I don't know if this counts as a confession, but I'm a grad student now and I just… avoid going home. My parents keep asking me to visit, but I can't bring myself to do it. It's my brother’s room, I think—it’s still exactly how he left it when he went to college, like a time capsule of old trophies and probably still some dirty laundry. I just can't face it, that museum of a life he never really wanted, and I feel really awful about that.