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

Kaylee was only finishing high school, yet the familiar sting of blatant unfairness began to burn deep within my chest just as it had for many years. If you are currently following my story, please let me know which city you are from in the comments while hitting that like button and subscribing to follow my journey from a bus rider to a woman who made her parents drop their programs in utter shock.

Growing up in our massive estate in the suburbs of Maryland, I always felt as though I was living in the perpetual shadow of my younger sister. My father, Franklin Casey, served as the chief financial officer for a massive global corporation and was a man who was stern, methodical, and possessed impossibly high standards for everyone around him.

My mother, Victoria, was a highly celebrated neurosurgeon at a prominent hospital in Baltimore who was equally demanding in her own subtle and quiet way.