I grew up in a rich, gated community where the sun seemed to always shine.
Everyone had everything they could have ever wanted. Money, luxury vehicles, and large houses complete with a nice yard and a swimming pool.
And the neighbors.
Let's not forget about the neighbors.
In the summer, large barbecues would be hosted at several of the family's houses. Families would come together and just eat.
And eat.
And eat.
It was quite the blast, really.
Kids would run around the pool, all the while the parents screaming at them not to run because it is slippery. Little fancy well groomed dogs would be at their heels, yapping and joining in on the fun.
Teenagers, meanwhile, would abandon the pool party and the barbecue to walk down the street and vape because apparently, vaping was cool then and heck, it may even be considered cool now.
Adult men would stand by the barbecue with a bottle of beer in one hand talking about the latest football game and how to flip a better burger. Adult women would gather around the patio's table set and talk, no, brag about how amazing their lives are.
But, their lives were anything but amazing, because in reality, their lives were falling apart behind closed doors.
Nobody knew about Cindy's home going through a foreclosure. Nobody knew that she could no longer pay the bills and was now losing her home to the bank. Nobody knew the countless nights she spent crying over her three sons while they slept, because they would soon live on the streets.
Nobody knew that Richard was battling cancer. Nobody knew that he had to sell most of his belongings to pay for his treatments and chemotherapy. He never invited anyone over to his house because they would see how empty it is. He wouldn't let himself die just yet, he promised his granddaughter he would walk her down the aisle when she gets married.
Nobody knew that Liliana was being sexually abused by her own father. Nobody knew that her smiles and her father's seemingly perfect image were fake. They were merely masks of who they are and what's happening to them. Liliana was the beautiful "girl next door" the neighborhood guys drooled over.
Everything she did was perfect. Everyone thought she was perfect. Her father was the CEO of a major company. He was looked up to. Young men wanted to be like him, wanted to be him.
But it was all fake. Their images, the mask that they wore, was all fake.
I know more was going on in my neighborhood than just those three individuals, I could just feel it.
But hush hush, all is perfect in the world of my neighborhood. Nobody wanted to shatter that perfect image they created of themselves. They cared too much about their image than rather what's best for them.
So the barbecues continued.
But these barbecues weren't hosted in the name of friendship and fun. These barbecues weren't hosted because of the food nor the weather, but rather for a reason much shallower and disheartening.
These barbecues were hosted merely because the entire neighborhood competed with each other. They competed with each other in money and materialistic things.
"So and so doesn't make as much as me." And "I bought the very first, newest phone before everyone else." Oh yes, many conversations like these went around.
All these barbecues were hosted because everyone wanted to talk about themselves and their accomplishments, all the while rubbing their success in everyone else's face.
But hey, as a kid, I didn't know.
Growing up, everything seemed to be perfect. I was naive, I didn't see all the fake people I was surrounded by.
I was too lost in childish activities such as climbing the tallest pine tree near my house, riding my bike (with those beautiful pink, sparkly training wheels, of course) playing hopscotch, and of course, begging my parents for a golden retriever puppy.
It was a child's paradise, and everything seemed to be perfect.
But now, sitting here, trapped behind bars like a caged animal wearing nothing but an orange jumpsuit and being tortured by my own emotions and conscience, I've realized something.
Nothing ever was perfect.
Perfect was merely an illusion in an attempt to look better than everyone else.
But let's go back to the beginning, shall we?
Let's go back to the beginning when I thrived blindly in that perfect life.
Let's go back before I was convicted.
Let's go back before I made the mistake that broke me.