Affiliate Marketing Secrets

This is for a college essay, and I’m looking for fluency, mechanics, grammatical errors, etc. I can’t print it and I know I tend to slack in proofreading when I’ve written and fully understand what I’m trying to talk about. Anyhow,
A pair of white lights, blinding, fixed on me. Sniffling, I made the decision, the curious decision not to wipe my eyes. Watery, my lips pulled into a pathetic quiver I brought my head up to look at the vehicle. It was also white, grayed by the darkness of the night for the place I’d chosen to stroll was oddly devoid of streetlamps. Without their comforting glow my heart raced as I focused on the white, only to turn my head and watch as they became red, my wordless plea ignored for the fourth or fifth time.
Today, I had decided somewhere along the line was my boiling point. The rising action in the least linear story (a Kurt Vonnegut-esque tale of dramatics and my being led by a surprising lack of personal knowledge) was fixed on this being the day where I would finally tell everyone about the building pressure within me. I’d say, confidently and eloquently with hand gestures that my former speech and debate team would be proud of, “My life is at a rough spot. I need help, and I don’t need you to understand but I need you to respect me and to listen.” It was true. I was having all the success of someone attempting to push a heavy object past a carpet and my stamina was exhausted. I was exhausted.
The life I’d lived was by no means simple. One usually gathered that when they asked where my mother was and I told them cheerfully that I didn’t know. My grandmother was her quasi replacement, though I saw her as a grandmother rather than any sort of mother figure. Ironically, I’d been more of a mother than she was, raising three siblings much younger than me for several years. Her sharp reprimanding hand and personal troubles ensured that things weren’t easy, but in retrospect it served as a huge distraction. It was like someone pinching you to distract from a mild and constant headache, cauliflower bruised skin a weathered reminder of its convenience. However, her constant presence and penchant for causing trouble inadvertently affected me that night, though I’d been living away from her for roughly seven years.
My father did not understand. I had not expected him to as I poured out my heart. I spoke of a non-congruency within my mind, of social isolation and awkwardness and physical confusion. My interest in medicine, two or three years running had led me to a surprising dead end, though I did find the terms a few times on the internet and in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (IV) but the conclusion was painful and I merely scoffed at the time.
I was not smiling, or doing anything that resembled it. Almost as I began my voice wavered dangerously, my eyes locked on his due to my training in speaking but constantly interrupted by blinking. I told him in a rushed way about the hours I spent alone at night thinking about life. Speaking slowly, I told him that I had personal image issues. They reflected in my faux nonchalant attitude about grades and in my interactions with others. I grinned a lot even though my teeth were never immaculate, so people had the general assumption that I’d achieved the average level of teenage happiness that comes with constant company, risqué choices, and the leeching lifestyle that many would dream of. I had company of a few constant friends, but hardly during the daytime outside of school. My niche was shrinking—my friends finding new friends in ways I was slightly numb to. I missed them actively, but was inactive, lethargic. I wanted so many things, but mostly happiness.