My parents told me to take the bus to my Harvard graduation because they were too busy buying my sister a brand-new Tesla, but when they finally showed up expecting to watch me quietly walk across the stage and go back to celebrating her, the dean took the mic, said my name, and my father dropped his program as the whole crowd learned what I had built while they were busy acting like I was never the child worth showing up for. – Reading Times

It was the first time someone had ever named the disparity so bluntly and honestly in my presence. Hearing those words from another person made the cold reality of my family dynamic hit me harder than it ever had before.

In my sophomore year, I met a young man named Logan in my advanced macroeconomics course. He was incredibly charming and intelligent while coming from a very prominent and wealthy family in Connecticut.

We started dating, and for a short while, it truly felt like I had finally found someone who saw me for who I actually was. Logan was generous and kind, and he was always trying to treat me to expensive dinners or spontaneous weekend getaways to the coast.

However, my stubborn pride made it incredibly difficult for me to accept his financial generosity. I was absolutely determined to pay my own way through life, even when it meant working extra shifts at the store just to afford my half of our dinner dates.