Such a Good Girl

I am a good girl, that is what everyone thinks. That is what I am seen to be. A good sister, mother, grandma, aunt and, lover to my man. I take care of everyone and they take care of me. I can’t let them know who I really am. No way. I can’t let them know what I do, what I think about when the lights are off. How I get turned on.

No, if I do that I am no longer the good girl. No longer the lady they all think I am. The status quo must be maintained at all cost. Only my journal knows. Even then it is referred to as the bad thing, not by name. They may read it, after all, when I am gone. I don’t want my son’s, my grandchildren, to know who I really am. But why? Wouldn’t it be better were they all to know? To really know me and not just this façade I put up?

Do I have the guts to write what the bad thing is? To even write it here? Maybe. Maybe it is time to pull off the good girl mask and show the complex person I really am. A lady with a long hidden secret.

Dare I write it? Dare I not?

I am attracted, turned on by beautiful women. Me, this good girl, is a tightly closeted bi-sexual.