The one great thing about the secret I'm not quite ready to share with you yet is that it forced me to be the real me. It rendered me powerless to pretend I was anything beyond who I was meant to be—a human being. But it did more than that. It made me feel like less of one. Suddenly, with the stroke of a pen (or a piece of paper that was over a decade old), I had become a monster. I knew that was the way they would see me when they found out my secret. Let's not keep them waiting.
The morning of the first day of my last year of high school, I decided to rip the mask of perfection off. I didn't do it to make a point or to grab their attention, but I did it because I grew tired of being expected to be the epitome of perfection.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish