It can rightly be inferred that I, Rachelle Dotson, am different from every other BYU hopeful, except for one. Without shame I admit that I am a twin, a natural clone. With joy I can relate of a friend, a sister, who has gone through almost every trial at my side. Conversations are unformed, their contents known before expressed. Our only conclusion is that we loved each other so much God could not separate us. To us, the world is full of half-people, incomplete and lonely.

Yet, while we are in similitude of the other, it would be a misconception to assume that we are of one purpose and of one mind. My passions vary, yes they are termed passions for such is the fervor of my feelings, but I find that I have a literary bent: a written clubfoot, an inscribed hunch-no, not the right words- I find that I like to write my own wings, with a word pronounce my own destination.

Junior year, creative writing with Mr. Merritt, that is where my fleshy manuscript began its first dialogue. Till then my desire was buried in ash, not being able to grow to a tree of good fruit or a consuming fire. It was a semester that many, mostly the rambling elderly, tend to call a defining moment. For the first time I surrendered to my longing, and I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. Fear of rejection and of inadequacy was surmounted when I entered the a high school writing contest and was able to get third place, but those fears still linger.

Soon those fears will be replaced, not with hope, but with the success of reality. College offers the knowledge and experience to do that. College can strengthen. BYU can conquer.