When I was younger, I was a good child. In reality, good might be an understatement. I was an adorable, honest, happy, sweet, beautiful girl. My long hair flowed in strands of sand. And my eyes were pools with diamonds at the bottom. My mother dressed me in pink and white checkerboard dresses, pretty skirts that swirled when I spun, and faded blue overalls on days I went adventuring. Either my hair was done up in two dog ears, swaying from each side of my head, or it was left down and flowed down the length of my back. Never did I try to hurt a person nor an animal. Not even the creepy crawlers that lurked under rocks and in the dark corners of my basement warranted any malicious act from me. Instead, they were all investigated and cherished with such childlike wonder and innocence. Teachers adored me because I was inquisitive and incredibly smart for my age. The word 'lie' was not in my vocabulary. Because I was accommodating and gentle, boys and girls flocked to me as their friend. Even older children found themselves playing with me during recess and inviting me to birthday parties with cake decorated in overly intricate frosting. My two bigger brothers would tickle me until tears rolled down my cheeks and hold my hands when they thought the river was too quick for such a little girl to cross alone. At one point, I even begged my mother to have me baptized along with my older brothers and it furthered the idea that I was perfect. I was that twinkle in my mother's eye, Daddy's little princess, the blessing upon my family.
As I got older, my personality, my appearance, my life changed. I do not want to say it was so and so's fault or blame the same people therapists and outside opinions claim is at fault. No, some things happened because I wanted them to happen and others because they would have happened no matter what. That is what happens as time goes on and I'm not ashamed of who I am. Regardless of what people label me as or the vicious words they spew at me, I see no urgent need to change my thoughts and feelings and generally all the little quirks that make me who I am.
My hair has been dyed for nearly six years now and sometimes it's curly, sometime it's straight. When I don't feel my best, I throw it up into a ponytail or anything to keep it out of my face. At one point, I had eight piercings...in each ear. But the top ones made it too difficult to sleep so I let them seal away and only four remain in each. My eyebrow is pierced just like my mom's and I got my first tattoo a few weeks after turning sixteen. I have designs and ideas for at least four more. Maybe I will follow through with them, maybe I won't. That's another change. I cannot keep one idea constant for more than a week. When something new comes along, I will be one of the first to indulge and the first to move on. I've kissed more than my fair share of guys. Honestly, it would be a little tricky to even count them all. And I've kissed a couple of girls. Many people might think that is horrible, sinful and I'm going to hell. But I don't think I can go somewhere if I do not believe it exists. My mother almost disowned me when I told her a few years ago I lost the faith she had raised and nurtured me in. Sometimes she tells me she does not know why she ever wanted a girl, other times that if she had had me before my brothers, I'd have been an only child. Still, we have an amazing relationship and I'm not embarrassed to admit that when it comes down to the facts, my mother is my best friend. I do have other friends. But I think the definition of a friend is really nonexistent. There are people I like to hang out with, there are ones who I run crying to, others still who only hang around because of the dirty little secrets we share. My grades have wish washed throughout the years from straight A honor roll to having six weeks spent in summer school because I just didn't feel like doing my English work as a sophomore. I still can run mental circles around nearly every child, teenager, young adult, and many adults in this small town. And I love to lie. Sometimes I do it just to see if I can get away with it. Very rarely do I lie to dear friends and family about anything important but something inconsequential like saying I went out on a hike or with a friend when I really stayed at home and drifted from the tv to the computer.
That is who I am. That is who I plan on staying. When I go to university in six months, across the state from my family, I won't lie and say I will be a good little girl like I was. That means sometimes my plans will include drinking, illegal activities, sins. I plan on living my life and having fun. There are so many things I want to do and experience before I settle into the mundane life society will eventually force on me. A career, husband, children, while I look forward to them, I also fear them. I do not want to be in a rocking chair and telling my grandchildren about all the things I wish I had done. I want to enthrall them with wild stories and crazy times where I laughed and I cried and I loved and I lost. But most of all, I want to know I had a life that was worth living and I did not hide myself away because I was too scared to take a risk. We all die. We may end up in a heaven or a hell, a new body or galaxy, or we may just end. And if my choices are not your style or they sicken you, then you have no obligation to be in my life so you can continue to judge me because we are different. I am not ashamed of who I am but I do pity you for thinking I should be.