Washington University in St. Louis, often abbreviated WashU or WUSTL, is a top private college in St. Louis, Missouri. WashU has a stellar academic reputation and was ranked #18 in the nation this past year. WashU is known for its academic rigor, selectivity, beautiful campus, and high quality of life for its students.
In 2018, the acceptance rate for the class of 2022 was 15%, and WashU received over 31,000 applications. This makes getting into WashU very difficult. The best way to optimize your chance of acceptance at a top school like WashU is to make sure your essays make you stand out among the thousands of other applicants.
Below are some accepted Common App essays written by real students who got accepted by WashU. Note that WashU does not have any additional supplemental questions as of writing this, which makes your Common App essay even that much more important.
Essays and Supplements
Table of Contents
Please note: all names, cities, and other personal information in essays and supplements are replaced so as to keep the author's privacy.
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WashU Common App Personal Statement #1
Written by Anonymous Student
Verified Real Acceptance
Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others. (250-650 words)
I close my eyes and find myself within a forest of lights.
The diamond leaves of gnarled oak trees throw spectrums of color onto mounds of frosty snow that gleam melancholily under the moonlight. The leaves chime as wind violently rustles them in a haunting melody. I splinter a leaf off its branch and inspect the shard of my illusion, eyes dancing with amusement.
I breathe a cloud into the nipping air and halfconsciously crunch through a path of snow as it languorously carves its way through the forest. I walk to the sound of clinking, broken gems as they scratch my ankles, and wonder what circuitry must be alight in my wits to create this particular fantasy. I stumble along in hope of unravelling this enigma, my mind guiding me on its own inclination.
The path opens up at last, and I approach a cabin shrouded by thick fog. The door opens for me and I wonder at the foreboding as I sit in a cherrywood chair and sip a sparkling chartreuse drink. My feet swing idly as I listen to the forest’s indiscernible whispers, wondering whether my mind would ever allow me to unstitch its knots. As I dwell in my worries, a cold hand reaches from behind me and taps my shoulder.
I jerk away, fear bubbling in my amygdala as I look into the nonexistent eyes of my intruding visitor.
The moon illuminates a blob of pink squish as it draws back slowly, points its spindly hands towards my drink and asks: “Could I have some of that?” I wordlessly offer the eerie thing some Mountain Dew. I watch as it eagerly chugs the drink, and think, Ah. My mind is definitely acting strangely today.
The blob wipes its invisible mouth with its nonexistent sleeve. I ask: “What are you?”
It shakes its head, invigorated with soda. “S’pose it’s natural not to recognize me.” The thing smiles ominously and declares itself as my brain. I stare mutely at the absurd being. I wonder at how I will be able to paint it in my waking state.
The blob tells me to stop looking at it so suspiciously. “I can prove it,” It says. I tell it, please, go ahead.
Suddenly we are back in the glowing forest. “Diamonds? Pah!” The blob dismisses them. Instantly, the leaves turn solid gold, the snow melts, and the wintry world is thrown into a blistering summer.
The blob laughs heartlessly. “Your cortex is under my control,” it says smugly.
I blink under the sudden intensity and acknowledge its greatness, humbled by its supremacy. “I heard you had a question for me?” It taps its invisible ears knowingly. This is perfect, I think. Here I was all this time wandering through my mind, searching for the answer, when now I could ask my brain for it directly. The blob wriggles its invisible brows as it waits.
I open my mouth and ask it my most crucial question.
It smiles that wicked smile. It laughs that sinful laugh. Then that insufferable blob wakes me up.
As I sit up in the dark and rub my bleary eyes, I am vaguely aware of the deepset unfulfillment settling itself inside me. I yawn and plop back into bed, the soft red glow of my alarm clock indicating that it is still before midnight. I cover myself with my blanket, and drift back into sleep to continue my search.