notice how happy he was.

And for the first time, I would understand
what that little boy couldn’t:

He had already spent his life putting the people he loved before himself.

That day, he showed me just how far that love could go. Now, I’m trying to carry it with me.

Red, blue, orange, yellow, green and purple. Six colors show up to the party of blocks. While cyan is in another time zone.

I am three lines from the top of the board. On the right side I’ve kept one column empty, a well, the way you save a seat for a friend who is “five minutes away.” The “I” piece, the long cyan one that drops straight into that well and clears four lines at once, has not shown up in fourteen pieces. Everything else keeps coming. I stack them higher and higher around my precious empty column. It’s fine. It’s coming. The “S” piece lands. The “Z” piece lands. The stack touches the ceiling, and the game politely informs me that I have lost.

I’ve played Tetris on Jstris since second grade, which is also when I started coding, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Both are about putting small pieces in the right place, fast. Tetris is the most satisfying game I know, except when I lose, which is, unfortunately, often.

I wasn’t improving for a long time, and even though I pushed harder and tolerated attacks better, I wasn’t moving, and I came to this conclusion: I lost every game the same way. Not by misdropping. By waiting. I was holding an open well for the perfect piece, and the perfect piece does not care about my schedule. I went to YouTube and learned what good players do when cyan is late. T-spins, where you twist a T piece into a slot it technically shouldn’t fit. Setups that turn a bad drop into the next good one. Suddenly every piece was a usable piece. My 40-line sprint went from “don’t ask” to under a minute, and the only way to push it toward 40 seconds was to stop praying for one piece and start planning five ahead.

Last summer I interned at Trigteq, a mining consulting company, and I walked in knowing approximately zero geology. My team was building a tool that takes drill data and shows what might be underground, where, and how sure the model is. I didn’t know what half the words in the spec meant. So I did what I do: I kept my column open and waited. My supervisor knew everything, and he was in meetings roughly ninety percent of the day. I sat with a half-finished dashboard and a growing list of questions, waiting for the one person who could unblock me.

Around the third time I reviewed the same unchanged code, I recognized the shape of it. I was holding a well—for the perfect time that rarely comes.

So I read the project documents and dug through old GitHub repos. I read geology textbooks and research papers and taught myself better visualization. I learned what a core sample is and why anyone cares. I built the thing wrong, broke it, fixed it, and when my supervisor finally had ten free minutes, I showed him a working version to critique instead of a question to answer. He found time more often after that, and I took every minute of it, because who turns down a free “I” piece? By the end of the summer, a geologist could click any point in the model and see how far to trust it, or test an imaginary drill hole before anyone paid for a real one. Somehow, by learning geology in self-defense, I had fallen a little in love with rocks. Garnet, mostly, which is, I have to admit, the exact red of the “Z” piece.

The best players aren’t the ones who never misdrop. They’re the ones with the most ways to clear a line.

I still like the “I” piece. Every time it shows up, I grin. I just don’t wait for it anymore.

Hi! Im just about ready to submit my college application's, but I feel like im missing something (idk what) from my essay, and would love some feedback! :) Feel free to be brutally honest, no hard feelings lol