Can you imagine living life hiding from who you are? Hiding behind layers and layers of masks, just so you can feel safe and protected from the world. That's how life is for me everyday. I hate admitting it, but the only time I feel like I can drop those layers is when I am completely alone, and even then I'm not comfortable with the true Santana.

I remember looking in the mirror when I was a little girl, and wishing that I could just change. I wanted to change all the pressure I felt from my parents, even at that age. My mama hated that I liked to play sports, and would get down in the dirt with the boys. She hated that I wore pants and hated dresses. She hated everything about who I was. So I learned at a young age, if I wanted to make my parents happy, I needed to stop being me.

I have two older brothers, Danny, and Ricky. Danny was always my best friend. I remember being little, like only three or four, and him picking me up and swinging me around in a circle. I thought I was flying. When I was sad, I'd go to Danny, and he'd hold me close and tell me stories that he made up. They were always about a brave little girl named Santana who fought all the monsters and dragons and rescued all the boys from danger. I always loved hearing the next story about how I defeated everything that scared me.

I remember him leaving. The shouting and anger, and screaming and crying that happened. I was eight, and didn't understand what was happening. Danny was 17 at the time, and all I knew was that he had done something to make my parents kick him out. I wanted to run down and throw my arms around him and beg him to take it back. I tried to hug him goodbye, but when I tried to touch him, my mama lost it and told him he wasn't allowed to ruin her daughter as well. I didn't get it at the time. My favorite person in the world was being taken from me, and I didn't understand why they were making him go.

I asked my mama about him a lot after he left, and all she would tell me is that he was very sick and couldn't stay with us until he got better. I just remember wanting it to be anybody but him that was going away. I needed him in my life. I told my parents I hated them, and that I didn't care if he was sick, I just wanted him back. They told me that I would understand when I grew up. And I did.

The first time I met Brittany was in Grade 4. We were in the same class, and we were assigned as each other's partners for reading. I remember thinking that she looked really cute in her pigtails, and how much I wanted to be her. She was so pretty in a nice little pink dress, her blonde hair up in pigtails. I was scruffy in hand me downs from my brothers, with my hair tied back in a ponytail. I had never really cared about how I looked, but here, with this girl, I really did care.

She smiled at me, and I felt like she was being mean, so I leaned over and pulled one of her pigtails. She looked at me in horror, and tears welled up in her eyes, and I let go. She frowned at me, her eyes full of hurt. "Why'd you do that for?" She asked me, her missing front tooth making her have a slight lisp.

I shrugged and dropped my shoulders, feeling defeated and mad at myself. I looked up, hoping she'd have moved on, but she was still staring at me, her eyes boring into mine. So I was honest. "I was mad cause your hair is pretty and mine's not."

The look of hurt melted away, and she smiled at me. "Your hair is so pretty. Can I touch it?" I nodded, and she ran her soft hands through my hair. From that moment on, we were best friends. I honestly can say, I don't think I was really alive before I met Britt. I was just sort of like a shell of a person. Brittany filled me up, with her joy, and her adorable comments. She gave me someone to protect, and someone to see through all of my bluster and BS and just know me. And then, for the first time in my life, someone else saw the real me. Not only did she see it, but she loved it.