Everyone makes mistakes, some more than others. For a long time, I thought that my mistakes made me unlovable and worthless. I was wrong. I soon learned that making mistakes is part of being human and that being human is all I ever need to be.
If it weren’t for Lydia, I don’t think I’d ever learnt that. She allowed me to discover myself. For a long time, I thought that I needed another person to complete me and I thought that she was that person. At first we were just friends but our friendship developed into something more. I bared my soul to her. Foolhardy. That’s what I suppose we were, and happy. Truly, it was like a fool’s paradise. So much so, that it was laughable and we did. We laughed. A lot! We shared so many things with one another. We took turns daring each other to do crazy, sometimes dangerous things.
Lydia was Lydia. Everyone loved her and everyone wanted to be around her. I knew that I’d found a jewel. I shared something with her that no one else did. It made me feel special and wanted.
Then, I fell in love with her.
I tried distancing myself from her but I couldn’t. I was obsessed. Being without her caused me physical pain.
We gate-crashed a senior high school party one night. It was Lydia’s dare to me. We must’ve had too much punch that night because I can still feel the searing headache I woke up to whenever I think of that night. Lydia was passed out on the couch next to me and the party had died down. I called Thomas. I knew that Thomas would come get me with no questions asked. When we got to Lydia’s house, no one there had missed us. We were safe. Our secret was safe. It seemed more like my secret because Lydia remembered nothing.
Everything that happened the night before came crashing into my mind like a tsunami: the taste of Lydia’s lips on mine as the alcohol swam through our veins; the gentle movements of her hands as our bodies moved rhythmically to the music…I struggled to explain it to her but she seemed unfazed by it. By us. She breezily suggested we make it official right there. I was confused. I thought she knew. So I agreed. Like an idiot, I agreed.
Those few months were amazing. Being with her was like being on an adventure every day, until I found out about her fling and the fact that she was straight. Her excuse: “I didn’t want you to feel bad about yourself.”
Outcome: 413 doses of antidepressants, 22 anxiety attacks and a weekly visit to the shrink! Thanks, Lydia. I guess you were my “magnum opus” of mistakes!