Peter and I did still talk though… secretly, at least.   

I did my best. I worked so hard so that no one could say a bad thing about me. My parents would often boast about how great I was and how good they were at raising their child.  

They died when I was only months away from graduation. I felt a sense of relief but I was also frustrated because they wouldn’t be able to see me graduate after all that.  

I called Peter after graduation and told him that I was going to move. He helped me pack up and wished me luck. That was the last time I personally saw him before I fell into working my ass off again to try and impress my dead parents haunting me in my head.  

Whenever I look in the mirror, I could hear them being disappointed in me. Something did bring me comfort. It was a photograph Peter took of us.   

Before seeing that headline, we haven’t talked for months. I wanted to talk but I was busy and kept forgetting. I was the worst.