{"id":61170,"date":"2026-05-13T17:15:30","date_gmt":"2026-05-13T17:15:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170"},"modified":"2026-05-13T17:15:30","modified_gmt":"2026-05-13T17:15:30","slug":"your-sister-is-the-future-of-this-family-youre-just-extra-baggage-my-father-tossed-my-college-application-into-the-trash-while-proudly-wiring-80000-to-my-twins-ivy-leagu","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170","title":{"rendered":"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Part 1<\/b><\/h3>\n

“I’ll write the check for Victoria’s sixty-five thousand tomorrow,” my father announced smoothly, slicing his steak. “But Francis, you are entirely on your own.”<\/p>\n

I froze. I am Francis Townsend. I’m eighteen years old, staring across the dining table at my twin sister, Victoria, and my parents. Two college acceptance letters were resting on the table. Victoria had been accepted to Whitmore, a hyper-elite private college. I had been accepted to Eastbrook, a respected state university that cost a fraction of the price\u2014twenty-five thousand a year.<\/p>\n

“On my own?” I choked out, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Dad, it’s a state school. It’s so much cheaper. Why wouldn’t you help me?”<\/p>\n

He didn’t even look up from his plate. “Because you are not a profitable investment, Francis. Victoria has the charisma and the pedigree to guarantee a high return. You are… average. I don’t finance mediocrity.”<\/p>\n

The absolute cruelty of his words sucked the oxygen right out of the room. I looked at my mother, desperately waiting for her to intervene. She just took a sip of her Chardonnay and looked away. Victoria stared at her plate, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.<\/p>\n

In that horrifying moment, I realized the terrifying truth. I wasn’t part of this family. I was a defective product they were officially discarding.<\/p>\n

“You think I’m a bad investment?” I whispered, my vision blurring with angry tears. I grabbed my acceptance letter, the paper crumpling in my shaking fist.<\/p>\n

“I think you’re wasting my time,” my father replied coldly.<\/p>\n

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I turned around, marched up to my room, and grabbed my heavy winter coat and a backpack. I had absolutely zero financial support, no credit history, and a tuition deadline rapidly approaching. If I stayed in this toxic house, I would suffocate.<\/p>\n

I slammed the front door behind me, stepping out into the freezing Chicago wind. Just as I hit the sidewalk, my phone lit up with an urgent alert from Eastbrook University. Warning: Financial aid application denied. Immediate deposit required within 48 hours to secure enrollment.<\/i><\/p>\n

I had three hundred dollars to my name. I was completely abandoned, staring down an impossible deadline, and I had no idea how to survive the night, let alone the next four years.<\/p>\n

My own father looked me in the eye and called me a “bad investment,” refusing to pay a dime for my college while fully funding my twin sister. He thought he broke me, but he only lit the match. The rest of the story is below \ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n

\n

Part 2<\/b><\/h3>\n

Survival became my only religion.<\/p>\n

For the next three years, my life was an agonizing blur of sheer exhaustion. While Victoria was posting pictures from Whitmore\u2019s luxury dorms and sorority galas, funded entirely by my father\u2019s bottomless bank account, I was fighting a brutal, bloody war just to keep the lights on.<\/p>\n

I rented a windowless, converted closet in a crumbling apartment building off-campus. To pay my Eastbrook tuition and rent, I worked three grueling jobs. I was a barista, opening a coffee shop at 4:30 AM every morning. After my classes, I scrubbed toilets and mopped floors as part of the university\u2019s overnight janitorial cleaning crew. On weekends, I worked as a teaching assistant. I survived on four hours of sleep a night and an endless diet of cheap ramen and the stale bagels the coffee shop threw out.<\/p>\n

The physical toll was devastating, but the psychological warfare was much worse. My family completely ghosted me. When Thanksgiving came, my mother didn’t even text. I spent Christmas Eve scrubbing the campus library floors, scrolling through social media during a ten-minute break. There it was: a beautiful, professionally taken holiday card. My father, my mother, and Victoria, smiling by a massive fireplace. I had been completely cropped out of my own family’s existence. I cried until my lungs burned, sitting entirely alone in a dark utility closet.<\/p>\n

But I used that agonizing pain as fuel. If I was a “bad investment,” I was going to make sure my father went bankrupt in his own regret.<\/p>\n

