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At my own graduation, my father sla:pped me so hard my cap hit the floor, then hurled my diploma into the campus fountain. “You’re having a psychological episode!” he spat, while my mother screamed, “She’s off her medication!” Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. But I didn’t cry. I looked up at the 40-foot LED screen behind the stage, smiled at the cameras, and said, “Good. Now you’ll all see the truth.” What I projected next destroyed them.

The morning of my college graduation did not begin with flowers, celebratory breakfasts, or proud parents straightening the collar of

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