There once was a girl.

Of course she did everything wrong.

She wasn't allowed to do the things she wants.

She wasn't allowed to do things that made her happy.

Obviously she then did it in secret.

She lives with the fear of her mother finding out.

She's constantly checking if her mother knows anything.

And she feels this sting in her heart.

Whenever she does something she isn't allowed to.

Whenever she talks to her friends that are allowed to do the things she isn't.

Whenever she lies in her bed at night, thinking of a reason why her mother doesn't allow her to do it.

Whenever she lies in her bed at night, thinking of excuses she can use if her mother suspects something.

Whenever she lies in her bed at night, feeling guilty for lying but at the same time glad that she's so good in it.

She wishes for freedom.

Her life is not hers.

But she wants it to be.

Why can't it be hers?

She is mature enough to decide herself what she wants to do.

It's not like she ever wanted to do something illegal.

She never understood why people smoke.

Or vape.

Or drink alcohol.

Or go to parties.

She never understood.

But she know that this all will go on.

She will never be able to decide herself.