By my junior year, my relentless, obsessive drive caught the attention of Dr. Margaret Smith, a tough, brilliant economics professor. One rainy Tuesday, she held me back after an advanced finance seminar.<\/p>\n

“You look like a walking corpse, Francis,” Professor Smith said bluntly, handing me a cup of hot tea. “But your analytical models are the most brilliant I\u2019ve seen in a decade. Why are you killing yourself scrubbing floors when you have a mind like this?”<\/p>\n

I broke down. I told her everything. The cruel rejection, the three jobs, the crippling exhaustion.<\/p>\n

Professor Smith didn’t give me pity; she gave me a weapon. She pulled a thick, embossed folder from her desk. “This is the Whitfield Scholarship,” she said, her eyes intense. “It is the most prestigious academic grant in the country. Only twenty students nationwide get it. It provides a full-ride, a massive living stipend, and the absolute freedom to transfer to any elite university in America for your senior year. We are submitting your application.”<\/p>\n

The next six months were a terrifying gauntlet. I pushed myself to the absolute breaking point, balancing my three jobs, maintaining a flawless GPA, and surviving the grueling rounds of Whitfield interviews. The competition was fierce\u2014Ivy League prodigies with trust funds and private tutors. I was just an exhausted janitor from a state school.<\/p>\n

Then, the email arrived.<\/p>\n

I was sitting on the floor of my tiny room, my hands shaking so violently I could barely click open the message.<\/p>\n

Dear Ms. Townsend, Congratulations. You have been selected as a National Whitfield Scholar.<\/i><\/p>\n

I screamed. I collapsed onto my cheap mattress and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. I had won. The financial chains were completely shattered.<\/p>\n

But the scholarship came with a choice. I could transfer anywhere in the country. I looked at a picture of Victoria on my phone, wearing a Whitmore University sweatshirt, standing next to our smiling father. A dangerous, beautiful twist formed in my mind.<\/p>\n

I didn’t just want to succeed. I wanted to drop a nuclear bomb on their perfect, arrogant lives. I used my Whitfield status to secretly transfer for my senior year. I was moving to Whitmore University\u2014Victoria\u2019s elite, expensive territory.<\/p>\n

For an entire year, I lived like a ghost on the Whitmore campus. I quit my janitorial jobs. I slept eight hours a night. I dominated every single finance class, destroying the grading curve and leaving the arrogant trust-fund kids in my dust. Victoria never saw me. Our paths never crossed. She was busy partying; I was busy preparing for the ultimate execution.<\/p>\n

If you’ve read this far, don’t hesitate to leave a like and comment before reading part 3. It makes us as happy as reading a complete story! Thank you. \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n

\n

Part 3<\/b><\/h3>\n

Graduation day at Whitmore University was a spectacular display of wealth and extreme privilege. The massive college football stadium was packed with proud, elite parents wearing designer suits and expensive jewelry. Somewhere in the VIP section, my father and mother were sitting, waiting to applaud Victoria as she received her wildly expensive, bought-and-paid-for degree. They had absolutely no idea I was even in the same zip code.<\/p>\n

I sat in the front row, hidden beneath my black graduation gown and cap, my heart pounding a steady, victorious rhythm against my ribs.<\/p>\n

The Dean of the Business School stepped up to the podium, tapping the microphone. The stadium fell into a heavy hush.<\/p>\n

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Dean\u2019s voice boomed over the massive speakers. “It is my distinct honor to introduce this year’s University Valedictorian. This extraordinary student transferred to us as a Whitfield Scholar and achieved the highest GPA in the entire history of our finance department. Please welcome to the stage… Francis Townsend.”<\/p>\n

The silence that fell over the VIP section was absolutely deafening.<\/p>\n

I stood up, the bright stadium lights hitting my face, and walked confidently up the stairs to the main stage. I adjusted the microphone and looked out into the massive sea of faces. It took me exactly four seconds to find them.<\/p>\n

My father was standing halfway out of his seat, his face completely drained of color, his jaw practically hitting the floor in pure shock. My mother looked like she had just seen a ghost. Victoria, sitting in the middle rows of the graduating class, was staring at the massive jumbotron displaying my face, looking utterly horrified and incredibly small.<\/p>\n

