I used to think my family was just a little weird, maybe a bit old‑fashioned. The kind of American family that still believed boys didn’t need as much praise as girls because we were supposed to be tough, independent, self‑motivated. For a while, that excuse worked on me.
I told myself they weren’t cold; they were just traditional. But over time, that story started to wear thin, especially when it became obvious that no matter how much I achieved, my sister Mia could blink twice and get a parade. My name is Derek.
I was eighteen when all of this began, a high school senior in a regular U.S. suburb. This story starts on the day I graduated from an American public high school—what should have been one of the proudest days of my life.
Instead, it became the moment everything finally snapped. Growing up, I wasn’t the kind of kid who caused trouble. I wasn’t loud or attention‑seeking.
I did my homework, kept my room clean, stayed out of fights, and helped Mom around the house without being asked. But there was one thing I could never quite do: outshine Mia. She’s two years younger than me, but you wouldn’t know it by the way everyone treated her like the crown jewel of the family.
Straight A’s? Sure. So did I.
But when Mia brought home hers, Dad would go on Facebook and post a picture with a caption like:
When I brought home straight A’s, he just nodded and said:
It wasn’t just grades either. Every birthday, every holiday, every family event—she was the star. I’d get a quick handshake and a gift card.
She’d get a themed party, coordinated outfits, and a slideshow Dad made himself, complete with music and old photos. I learned early on not to expect much. And to be honest, for a while, I was okay with that.
I told myself it wasn’t a competition. I didn’t need all the extra attention. I was building my future quietly.
But when the moment finally came to be recognized for something I had worked so hard for—my graduation—it all came crashing down. The ceremony itself was fine, nothing special. It was your typical American high school graduation: folding chairs on the football field, a principal who talked too long, kids throwing their caps in the air for photos they’d see later on Instagram.
I walked the stage, got my diploma, shook hands, smiled for the picture. Standard. What hurt wasn’t the ceremony.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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