I’d never understood how someone could be a bad kid. I’m a good kid. No, I’m really a great kid. I’m the kid that comes home before curfew, gets all A’s, does every extra curricular possible, and manages to keep my s*** together. I’m a great kid, on the outside.

I’d never understood why people hated school until my freshman year, when I went to the highest pressure school in the city. I was constantly stressed, keeping my s*** together on the outside and freaking out on the inside. I’d have meltdowns at least once a week.  I went from valedictorian to average, when working my ass off.

I guess you could call that the first step.

My friends always did though. I’m that good kid that starting hanging out with the burnouts. I guess you could call that the second step.

I’d never understood why boys were interesting. Then I dated this asshole and got my heartbroken. I guess you could call that the third step.

I’d never understood what compelled someone to steal. I had everything I needed, and if I couldn’t buy it I didn’t need it. But I was at some sample sale where I didn’t want to spend $50 on a swimsuit. My burnout friend suggested I just wear them out. So I did. I guess you could call that the fourth step.

I never thought anything of each at the time.

I have little hope less in my grades as they slip more and more. I lose faith in myself every morning.
I only see the burnouts now. No one at my school matters to me. I hate the building more each day.
I am dating this new guy; he’s perfect for me, innocent, beautiful, sweeter than I could ever deserve. I cheated on him.

I take a juice every morning from Whole Foods or Starbucks. One of those $8 things, all cold-pressed kale or whatever.

I find myself rationalizing everything I do, trying to justify it. Oh, that 67 on your history test? You’re not good at history. The burnouts? They’re more fun, and better people at heart. That kiss with a guy that wasn’t your boyfriend? You weren’t technically dating him yet. The juice? You spend plenty of money at Whole Foods everyday anyways.

I acknowledge this slope I’m descending down but I’m already on my way down. Being a teenager you’re supposed to really get to know yourself. But what if I don’t like the person I’ve come to be? I rationalize more: I’m doing fine for my circumstances, an unsupportive family in the midst of what is soon to be divorce.

But in the end I look at myself and see someone beautiful. Instead of pointing out every flaw, I find something I like. But I don’t love myself. I scream I do. I scream it everyday out loud into the mirror when I look at myself. I scream it everyday and one day I’ll believe myself.

And one day I’ll get to know myself and really love myself. Because if everyone else thinks I’m amazing, I damn sure hope one day I see it too.