So, this happened last Saturday, and I’m still processing everything, but I need to get this out because what comes next is going to be absolutely nuclear. And I want people to understand why I’m about to do what I’m about to do. I quote, “I’m 29 years old, and I’ve spent the last three years building something my family knows absolutely nothing about.
They still think I’m the loser who takes the bus everywhere and can barely function as an adult.”
And honestly, I’ve let them think that because I knew eventually they’d give me the perfect opportunity to use everything I’ve been working toward. Let me back up. My sister, Emma, is five years older than me and has always been the golden child.
She got into a good college, married Chester—who works in finance—bought a house in the suburbs, the whole package. Meanwhile, I struggled through community college, failed my driver’s test multiple times because I have genuinely terrible spatial awareness, and worked a bunch of random jobs that never seemed to stick. For years, my family treated me like I was this embarrassing burden they had to deal with at family gatherings.
What they don’t know is that four years ago I started working remotely for a tech company doing data analysis. It pays well—really well. And three years ago, after a particularly brutal Thanksgiving dinner where my dad, Lawrence, spent 30 minutes telling everyone about how I got fired from yet another retail job, I made a decision.
I was done trying to prove myself to them through normal means. They’d already decided who I was in their minds, and nothing I said would change that. So I just stopped talking about my life entirely.
I kept taking the bus even though I could afford a car because honestly the bus works fine for me and I don’t care about driving. I kept living in my small apartment even though I could afford better because it’s close to everything I need. I stopped mentioning work at all.
When they asked what I was doing, I’d just say I was freelancing and change the subject. They interpreted my silence as confirmation that I was still failing at life. And I let them think that.
The wedding invitation arrived two months ago. Emma and Chester were getting married at this nice venue outside the city. The invitation had my name on it.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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