Ermelinda's POV
The hum of the city outside my window was a constant reminder that life wasn't waiting for me to catch up. Cars blared, people shouted, the world spun on—whether I was ready or not.
I sat at my cluttered desk, the scholarship application staring at me like a mountain I had to climb—except this mountain was made of fear, doubt, and everything I wasn't sure I could handle. The paper was crinkled from my nervous fingers twisting it over and over, the words swimming in and out of focus.
I wanted to scream. To tell the world to stop. To pause so I could breathe. But the world didn't care. The world didn't pause.
That's when the fire ignited inside me.
I slammed my fist on the desk—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shake myself awake.
No more hiding. No more backing down.
This was my life. My shot. My moment.
I thought about every long shift that left me aching from head to toe, every whispered "you can't" that stung like a slap. Every time I had to swallow the lump in my throat and keep working because giving up was not an option.
No one handed me anything. I fought tooth and nail for every inch.
I grabbed a pen and started writing — not a neat, perfect list — but a battle plan scrawled in bursts of energy and frustration.
Wake up early. No excuses.Study until my eyes burn.Ask for help. Be brave.Don't just dream — do.
Each word was a promise to myself. A rebellion against every limit I'd ever been told I had.
I thought about Mom, who juggled three jobs just to keep a roof over our heads, and my little sister who looked up to me like I was some kind of hero. I wasn't a hero. Not yet. But I could be.
I closed my eyes and let the tension pour out of me like steam from a kettle. I pictured the day I'd get that letter — the one that said yes, that said my hard work was worth it.
But it wasn't just about the letter. It was about proving to myself that no matter how many times life knocked me down, I'd get up — every single time.
I pushed back from the desk and stood tall, feeling a storm raging inside me, fierce and unstoppable.
I am more than my mistakes. More than my fears. More than this small town that tries to keep me chained.
My heart pounded like a drumbeat — loud, relentless.
I picked up my phone and played a song that always fired me up, the lyrics pounding into my soul like a battle cry. The room vibrated with energy.
And then I whispered to myself:
This is my fight. And I'm not losing.
Because determination isn't about being perfect. It's about showing up. It's about grinding when every part of you wants to quit. It's about screaming at the world that you belong here.
I took a deep breath and sat back down, the pen flying over the pages of my notebook.
I didn't just want to survive—I wanted to conquer.
I was tired. I was scared. I was human.
But I was also unbreakable.
And no one—not even me—was going to forget that.