A good person

"Well, do you think I'm a good person… deep down?" "That's the thing. I don't think I believe in deep down. I kind of think all you are is just the things that you do."

There were many moments in my life when I doubted myself. I just didn't know if I was doing the right thing or the easy thing—I never know. Am I good? How do I define good? Many people around me may think that I'm a good person, and many other people may think I'm bad, but I can't just define myself by others' opinions.

So, where does that leave me? Am I the only one who can define if I'm good or not? Because I see good people every day, and I can assure you that I'm not that kind of good. I've always seemed to relate more to people who do bad things because I understand. I understand that sometimes everything seems so big and you seem so small that you just don't care anymore—you just want to feel good, so you do a bad thing, hoping that it will fix your troubles. That doesn't happen a lot, to tell you the truth.

But what about hidden intents? Can you do the right thing for the wrong reason? I'm living proof of that. I don't feel like hiding my selfishness anymore—many good things I have done in my life were because I wanted something out of them. Does that make me bad? I don't know, to tell you the truth. I do know that it makes me lazy—why would I do anything if I get nothing out of it? It just doesn't make sense in my head. And with that, I don't mean anything materialistic or something—you can get a feeling out of an action, you can get tomorrow's homework, you may even get a kiss, but you always get something. If you don't, what's the point of doing anything?

The reason I don't get it may make me bad. Maybe I'm bad. Maybe I don't care. As long as the people close to me are pleased with me, I think that's enough.