Chronicles of a Good Girl

I was a good girl from birth, I was told. I never fussed for eating, I never broke my toys. I held my grudges and never spoke of them. I always smiled at sorrow and helped maintain peace. Then came the time when I was to be judged. Adolescence was waiting to test my resolve. I skipped and I turned and I shut my eyes tight when there was a scare of my ruination. I shooed away guys who confessed their liking. Told they had an issue deep within their psyche. I grew up and married and loved my husband dear. He was the one I dreamed of, we settled for the best. Our families were happy, they blessed us for life. We both had our kids, our little spoilt brats. When once came a neighbour, sexy in her jeans. She strutted her body, in full abandon. I shunned her broad manners and her loud laugh. She lures the men to her, I called her a slut. She then cried away for one her stories. I was happy, my judgment was never to be wrong. She moved from my building, good riddance, I thought. Her influence would no longer spoil the brats. I grew up and made my children be gentle. I gave them the knowledge of right and wrong. They grew up too, soon, and went on adventures. Their life was no longer tied to mine. Relief spread across, a life I had lived. Full of joy, full of fun, a long happy one. When on my deathbed I had the flashback, I thought I did good and closed my eyes. I was a good girl right from my birth, and was a good girl right to my death.