“Four years ago,” I began, my voice ringing out clear, powerful, and unwavering across the stadium, “I was told I was a bad investment. I was told I wasn’t special enough to succeed. I stood in the freezing rain with three hundred dollars to my name and realized that if I wanted to survive, I had to become my own portfolio.”<\/p>\n

I didn’t break eye contact with my father as I spoke.<\/p>\n

“I worked three jobs. I scrubbed toilets. I slept four hours a night. I learned that your true value is never determined by the people who refuse to see it. Your value is determined by your own relentless grit. To anyone out there who has been discarded, underestimated, or written off by the people who were supposed to protect you: you are enough. You have always been enough. Be your own greatest investment.”<\/p>\n

The stadium erupted. Over ten thousand people leaped to their feet, delivering a deafening, thunderous standing ovation.<\/p>\n

After the ceremony, the confrontation was inevitable. As I walked out of the stadium holding my prestigious diploma, my father, mother, and Victoria rushed toward me through the crowd. My father looked completely shattered, his arrogant, corporate facade entirely destroyed.<\/p>\n

“Francis…” my father choked out, reaching a trembling hand for my arm. “I… I can’t believe it. We are so incredibly sorry. We were wrong. Please, let us take you to dinner. Let’s fix this. Come home.”<\/p>\n

I looked at the hand reaching out to me\u2014the exact same hand that had cruelly refused to write a check, the same hand that had cropped me out of the family photos.<\/p>\n

I stepped back, my posture straight and unbreakable. “I don’t have a home with you,” I said calmly. “You didn’t want the raw material, Dad. You don’t get to claim the finished product.”<\/p>\n

I turned around and walked away, leaving them standing frozen in the sun.<\/p>\n

Three weeks later, I moved to Manhattan. I accepted a highly coveted position at one of the top financial consulting firms on Wall Street, earning a six-figure salary straight out of the gate. I built a beautiful, independent life in the city, surrounded by amazing friends who became my true chosen family.<\/p>\n

It took years, but I eventually established contact with my family again. We have superficial lunches when I visit Chicago. I speak to Victoria, who now works a mid-level corporate job, with absolute politeness. But I dictate the terms. I control the boundaries. They know they can never manipulate me again.<\/p>\n

They thought they were starving me, but they only taught me how to hunt. And I will never go hungry again.<\/p>\n

What do you think of this story? Please leave a like and share your thoughts in the comments. Your support means a lot to us and inspires us to keep writing more meaningful and powerful stories. Thank you! \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 “I’ll write the check for Victoria’s sixty-five thousand tomorrow,” my father announced smoothly, slicing his steak. “But Francis, you are entirely on your own.” I froze. I am Francis Townsend. I’m eighteen years old, staring across the dining table at my twin sister, Victoria, and my parents. Two college acceptance letters were resting […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":61181,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-61170","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\nYour sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming. - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming. - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 “I’ll write the check for Victoria’s sixty-five thousand tomorrow,” my father announced smoothly, slicing his steak. “But Francis, you are entirely on your own.” I froze. I am Francis Townsend. I’m eighteen years old, staring across the dining table at my twin sister, Victoria, and my parents. Two college acceptance letters were resting […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-05-13T17:15:30+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"9 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170\",\"name\":\"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming. - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-05-13T17:15:30+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming.\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\",\"name\":\"Phong Nguyen\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Phong Nguyen\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming. - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming. - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 “I’ll write the check for Victoria’s sixty-five thousand tomorrow,” my father announced smoothly, slicing his steak. “But Francis, you are entirely on your own.” I froze. I am Francis Townsend. I’m eighteen years old, staring across the dining table at my twin sister, Victoria, and my parents. Two college acceptance letters were resting […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-05-13T17:15:30+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Phong Nguyen","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Phong Nguyen","Est. reading time":"9 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170","name":"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming. - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg","datePublished":"2026-05-13T17:15:30+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Photorealistic_cinematic_shot_intense_psychological_202605140014-1.jpeg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=61170#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Your sister is the future of this family. You\u2019re just extra baggage.\u201d My father tossed my college application into the trash while proudly wiring $80,000 to my twin\u2019s Ivy League account. Homeless and humiliated, I worked brutal overnight janitor shifts, secretly earned a national scholarship, and returned to her campus with a revenge plan nobody saw coming."}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/61170","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=61170"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/61170\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":61184,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/61170\/revisions\/61184"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/61181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=61170"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=61170"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=61170"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}