Once upon time, there was me. Me, knowing exactly who I was, comfortable in my own skin. Perfectly fine with who I was and who I had become. 

Now? 

I don't who I am anymore. Now, I don't think I've ever been that person. That good girl. The girl who loved herself, and loved other people. Now, I don't think I ever wanted to be that person, but I never did anything to challenge it. 

Always being obedient, following the rules, even when they go against what I believe. The poster child for a good girl. Pretty. Smart. Stayed out of trouble. 

It gets old after a while. Exhausting. All the pressure to be someone you never were to begin with. 

Maybe, just maybe, I don't want to be perfect. Maybe, I want to make my own decisions, not have everyone telling me what choices I should make. 

Of course, I didn't tell my mother any of that. I couldn't. She would flip if she knew what I'd gotten myself into. She still saw who I was. Now, I'm the girl who sleeps around, who parties on weekends, who destroyed our teacher's classroom because he gave us extra work. I hurt people on purpose because it makes me feel better about myself. 

What my mother saw, was not me. So I lied. I told her what she expected of me. 

"I was studying with some friends." 

She smiled at me, kissed my forehead. I have never felt so guilty yet so relieved when she spoke. "You're such a good girl, Andrea.” My stomach turned. "I never have to worry about you like other parents do with their kids."

I breathed a bit easier, but the thought still remained. My mother trusted me, and I was lying to her about everything.