Confessions of an alleged good girl.

Murderous thoughts and pink pouches.

Good girls like me often dream of going rogue, but being a rebel just for the heck of it is not how we roll.  

Good girls like me often think so deeply about everything that we drown inside our own thoughts.

Good girls like me shrink and shudder at the thought of upsetting anyone in the slightest, we’d rather stitch our mouths shut. 

Good girls like me dream of beheading our oppressors and drinking their blood while carrying around pink pouches with rainbow stickers on them, our pens, pencils and erasers arranged neatly inside. 

Good girls like me don’t really want to break bad, we want to break free. 

The reason behind is not that deep, it’s actually quite simple, we just want to be able to do things that we’ve been stopped (by ourselves) from doing before. 

But we’re far from it.

Good girls like me look calm and quiet from the outside. But inside, there are storms. Storms of shit. 

Good girls like me don’t consider ourselves to be grown-ups. 

Can I have adult conversations like a grown-up? Can I control my emotions and not let them go all crazy on me? Can I stand-up for myself like a grown-up would? Have I really done anything at all that can be called a “grown-up” thing? Do I even understand grown-up stuff? Do I deal with my problems in a healthy, mature way?

Good girls like me get left behind on the stage all alone once the show is over.  

We feel like everyone else is putting up a show for us, playing their respective roles, because this good girl still hasn’t left that long-forgotten stage and changed her costume; so they play along with her, to make her feel good, they play along till they get tired of it and move on to the real world.  

Good girls like me are trapped in that “innocent, rule-following, sincere schoolgirl” phase. 

Deep inside, we’re still that scared, confused, pigtailed little girl. There’s no growth whatsoever. That timid girl… she never leaves us. We may have thought we left her, back there in the walls of the school, but no, she hasn’t gone, she’s still here… she has overstayed her time; she has encroached on the time of our teenage selves, and now she’s doing the same with our adult selves. We haven’t been able to let go of her. We’re scared. And so we’re clinging on to her, and her to us, like parasites. 

Good girls like me often think: 

Why just me though? Why did I get left behind? Am I just stupid…?

Something went horribly wrong, that much we know… but then, we also think: 

What’s the point of living in the past and trying to solve its mysteries? What’s the point of thinking about what went wrong instead of correcting and fixing all the crap that I’m going through because of it right now? Would either of this even help?

Sometimes we think it would be easier to solve a problem that we know, and sometimes we think… it’s not a single problem that we’re solving here, 

it’s a whole fucking pile of stinking dogshit that we’re trying to clean; shit like this is not laid in one trip to the toilet, it piles up over the years, you forget to flush once, it piles up even more, it gets so big that your flush gets broken while trying to drain it out of the system, but you can’t live with a toilet full of shit forever, it can’t be contained, it’ll fucking burst out one day, which it does, so now the only option is that you gotta mend your flush and do the cleaning all over again, step-by-step, till it’s nice and shit-free, instead of thinking about why you took so many shits and didn’t bother to flush them down then and there. 

What the fuck kinda metaphor was that lol? It works so well though. 

Good girls like me have realised… 

That we’re lying to ourself when we say we like being broken under the charade of being different. We don’t. It hurts so bad. It hurts so much. It feels so pathetic, so helpless, so weak, so petty, so childish, so immature, so shitty. We feel like we’re constantly losing out, we feel like we’re constantly getting left behind, we feel like we don’t understand anything like other grown-ups do, we constantly feel incompetent and incapable, we feel easily intimidated, we always feel condescended and demeaned. 

Everyone else is so far ahead. Doing so many things. Making money, working on cool stuff, going on dates, falling in love, breaking up, going on trips, making friends, bonding… just living their life like they should.

And then there’s the good girls, the good girls like me.

Our self-esteem, our self-worth, our self-confidence, our self-respect, our self-love — they’re all lying somewhere, in a deep, dirty pit, all bruised and shattered due to being thrown down again-and-again… they’re waiting for us, they’re waiting for us to pull them up, not bury them deeper down there. 

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P.S. Like what you read? 

AND-

P.P.S I have a blog now. And it’s super wacky and kawaii, if I may say so myself. 

Check it out here, and lemme know what you think?