Everyone Has A Valve

I've slammed out about 8 pages worth of essay for this damned Questbridge application, but nothing seems to stick. I'm beginning to doubt whether it's worth all this shit.

Anyways, I got frustrated and wrote the first part of this abortive essay, mostly to blow off some steam. I think it's pretty entertaining in a sad kind of way. Notice the thesis statement to start and the start of my next paragraph below. Also, present tense. Two thumbs up!

My greatest moments of self-doubt come during the revision process of an academic essay.
No crushing loss of confidence is possible without an initial overload of self-assurance. When I write the first draft of a paper, I am utterly certain of its brilliance. Words flow from my mind through my fingers, spilling out onto the page. A strong, clear introduction leads to my profound thesis statement. Daring and audacious, this thesis demands a masterwork of support to allow the ignorant masses to embrace its startling, uncomfortable truth. I alone posses the skill to defend so bold a statement. Whatever style the subject matter dictates, I supply it with ease. Some sentences are long and languid, overrun with alliteration, comma after comma guiding the reader through the passage with steady, flowing rhythm, pulled out to 50, 60, 70 words, as long as is needed to express the vital power and beauty of my thought. I do not write run-on sentences; my phrasing simply demands encores. Clearly, I am above punctuation, and brevity for that matter. Which is not to say that I cannot be succinct. Indeed, I am renowned for my tough, terse, athletic prose. I don’t have to bother with flashy figurative language. My words cut to the heart of the matter. Commas are taboo. I demand respect, an artist with none of the usual pretense of sophistication. The only real hint of my blistering intelligence is my expansive vocabulary. Scholars and laymen alike are compelled to reach for their dictionaries whenever they read my work. Pages and pages of notes must be made to plumb the true depths of my meaning. Just as the reader reaches a climax of literary enthrallment, my thrilling conclusion begins. A crescendo of reinforcing statements culminates in the thunderous chord of my thesis statement, restated in the grandest manner possible, with the complimentary tones of my arguments ringing beneath it.
I present my paper to my sister or mother, my reliable proofreaders. I include a red pen, mostly as a formality.