Share an essay on any topic of your choice. It can be one you've already written, one that responds to a different prompt, or one of your own design.

Share an essay on any topic of your choice. It can be one you've already written, one that responds to a different prompt, or one of your own design.

I peered over the board, shaking the dice in my hands and praying for anything but an 11. The dice clattered and came to a stop. 11. My sister leapt up with glee, taunting me as I grudgingly dragged my character from Atlantic Avenue to Park Place, a property practically sagging under the weight of four houses. “$1400!” she exclaimed, laughing at my paltry $370. I bit my tongue instead of hurling back a remark; I couldn't give her the satisfaction. I had St. Charles Place, New York Avenue, and Pennsylvania Avenue, none of which gave me much benefit. Easy mortgages. $700. I sold two newly built houses on Illinois Avenue. $1000. The next decision was going to hurt. No more houses. No more money. Down to my last properties. My years-long Monopoly winning streak was about to end at the hands of a 10-year-old. To me, winning Monopoly represents more than my obligation as an older brother. Among other things, Monopoly assesses my budgeting skills, understanding of microeconomics, and strategic decision-making. It also embraces the intangible (and often shady) aspects of business: risk-taking, making deals, and even going to jail like real Wall Street tycoons. Beyond that however, Monopoly has long been an emotional staple of my life. While other families eat out or watch a movie, my family gathers around the four-sided board. Of course, it's not always fun family bonding — we’re all sore losers and obnoxious winners. My father is the spontaneous reactor, who determines whether or not he wants to continue or restart the game after two turns. My sister is the board-flipper, who always blows the advantage she initially gains through her inexplicable luck. My mom is the backseat driver, who strategizes with us despite pretending she’s above this emotional rollercoaster. And I’m the volcano, who bubbles with internal intensity yet appears dormant on the exterior. We’re all products of an inherent competitiveness — every game is our Super Bowl. I could see my sister’s smile widening as she realized I was backed into a corner. I began running through my options in my head: $*&% I’m short $400 and I have to give something up. Can I get a fair value from my opponents? No, I have neither the properties my dad needs nor the money my sister wants. Play it cool, they can’t know you’re panicking. Maybe I should just quit and go play basketball instead... YOU STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE! My competitive spirit boiled like hot magma as I chastised myself for considering giving up even for a second. Wait a minute....my sister needed money, but had an excess of properties. My dad had money but needed a Monopoly. Bargaining chip acquired. After substantial haggling and a variety of proposals, I was able to avoid bankruptcy by forfeiting a few of my less essential properties in a three-way trade. I had about as much money as a college kid living off ramen noodles, but I was still standing. The competitive nature that fuels me to keep playing Monopoly in the face of improbable odds drives me in all facets of my life. I take risks, plan strategically, and thrive while tip-toeing the tightrope between success and failure. My passion has pushed me to send thousands of outreach emails for my nonprofit after numerous rejections, to put my body on the line for a practice tennis match while down 6 match points, and to fight an uphill battle for student council president. My competitiveness is my strength, my weakness, and the geothermal engine for my impact on the world. I will not quit on any of my goals in life for the same reason I will not quit on a game of Monopoly: for every Park Place I land on, there’s always a chance to pass GO.