Categories > Original > Drama
I was always perfect. The second I arrived in this world, everything about me was perfection. Relatives and friends would crowd around my crib and shower me with baby gifts that were more than enough for the billion babies of the world. Parents of my kinder garden classmates would always ask their kids why they cannot be more like me, and would always give me a thousand compliments. The truth is, they loved me more than their own flesh and blood, and would always wish I was theirs. Well, who would not? I had perfect manners, I had an adorable smile and I am the smartest girl in school. I was every parent’s dream. My big blue eyes do not hurt either; I could get anyone to do what I asked of them. My shiny blond hair and pretty little dresses also never failed to make adults buy the toys I wanted. My charming ways, angelic face and endearing smile would leave them with stars in their eyes. I was that amazing. Everything about me screamed perfection. I was the perfect daughter.
Puberty came and everyone loved me more than they did before. I did not think that was even possible, but I was wrong. I got another kind of attention, a different kind of audience--boys. They walked me everywhere, lined up at my door just to say hi after school, and would even fight over who gets to say it first. It is quite amusing, actually. Of course, I was expected to treat them well. I was expected to look good for them, too. It was expected of me to draw them to me just like how I did with the rest of the world, and make them love me just like everyone else does. It was not hard at all. They loved me at first glance and for them, I was the perfect girl.
In high school, my teachers would always try not to play favorites, but everyone knew that I was their favorite student. No one even disliked me for that. Students and teachers all looked up to me, amazed by my brains and beauty. They give me all their attention, and I would always gladly take the spotlight. I would recite and give the correct answers, and I would ace all the tests. I was the perfect student.
In their eyes I am the perfect everything. Well, they do not know a thing. They say they love me, but I know that if they knew how much lies I have told them all, they would love me no more. They do not know that I go crazy, that I get high. They don’t know I get sad, that I don’t have this smile on my face all day. They do not know that I hate myself sometimes, and that I absolutely hate pretending. But they love me when I do, and I’m scared to stop, for fear they would hate me instead. The perfect little girl they all thought they knew is actually an entirely different person when locked in her room. My jaw would always hurt from smiling my perfect smile, and my heart would break over and over from deceiving them all. In my room I find solitude. In the darkness, I can be the imperfect little girl who cannot stop crying. At night, I can be who I am. In my room, I can lose myself and hide from the people around me. In isolation, I can stop being perfect. I can quit performing for the entire world, and I can close my eyes from the stares that follow me everywhere I go. I can go down from my stage, and sit in the audience for once. I can be myself, an imperfect little girl who seems so perfect just because she can act well. People think I am the perfect everything, but in truth, I am far from it. I am just a perfect actress, a perfect star. I was just doing what they expect of me, pretending to be perfect, and I am doing it quite perfectly, if I do say so myself.
Puberty came and everyone loved me more than they did before. I did not think that was even possible, but I was wrong. I got another kind of attention, a different kind of audience--boys. They walked me everywhere, lined up at my door just to say hi after school, and would even fight over who gets to say it first. It is quite amusing, actually. Of course, I was expected to treat them well. I was expected to look good for them, too. It was expected of me to draw them to me just like how I did with the rest of the world, and make them love me just like everyone else does. It was not hard at all. They loved me at first glance and for them, I was the perfect girl.
In high school, my teachers would always try not to play favorites, but everyone knew that I was their favorite student. No one even disliked me for that. Students and teachers all looked up to me, amazed by my brains and beauty. They give me all their attention, and I would always gladly take the spotlight. I would recite and give the correct answers, and I would ace all the tests. I was the perfect student.
In their eyes I am the perfect everything. Well, they do not know a thing. They say they love me, but I know that if they knew how much lies I have told them all, they would love me no more. They do not know that I go crazy, that I get high. They don’t know I get sad, that I don’t have this smile on my face all day. They do not know that I hate myself sometimes, and that I absolutely hate pretending. But they love me when I do, and I’m scared to stop, for fear they would hate me instead. The perfect little girl they all thought they knew is actually an entirely different person when locked in her room. My jaw would always hurt from smiling my perfect smile, and my heart would break over and over from deceiving them all. In my room I find solitude. In the darkness, I can be the imperfect little girl who cannot stop crying. At night, I can be who I am. In my room, I can lose myself and hide from the people around me. In isolation, I can stop being perfect. I can quit performing for the entire world, and I can close my eyes from the stares that follow me everywhere I go. I can go down from my stage, and sit in the audience for once. I can be myself, an imperfect little girl who seems so perfect just because she can act well. People think I am the perfect everything, but in truth, I am far from it. I am just a perfect actress, a perfect star. I was just doing what they expect of me, pretending to be perfect, and I am doing it quite perfectly, if I do say so myself.
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