Even the Smallest Constellation

Lydia 8/21

My name is Lydia Mark. Lydia is a name that supposedly means "beautiful" or "noble." I'm neither. Never have been. I've always hoped to live up to those unspoken expectations, but my life has gone down the opposite route. I'd like for us to start off on the right foot, but in order to do so, you'll have to deal with my brutal honesty. It's a trait at the core of my being. I'd like to tell you that I don't lie, but I can't. I will tell you, however, that I don't lie unless it's for a damn good reason. I've been lied to many times and I refuse to expose others to the pangs of pain that one little lie can cause. I may mess a lot of things up, but I don't mess with people's feelings. I try not to hide things, but I'm not exactly as open or fearless as I once was. It's hard to be fearless when you've experienced the most soul-crushing, intense fear imaginable, and it only makes it worse. It's hard to open up to others when you've had so much taken from you.

It's my senior year and sometimes I wish I knew what was going on here. Here. I act as if my mind is actually a place instead of my greatest adversary. I do have some idea of what's going on. I may be completely and utterly lost in some regards, but I do have some grasp of who I am, at least. I'm pretty much a complete math geek who everyone thinks is a "goody-two-shoes," but they really have no clue. I'm really a smart-ass with self-esteem issues and a real decision-making problem. 

I have been telling myself that this year will be better. "You can do it. Just keep going," is my mantra. It's much easier said than done. I've been running around playing a stupendously long game of "keep-up" for the past year. That's one of the biggest reasons I feel like a huge loser right now. I guess I have my reasons, though I wish I didn't. Since my mother died, I've only been harder on myself. I used to really get out there. I made good grades, I was the president of my school's Key Club (a student-lead service and leadership organization), and I was the girl everyone wanted to know. Until the accident. Until I became almost as broken and cold as the body of my beloved mother. Until she was gone. That's when I changed.

I used to be so carefree, and I took everything for granted... I snuck out of the house late to hang out with boys-- boys that I used to make myself feel better about who I was or how I looked or whatever suited my fancy that evening. I lied to my parents, and I essentially led some fucked up double life.

I mentioned being president of Key Club. That didn't last long. It just so happens that when you let a fellow classmate go down on you in the ladies' restroom at school and a teacher catches you, you not only face suspension but your privileges of serving as a school club officer are revoked as well. I was pretty depressed when that happened. The wounds are still kind of fresh, even though that happened a year ago, and I haven't left the house so much as to get fast food since my mother died. That's one of my problems that sets me back the most. I need to work on that. But maybe I'm not ready. Yet.