Growing up, Santana had done her fair share of wrong things, but she was a good kid.
She'd taken a twenty or two from her moms purse, and she'd stolen a few mascaras from her older sister, but she also babysat her younger siblings when her dad got sick and she'd always helped out around the house.
She had lots of friends, and two best friends. She'd loved middle school, and was never fully prepared for what was to come afterwards.
As she entered high school, she'd taken on an image she never really wanted, and honestly didn't really deserve.
She'd only had two boyfriends and those were the only two boys she'd ever kissed.
She doesn't even know how this image that would follow her throughout the rest of her high school experience had attached itself to her.
One minute she was walking through the front doors of McKinley High the first day of freshman year, and the next she was walking down the hallway in her short cheer skirt, guys watching and girls conspiring.
She didn't know exactly how she'd been established this way, but she figured she was given the role, so she'd take it head on.
She lost her virginity almost a month after starting freshman year.
Had many more guys after that, party after party.
Ninety percent of her texts were about her underwear, and one hundred percent of her school time was spent living up to the image that had been forced upon her.
She didn't know why she didn't try to shed herself of what everyone else had defined her as, but she never did. She acted as if it didn't bother, as if she'd always been this way.
She hadn't really thought about it.
It was freshman year, she wanted to be popular, and she was getting more attention. So she'd fallen into another high school category, acting as people thought she should.
So, she just did what she wanted.
Without a second thought, she'd do what she wanted.
It wouldn't be until her shirt and bra were discarded on the floor that she'd mentally realize what she was doing.
Not until the 'sent' signal appeared on her phone after typing a not so appropriate message, would she really realize what she'd said.
She went through a few boyfriends over the years, but many, many guys,
Usually both at the same time.
Nothing really affected her on the outside, no matter what was going on inside her head.
She didn't let it affect her image when her best friend got pregnant by her then boyfriend.
Not the other countless times Noah Puckerman had been unfaithful.
Or when things went too far with someone, someone who happened to not only be a girl, but also her other best friend.
As far as anyone could see, she was fine. These things couldn't touch her, not Santana.
No one could really see Santana.
She'd look back years later and realize her whole high school experience had been a lie.
Stealing money or cheating on boyfriends didn't even compare to this huge lie. She'd lied to everyone around her, but most of all, she'd lied to herself.
She wasn't what everyone had believed her to be, even what she herself had believed her to be.
That image had taken over her body and it had become her.
She was just Santana Lopez.
Just Santana.
Was that not enough?