A Real Disaster

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There was one problem about being a good girl. One single thing that I can pin point almost immediately: Good girls hardly ever do anything. How would I know? Because I’m a good girl, of course. I’ve been a good girl my whole life, from my first ‘A’ in kindergarten to becoming the valedictorian of my graduating class.

People ask me all the time why I was a good girl. Didn’t I want to have fun? Didn’t I want to have a life? Didn’t I want to fall in love and have more memories? These were the questions that they would ask and I would answer the same way. Of course I want all of that. That’s all I ever wanted but it just never happened. The girls I knew who weren’t good girls were usually the ones who ended up pregnant and alone. They were the ones that contracted STDs and the one’s whose names and numbers were on the stalls of the boy’s bathroom. So as much as I hated being a good girl, it was easier to do so. There was no drama if I was a good girl. However, college changes everything.

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