Lost Thoughts

The Faults in Perfection

I can definitely say loving Juniette Wright, with her mysterious eyes and peculiar ways, was the best time of my uneventful life.

She was, what you would call, a lost cause. She skipped school regularly. On the rare occasions that she did show, she was, more often than not, the chaotic results of a wild party, held well beyond the lines of this mundane town.

She was living proof that our lives, as they were, were painfully boring. Maybe that's why girls called her a slut, and guys marked her off as unapproachable.

Juniette was, by experiencing the life they could only dream of engulfing themselves in, spitting in their faces.

And she wasn't shy about it either.

But loving Juniette--experienced, troublesome Juniette--was not the center of my downfall.

My fault in our unlikely relationship was that I saw her to be so much more than what she was: human.

So I got frustrated, and unfairly so, when Juniette didn't rise to my monumental standards.

I imagined this perfect girl, which Juniette was not.

As I got to know Juniette for all she was worth, her drunken nights were no longer some glamorous, envied lifestyle. They seemed below her.

I spent nights wondering what specific event caused her to derail so drastically. At times I thought it was a series of events, maybe even drawing back to her early childhood. And when I felt hopeless, I decided it was her fate to live that way.

And when she explained to me how she was--and I quote--better off alone, I just couldn't believe it.

I had completely thrown away my senior year for her. I plummeted from having seven different colleges fight for my attendance, to waking up with hang overs in places I didn't recognize.

I was a different person, hoping to please Juniette. And I did, for a while. But a while wasn't the kind of forever I wanted, or needed, with her.

But maybe that was another place in which I messed up. I was trying to change Juniette as well.

You're too controlling.

I saw it as protective, wise, loving.

I tried to sober her up because I loved her. I tried to get her to stop smoking because I cared for her. I tried to encourage her to study more because I needed her. I needed her beyond high school. I needed her in college, grad school, life.

But my advice didn't settle well with her. To her, I had set up these walls, and when Juniette broke out, she broke free.

And the freedom was something to die for.

And she did.

After an intense argument--which occurred very often towards the end of her timeline--Juniette stormed out.

I made the point, and most likely too harshly, that All you're doing is killing yourself, and for what?

I had attempted to swipe the bottle of Hennessy from her, but she yanked herself away.

We all die sooner or later. Is it a crime to speed up the damn process? I hate it here anyways.

I told her she was wrong, that she didn't hate it here on Earth. That she had me, and a future and a life to live for. After a while, I was simply rambling. Trying anything to get her to stop.

Hearing her talk so darkly scared me.

I told her I loved her--something I had never outright confessed.

She just glanced at me and smirked.

I guess I love you too--though I don't know shit about love.

Then she left. I should have stopped her. Damn it, I should have stopped her.

I didn't find out until next morning. How detached I felt hearing of it over the media.

And in other news, there have been reports of a fatal crash. The body is being identified as seventeen year old Juniette Wright. The leading cause at the moment...

I glance at the bottle of Hennessy she left.

Although, I'm aware her last words were tainted with mockery, I choose to only remember a portion of it. Because, deep down, I know that's what she honestly meant.

I love you too.