It isn’t all bad here. I hope everyone knows that. I hope everyone could grow to love the walnut trees that line my driveway. Love the tea that everyone drinks here. Love the way that I have always been amiable and able to talk to strangers on a basic level. I’m not sure that I have accepted these things are beautiful or good yet. This place, my place, has left me so empty that I cannot call it home. I’m trying to love it without thinking about the horror I have seen within it. But can you do that? Can you leave it behind? Everyone must think I hate the state of West Virginia and its people. My family thinks so. They call me Miss Lydia or Lydia Alexis when they feel that I’m being snotty. They think I hate them all. Some of them are right.