GROWING UP

It made sense when they told me I was good,

I was only five then, so young and pure.

I was the only daughter of my parents.

A, B, C and 1, 2 are the only things that made sense.

Mommy is the only word I loved.

And ice cream is what I craved.

"You liar!" mommy scolded.

I was only ten, immature and curious.

How could I tell her that I had blossomed?

Space and a mind of my own are what I cared about.

I always wanted to be a good girl.

Fairy tales and romcoms are all I dreamt of.

 Sixteen, grown and informed. 

Popularity is what mattered. 

I didn't care if I was losing myself in the process.

Flowers, boys, and gifts

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were the world I lived in.

"You cheat!" he screamed.

I let out a dry humourless laugh.

I didn't care if I hurt any feelings, I was living my selfish phase.

That is what they didn't know,

I was not good, I was a heartbreaker, a monster.

At twenty, I was exhausted with everything.

Getting out of college was my wish.

Finding a job was my daily hustle.

Trying hard to make ends meet wasn't as easy as I thought.

Love didn't seem to be my best of luck.

I guess no one prepares you for adulthood. 

Perhaps that was the secret behind their words.

It wasn't about the heartbreaks or hardships,

I was good because they saw a potential I couldn't.