When I was eight and didn’t understand the definition of college, I latched onto Stanford as my ideal school. The thought carried into my teens when I, a newly minted thirteen-year-old, asked for a Stanford sweatshirt and a tour of the campus for my birthday.

My parents bemusedly conceded, and we dragged my younger brothers there for the day to shop and walk around.

At sixteen, I attended Nike tennis camp at Stanford and further cemented my love for the campus and its food. My samples of the dining hall cuisine left me suitably impressed with its spaghetti and perfectly browned blueberry muffins; my dorm room at camp rested under the shade of a friendly oak and was a short walk from Jamba Juice and the Taube Tennis Stadium.

To me, Stanford was a city unto itself, a beautiful place representing a future far away.

But now, as my future grows closer and I whittle my college list down, I find myself hesitant to scrawl Stanford’s name onto my list. Trapped in indecision, I have mailed SAT and ACT scores, requested transcripts to be sent there, and given out recommendation envelopes with Stanford’s address.

But while I love the idea of bikers balancing books on their backs, friendly professors and eternal sunshine, I do not have a strong academic reason for attending. Strangely, whenever I gather the nerve to scratch Stanford off my list for good, I find myself getting jittery.

My conscience starts yelling at me.

Why not just try? I fear that I don’t want to apply because I’m scared of being rejected from a school I once idolized. I have submitted other applications with considerably less trepidation. In early November, I sent off Georgetown’s application early action. As I count down the days until Georgetown Decision Day, also known as December 15th, I continually open up Stanford’s supplement, wondering whether to apply. The decision terrifies me.

I can’t seem to ditch my childhood Stanford whims, but I can’t justify wasting any more time on essays and worrying if I do not think I am going to attend.

I sit here, four days before Georgetown delivers its verdict, and I am scared. I have documented my accomplishments and my dreams, and poured myself into fill-in-the blanks and neat square boxes.

But what if I’m not good enough? What if what I hoped to be when I was a child is simply not who I have become? My future is not just a sun-kissed fantasy anymore. I need to stand up and make decisions. I need to stop worrying about whether to apply and start realizing that rejection is OK. So am I applying to Stanford? I would have to say yes. Childhood dream or not, some things just need to be tried.