I buried my boyfriend

By Natalya Durmont


Here is a girl, Anonymous.
Anonymous is five.
She is in Kindergarten.
She has her first boyfriend.
His name is Brad.

She likes the way he makes her feel inside.
The excitement that rushes into her bloodstream whenever she sees him.
How intense carpet time is when their hands touch accidentally.
It’s something she’s never felt before.
“Maybe Is this what it feels like to have a crush?”
“It kind of feels like I’m in the clouds!!”
“My head starts to feel all funny!!”
It feels very vulnerable for her.

She runs home to tell her mother how crazy her afternoon was with the one and only Brad.

“Mommy! Mommy! My boyfriend Brad sat next to me at carpet time today. When he kissed me on my cheek, I started to feel all funny inside. What’s happening to me?”
Her mother laughs.
It’s the first time she has ever spoke about boys to her mother.
This is the feeling talk every mother has mother has had with her daughter.
“You and Brad like each other,” her mom said.
“Just make sure you’re careful. Especially when you get older. Boys can make your heart hurt. The happy feelings you are feeling now can turn into bad ones later.”
“How do they turn to bad ones?” Anonymous asked.
“In the relationship, you guys can become like the same person. You can get really attached. The feelings he’s feeling; you will feel them too.”
“Well what do I do when the feelings get bad?” Anonymous asked. “What if he falls down and hurt himself? I’m going to be so sad too?!”
“Probably,” she said laughing again.

Her mother taught it was funny when she was five.

Here is a girl, Anonymous.
Anonymous is seventeen.
She is in her senior year of high school.
She has a new boyfriend.
His name is Chad.

“What do you think of me?” Anonymous would ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Like what do you think of me? Like how do I make you feel??”
“Well you’re mind-blowingly amazing and super dope and I can literally talk to you for hours on end. You’re so fucking pretty too. And when you sing to me?! I AM BLOWN AWAY!”

She loves the way he makes her feel.
Her heart races when she sees him.
They are wild together.
They go out.
They do drugs.
They don’t come home until three in the morning.
They talk about spending the rest of their lives together.
It’s almost too good to even be real.

Chad was the happiest boy.
Kind of like Peter Pan.
He was young, brave, carefree,
And “so fucking happy all the fucking time,” he would say.

Chad covers his feelings.
“I’m pretty much sad 99% of the time,” he would tell her. But you would never know.
Anonymous didn’t even know and that was his girlfriend.
At nights, he hides away all his emotions.
He puts them in a bag and puts them in his draw.
Never to be opened again.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to just let your feelings all out?” She asked.
“Its honestly not that easy. You wouldn’t understand.”

One time, he took a bunch of pills and had to go to the hospital to get his stomach pumped.
Chad called Anonymous.
Only her.
“Don’t tell anyone where I am. I don’t want anyone to know,” he said to her.
He called every night on the phone until the day he was discharged.

“The feelings he’s feeling, you will feel them too,” mother said.
Her mother didn’t think it was funny when she was seventeen.
“You can’t try to make me happy all the time because it’s ripping you apart. I can’t drag you down too,” Chad explained.
So she left.
Because the heartache was too much?
Did it hurt to see him decompose into nothing?
To watch his beautiful, joyful, energetic body collapse.
If she loved him shouldn’t she stay?
Or did loving him make her go?

Three days after he got discharged,
He went back to his house in the middle of the night.
No one was there.
He drank bleach.
And hung himself.

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?!”
“YOU MUST FEEL TERRIBLE.”
“I’D WANNA BE DEAD TOO IF I WERE YOU!!”
“DO YOU WANNA DIE RIGHT NOW??”

“No.”
“I do.”
“Maybe.”
“Yes.”

“It’s all my fault.
Why did I let him be alone?
Why didn’t I help him?
I could’ve stopped it.

Why couldn’t he just tell me how he was feeling?
Why did the doctors release a suicidal adolescent?
How am I gonna cope?

What am I supposed to do?
He was my person.”

Time gave her the answers.
Time made her heart heal.
Time made her forgive him for being selfish.
Time made her not resent him.
Time made her forgive his family for causing his death.
Time made her forgive the doctors for discharging him,
Time made her let go.
Time made her never forget.

Here is a girl, Anonymous.
She is still seventeen.
She is in college now.
She’s happy.
In a relationship even better than the last.

It’s almost gonna be a year.
She has dreams about Chad at night.
He talks to her.
She sings to him.
That’s how they communicate.

“What did you do when you were doing it?” she asked him.
“Well I called a lot of people.”

“Did you call me?”
“Of course I called you. You’re beautiful to me.”