Who am I?  Good question… I am a liar. I am a fake. I am imperfect.

I'm a liar. I lied when people asked me how my home life was when we didn't have running water and I had to wash dishes with boiled snow. I lied to the cops when they asked me if my mother dealt drugs. I lied to my father when he asked me if I was happy here and doing okay. I am such a liar. I lied to my mother when she asked me if anyone had physically hurt me. I've lied to churches when they asked me if I'm a believer. I have lied to almost everyone around me.

I'm a fake. I faked being strong when my cousin died and my mother went into a psychiatric hospital. I fake emotions almost every day so people won't know I come from such a broken home. I faked a smile when my mother told me she was sorry and that she loved me. I faked not knowing she was an addict. I faked my address so people wouldn't know I stayed in my car. I have faked so much I don't know how to be real. I couldn't cry when my best friend died, no matter how much I tried. I fake so much it is becoming real.

I'm imperfect. I am far from perfect. I have low self-esteem. I'm overweight. I have acne and a dull personality. I have a broken family full of suicides, overdoses, depression, divorce, and false hope.  I am broke. I've worked since I was 16, I pay my own rent, my own bills. I have no extra money. I don't know how I will pay for college. Perfection is something I dream to achieve. Perfection is ideal, but is it even real?

I am determined. I am thoughtful. I am independent.