I suppose I ought to say something about either myself or my life before beginning to post my actual works. My name is Lydia, and I am 21 years old. My hair, brown with black streaks, flows past my shoulders. I have bright blue eyes that turn grey when I am depressed and green when I am... otherwise engaged. I am not a good writer, nor am I a good artist. I am merely grammatically inclined. I hope to be an English teacher in the future, though I hate kids who leak. I suppose I should begin with my life story. I was born August 23, 1990 in San Jose, California. I can only vaguely remember the place, the small apartment with white textured walls on the outside, off-white faded paint on the inside. My family and I moved from there the year my brother was born, 1994. We moved into yet another small apartment in Sacramento. My mother had a job in San Jose still, and left my brother and I with my dad. He beat my brother and I, relentlessly, trying to get over the fact that his wife did not live with him or their children. Though I do not agree with how my father treated us, I understand that it must have been difficult for him. To raise two children on your own as a male would be almost unbearable, I believe. But, at the time, I did not believe that. At the time I thought he hated my brother and I. I would spend a lot of time outside, talking to people. One day, I talked to the wrong people, and they decided to show me a lesson.  I was five when the men came up to me, offering to be my boyfriends. I had never had one, even though my friends all had. I agreed. They told me that I must do certain things before a man and a woman could be together as boyfriend/girlfriend. I believed them, and followed them behind my building, where they did unspeakable things to me. My father came down directly after, caught me with my pants down, and beat me until I couldn't remember my name. He thought I had pissed in the bushes. A little less than a year later, my mother got a job in Sacramento. We moved into another apartment complex, which I believe was called Carmicheal Gardens. In the three years in which I had lived with only my father, I had been home schooled. My father had always taken to English rather than Math or Science, so that is what we studied. At age 10 I had begun reading Stephen King's Insomnia. Which, by coincidence, was the year I first fell in love. His name was Mark Farmer, a young boy of my age, who would hang out with the rejects at a place he would call "the three trees." These three trees were Eucalyptus, giving off a scent that could slow a heart from a mile away. He would come towards me on the playground, and I would freak out, dropping whatever I was doing to run away. One day, he came to the jungle gym as I was about to the top. Once I reached the top, I saw him at the bottom. Seeing him, I dropped through the bars in the middle of the monkeybars. the back of my head hit one bar, bounced back, and slammed my front teeth into the bars. After that day, I began watching him. I watched him pick up rejects and drop them at the three trees. The beautiful scents coming from the trees brought peace to them, and though I did not believe it at the time, myself as well.

I will write more when I am online next.