文书只不过是学生描述自我的一篇作文，终究还是一篇作文。给你看几段“普林斯顿”成功申请的学生写的，需要全文的话要找我了。
Singing quietly, I drove up my street. As I pulled into the driveway, I curiously noted that my mom’s Volvo was already home. But I dismissed my observation and gathered my belongings and checked the mailbox and took my sweet time getting into the house.
My parents work until around seven o’clock, so I was accustomed to the silence of the house. But for some unknown instinct, I opened my parents’ bedroom door a crack and peered inside. I saw a body lying on the ground. I freaked. My heart stopped. A scream rose up in my throat.
Quickly, I switched on the light to identify the figure on the ground as my mom. Frantically, I tried tofind out what was wrong. But it soon became clear that she was not sick or injured or even sleeping. She was upset, lying on top of a bathroom towel that was soaking up her tears. She refused to lie on the bed instead. She refused a pillow or cushion. She refused to accept a cup of water. She refused to speak
other than to snap at me to leave her alone.
