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I used to know who I was.

A loyal submissive,

a playful little brat,

a girl who loved to push boundaries

just to see how far she could fucking go.

I loved being difficult.

Loved the teasing,

the attitude,

the way one little smirk

could earn me a reaction.

I loved being his good girl,

but sometimes,

I wanted to be his

beautiful little fucking handful.

I wanted to hear,

"Behave."

Just so I could smile and whisper,

"Make Me!"

Not out of disrespect.

Not because I wanted to hurt him.

But because I wanted to play.

To challenge.

To feel his attention

fall completely on me.

To know I could push

within the limits we understood

and still feel safe when he pushed back.

I miss that girl.

And I don't know

how the fuck to find her again.

Because somewhere something inside me changed.

Now I hesitate

before letting my brat out.

I question every playful thought,

every smartass remark,

every little temptation to push his buttons.

Because what if he gets angry?

What if he doesn't understand?

What if the punishment isn't the kind I wanted?

So I swallow the attitude.

I silence the teasing.

I bury the little brat who is screaming

to come out and fucking play.

And every time I do,

I lose another piece

of the girl I used to be.

I still love being his submissive.

I still crave the safety,

the protection,

the feeling of being wanted,

loved,

and cared for.

I fucking miss

the part that made me feel

so completely understood.

I miss the attention.

I miss the playful battles.

I miss hearing,

"Good girl,"

and feeling that little smile

spread across my face

because I knew

I had done something right.

those two words

were never just words to me.

They meant I was noticed.

They meant I was heard.

They meant that the girl

who gave so much of herself

wasn't invisible.

And now?

Now I'm angry.

I'm hurt.

And I'm starting to feel fucking numb.

Not because my brat is gone,

but because she's still here,

trapped behind a silence

I don't know how to break.

She wants to tease.

She wants to challenge.

She wants to look him in the eyes

with that mischievous little smile

and dare him to make her behave.

I'm afraid to let her speak.

And that fucking hurts.

Because I don't want to be disrespectful.

I don't want to fight.

I don't want to cross boundaries

that were never meant to be crossed.

I just want to be allowed to be playful again.

To be difficult without being misunderstood.

To push within limits

without being afraid of what happens next.

I want patience.

I want to feel safe enough

to be the brat I know is still inside me.

And maybe that's what I've been trying to tell myself all along.

I don't want to be punished

for wanting to be noticed.

I don't want my playful defiance

to become argument.

I just want to be heard.

I want the girl who used to laugh

while pushing boundaries

to feel safe enough to laugh again.

I want to stop wondering

if that part of me is still wanted.

And maybe tonight,

I don't know how to bring her back.

Maybe I'm still too hurt,

too afraid,

too fucking exhausted

from holding her inside.

But I can still hear her.

Somewhere beneath

the anger,

the loneliness,

and the silence,

there's a little brat

who hasn't forgotten

how to play.

And maybe one day,

when I feel safe enough

to let her out again,

I'll find myself smiling,

pushing a boundary,

and whispering those two little words,

I've been dying to say.

"MAKE ME!"

And this time,

I hope I won't be afraid

of what comes next.

Because I never wanted

to stop being his good girl.

I just wanted to feel safe being his brat, too.