Everyone had always thought of me as a "good girl". Hell, most times even I was deluded into believing it myself. I wanted to be something more than I was, well, maybe better the right word; I wanted to be something better. I didn't want to be affected like I was; but as all afflictions go this one would gnaw at me increasingly over the years. Sometimes I could bat it down, other times it exploded forth, leaving me soaked in my own regret. I hate clichés, and I hated even more than I was one, that I couldn't break the mold and discredit the stereotype. I didn't want to be face it, but after what I'd done nothing could stop it from rearing its ugly head, sniffling hopefully at the victim laden situation, and commence to snowball out of control.

But it was time I faced facts, came clean, sucked it up and admitted my problem that I knew upon my admission would become my label and that I would inadvertently go on boosting the stereotype: "Once a cheater, always a cheater". And I was a cheater.

And it just might save my life.