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Golden by Jessi Kirby7/8/2023 It means Stanford pre-med and everything else I’ve worked for. Being chosen as a finalist for the Cruz-Farnetti Scholarship is my version of winning the lottery. I fold the letter once, twice, three times and slide it into my back pocket like a golden ticket, because that’s what it is. But I’m keeping this one, just for today. There’s no such thing as a secret in this town. But as much as we wish it were different, the truth is, our worlds are sometimes balanced on choices we make and the secrets we keep. And then we bury it deep, so deep we can almost pretend it never happened. So we explain it to ourselves, justify it enough to sleep. Or as awful as anyone would think if they knew. One we’ll search repeatedly for some indication that what we chose was right, some small sign that tells us the truth isn’t nearly as awful as it feels. A moment we will play endlessly in our minds on lonely nights and empty days. One when things are irrevocably changed by a choice we make. Even the nights you steal away from an open window, tiptoe silent to the end of the driveway, where darkened headlights and the pull of something unknown beckon. Skipping class in favor of a taste of freedom, picking a prom dress because of the way it transforms you into a princess in the mirror. Not all of them matter, or have any lasting impact. For my grandma, MARIETTA, who introduced me to the simple beauty of Frost’s words, and my grandpa, GERARD, who always believed in mine
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