Love Lossed

May 5, 2009
By Anonymous

Love Lossed

His name was Juan. His lucious green eyes that sparkled like an emerald on a cloudless day. One eye
hid behind his curly, volumous, black hair. His smile luminated the room. He had broad shoulders,
and abs that hid behind the years of baby fat that never wanted to leave. He always had his baker
skateboard handy. His room was like a walk-in Zumiez store. He always had brand shirts like
Quicksilver, Famous, and Krew, and half of his closet consisted of black board shorts and what
looked like a truckload of the same Krew pants, only different colors. His named him Juan, and he
grasps a special place in my heart. Throughout our relationship, we both blossomed into the perfect
couple. We fought like children, and our fights never lasted long. He knew me inside and out. He
loved to take me on random adventures. One day, at six in the morning he woke me up and told me to
get into the car. I was furious, ready to punch him, but I went along with it. He told me to close
my eyes, and he carried me to the end of a mountain that peeked out of the Franklin Mountains in El
Paso where I lived at the time. He set me down very gently and told me to follow him. He told me to
hurry and keep up or we will miss it. He sounded like a crazy person, but I loved him to death, so I
followed close behind. When we got to the top of the steep, endless mountain, there it flourished.
The most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen in my entire life. It creeped up and smiled at me,
lighting up the world piece by piece. I couldn’t believe that I had lived in El Paso my whole life,
and I was oblivious to the beauty in this. That day I realized that I was trapped the love I felt
for Juan. Two years passed after the first and things stayed perfect, they were different but they
were still flawless. Juan kept finding unique ways to surprise me, and make my heart drop. He was
an expert at reminding me why I loved him. He was my first love, and he was a love that I thought
would never end. Until one day when everything went bad. This day everything seemed normal, or so I
thought. Juan took me for a picnic at the park, and we proceeded through our day with old movies
and family videos. We laughed histarically, and Juan made fun of my bald head when I was a baby. He
was the happy Juan that I thought he was, but I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought. Love
had blinded me that day, because on this particular day, I would lose my first love to hate. To me
he was perfectly normal. Throughout the day, he strived to make me smile, I wasn’t allowed to frown
with him, and if I did I absolutely had to tell him why, and he would make me cry, and then forget
about it all. When we were forced to end our day by our parents, he kissed me goodbye. As he walked
away, he seemed to be slower than normal. Slower, like this was the last time he’d see my face. He
looked at me as if he was trying to hold on to sanity, but something malevolent was tearing the
sanity out of his body. That look stabbed my brain and I scowered through my head and searched for
the reasons why, but all I found was his troubled, alcoholic mother, and he always said that was her
and not him. He was accepting of his troubled childhood. If only I knew that tonight would be the
night. The night of terror, and pain. The night that I would no longer have a future with Juan. I
went to sleep, oblivous to the thought of losing him, and I staggered in and out of sleep because of
the nightmares I had about Juan. I dreamed about our first hike up the Franklin Mountains, and our
picnics at the park. I dreamed about our home videos, and the skateparks that I watched him skate
at. I kept dreaming about us like everything was perfectly set in line. Then, I awoke to Juan’s
ringtone “Helena” by The Misfits. I answered the phone and I heard sobbing, and heavy breathing.
Then I heard “I’m sorry” and my phone dinged and wrote, “Call Ended.” I fell into panick mode, and
rushed to wake up my mom. I told her to get up quick and take me to Juan’s house, but she couldn’t
wake up .I felt my heart peeling like layers of a frosted cake. My heart slowly crumbed away.
Helpless I sat up in my bed, and tears made a stream down my face. I had no clue as to what was
happening, but my gut feeling was that it was not good. Finally, at six in the morning I got a call,
but it wasn’t from Juan. It was his alcoholic mother, and she was crying. I had never heard his mom
cry before, she always seemed like rock, but I guess rock does have a melting point. She told me
that Juan killed himself and was hesitant to tell me how, but I had a technique of getting my way.
I only wish I hadn’t known. She told me that he tried pills, but they weren’t enough, and then he
tried bleeding himself to death, but it didn’t work. His mom guessed that was the time that he
called me because there was blood on his phone. So, he finally hung himself. This moment was the
moment where darkness started to flow through my veins. I started to hate everything; myself, my
mom, Juan, Juan’s mom. Everything seemed to go from white to black in my world. I hated myself
because I remembered how he told me that night that he wished that he was dead when he was at home,
and I thought he was joking. I was blinded. I hated my mom because she didn’t wake up to take me to
Juan when he called. I hated Juan for killing himself, and most of all I hated his mom for making
him miserable. I went to his funeral full of hate, but I put on a show for his family and our
friends. I told them what they wanted to know. How perfect our relationship was, and how perfect of
a boyfriend he was. I told them about our adventures, and his funny home videos he always made for
me. I told him about the skateparks and the picnic, and I told them what I missed about him.
Everyone cried but me. It was something that bothered me so much. I marched to the bathroom, and
slapped myself around, causing pain to my body in hopes that I’d cry for him, but I didn’t. I had
gone numb from the hatred. I avoided my friends and family throughout the rest of the funeral. My
new home was the bathroom. As I left the funeral, Juan’s mother handed me Juan’s suicide note. She
told me,” As much as I wish this was for me, it’s not. This is for you, and Bethany, I know i'm a
drunk, and I know that he hates me. It’s my fault and I owe you your life. You look number than I
have ever been, and you have never picked up a drink in your life. I’m sorry.” I held the note, eyes
wide open as she walked away in tears. I put the note in my pocket, and ditched my mom to walk home.
It took me hours to get home, and when I did my mom yelled and hollered at me, but I just walked to
my room. I was hesitant to read the note, but curiosity ran through my dark veins, and I slowly
opened it. I felt tears start to build up, but they never fell. I read the note: My love, I’m truly
sorry for leading you on to think that I am the happiest person alive. Its partly true, but only
when I’m with you. The truth is, is that I am afraid to come home. My mom is the reason I have pain.
Bethany, I am so sorry. I just can’t be strong anymore. I am not strong like you. I sufficate in my
own house. I can not move on anymore. I can’t stand pain anymore. I can’t stand the fact that one
day I could hurt you like your dad hurts your mom. I can’t move on to think that one day, one day I
might be like my mom. I might cause pain to the people I love. Bethany, I am stuck here. She has
drawn everyone away from here, including my siblings, and she won’t let me out. This is my way
out.This is my only way out and Bethany, one day you will find someone who you love, and he will be
perfect, and treat you like a queen.You’re beautiful, and the best woman I’ve ever met. Please
forgive me, but I must go. I love you. Juan

Tears rolled down my eyes, and the thunderstorm of hate slowly faded. That moment I realized that I
could not go on hating anyone. Hate ruined my heart. It sucked the trust out of me. It ruined me.
Hating my mom, and Juan, and his mom would not change the fact that he was gone. If I went on
through my days hating everyone and everything that reminded me of him, I wouldn’t get to experience
life. Although I cry to this day about him, I realize that crying can only make me better. Crying
instead of hating is better. At least I can feel when I cry. When I hate I go numb, and my world
turns black. Crazy things happen to good people in life, and Juan had just cracked, and it was not
my fault, and I can’t hate Juan because I loved him. No matter what that love overcomes my hate. To
this day I carry his note in my heart. It was the last time I saw my name spoken by him, and the
last time hate flowed through my veins.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book