The quiet of my room felt heavier than usual. I sat on the edge of my bed, the scholarship letter clenched in my trembling hands. The paper felt thinner than my courage, like it might tear apart if I looked at it too long. Outside, the late afternoon sun spilled golden light through the window, but inside, shadows stretched across the walls—mirroring the storm swirling inside me.
Why was this so hard?
This scholarship was supposed to be the answer. A way out of endless shifts and scrimping for every dollar. A chance to chase something bigger. But instead of feeling relief, I felt… trapped. Caught between what I wanted and what I was afraid to lose.
My mind raced back to Dad's face — tight, impatient whenever money came up. His voice echoing in my head, "Money doesn't grow on trees, Ermelinda." I could still feel the weight of his disappointment, like a chain around my shoulders.
What if I wasn't ready? What if I failed and everything came crashing down? What if this scholarship was just another dream — glittering and bright from afar, but impossible to reach?
I ran my fingers over the crumpled paper, tears stinging my eyes. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to prove that hard work was enough, that I could rise above every struggle and make a life for myself.
But deep down, doubt gnawed at me like a shadow that wouldn't leave.
Was I chasing a future I didn't deserve? Or was I afraid to let go of the past?
The clock ticked loudly in the silence, each second a reminder that time was moving — whether I was ready or not.
I swallowed hard, breathing in and out, trying to push the fear away.
Somewhere inside, a small spark whispered, You can do this.
But for now, all I could do was sit in the quiet, caught between hope and fear.