Life Alchemized to Gold

When you grow close to someone, they tell you about the scars of their times. For me, learning what John had pushed through in his life... as if he'd broken through a barbed wire fence... it made a few small wounds on me because of how much I love him. I have often referred to his difficulties while growing up and usually people raise their eyebrows and don't know what I mean. A lot of that is because of how entirely recovered he is; he's more mentally healthy than I am, which makes me feel like a wuss, but moving on. ;) You see, few other people know about them. Mostly my close friends know because frankly, when something affects me I have to talk about it. Deaderpoet has heard about it more than her share, so she doesn't have to read this entry. lol XD These delicate heals of his I want to share because I want you to see as I do that he is amazing. That he can become this beautiful person anyway. I, of course, got his permission to share it. (That would've been bad. He looks at my blog and is like, O.O ... what? - those O's are his eyes, btw. :D ) He kept these things from those he loved to protect them... to keep the pain a separate entity. Warning: some of these things will be disturbing. Turn babies away.
When my Johnny-boy was 14 he was a little battle-scarred already. His parents had gotten divorced, which affects every member of a family harshly. By then, being the youngest, it was just him and his mom living together in a fair-sized city. John wanted to be strong and tough; he ended up friends with a tough crowd, as well. He was out quite late with a friend of his, about 2 a.m., walking in a park. His friend asked him to wait a minute while he met up with someone, so John waited a short distance away while the teenage friend walked over to talk with 2 adults. This friend had become mixed up in drug dealing. Apparently that was the night it caught up to him. John saw one man force the friend to his knees and the other put a gun in the friend's mouth and shoot. After a stunned moment, John started running as they fired toward him. He hid under a bridge in the water for several hours and then went home and did not tell his mom. He later reported what happened and the men were eventually caught.
Further associating with this tough crowd led to another experience. One of the tougher guys asked him to keep watch at his gate for a minute. John did, not realizing what would happen. And this guy drowned another guy in his swimming pool. Now, in this situation, would you say anything to the scary guy? I wouldn't. I'd tell him to have a good night and purchase a bottle of Nyquil on the way home. John was just scarred from the experience, though he was numbing to terror and pain.
And then, the thing that hurt me to the core. John was dating a girl. She had some problems, as many do growing up, and had difficulty handling it. (Her father was abusive.) One night while they and some friends, including her brother, were hanging out, she said, "I've had enough," and went outside. Everyone, puzzled, followed her out. And witnessed her end her life by running down the train tracks to meet the oncoming train. John helped the paramedics and her brother... clean things up. And found the hand he had held. I don't know how he doesn't dream of it every night. I don't know how he is sane. My soul would have fractured. Perhaps his did.
In any case, when I was 16 I met this angry boy. So so angry. So tortured. But I could see this soft molten gold far back in his eyes. I could see it. I just knew it was there. And I stayed. He pushed and pushed away. But I stayed. And I'm still here. And that gold is everywhere now. It covers everything and it glows. And those wounds are old scars now that no longer hurt him. And the lesions I received from learning of them are scabbed over and will soon be gone. And only the gold remains.