"Dear Gretchen (ctrl c, ctrl v)

Thank you for applying to [college]. 

After careful review of your application (after skimming your test scores and seeing none), we are unable to offer you admission for Fall 2026 at this time, however, we invite you to opt into our waitlist (your application wasn't good enough, but it wasn't the worst, so you're thrown into the middle category). 

[College] receives more applications from highly qualified applicants than we can accommodate, but your application demonstrated great promise (you didn't provide numbers for us to crunch, so we don't actually know what was in your application) and, if space becomes available, we may be able to offer you admission from the waitlist (we don't want you to attend, but to soften the blow, we'll glance at your application again and let you know much too late and after you've committed to another school). 

Please be aware that opting in to the waitlist does not guarantee you will receive an offer of admission (this is your rejection letter).

For those who opt in, we will release our final decision through your Applicant Portal by the end of summer (if you're really desperate, we'll throw you a bone right when you're settled on another decision. Have fun panicking). Visit the Frequently Asked Questions page on the Applicant Portal for more information (please don't ask questions, as you are not an admitted student).

Thank you again for your application and interest in [college] (we have already forgotten who you are. Good day)."

On the first warm night of spring

I lie on my bed with my window open

The cool breeze skates over my skin

Leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake

They are quickly aided by the warm air

The moonlight splashes over my room

As the last of the color is squeezed from the sky

A false sense of comfort falls over me

As the sounds of the rushing creek

Slowly lull me to sleep

There is nothing wrong with

wearing ribbons in your hair and

twirling in your plaid uniform skirt and

dressing like a tomboy sometimes and

refusing to let anyone tell you not to

wear your heart on your sleeve;

nothing wrong with scars and

sparkly eyeshadow and

throwing a football in the backyard;

nothing wrong with changing your mind and

changing styles and

who you think you are, acting

slightly different when you wear khakis 

instead of a skirt to school;

you're

still you, and

you'll always wear it

on your sleeve.