I was good.
I was good at being good.
Good became my god.
At some point, early on in my childhood, I became addicted.
I liked the attention I received when I was good. I craved it. I strove to be better so I could get more accolades. I was the epitomy of the "Good Christian Girl".
Sure, I wasn't all good all the time. I still fought with my sisters, to the chagrin of my parents! I cheated on homework once or twice. I lied. I tried a smoke. I kissed a boy. But all in all, I wasn't that bad.
I thought I just had a really strong guilty conscience that kept me out of trouble. I think now, looking back, I just had to be good. Being good kept me in my parents' smiles. Being good kept me as teacher's pet. Being good kept me out of hell.
But being good betrayed me.