Post by Jvstice Hardy on Jan 16, 2024 4:17:01 GMT -6
… Had a bad dream on the operating table
I tried to scream, but I wasn't able
They replace my veins with cables
Now I'll never be the same again
I can't reach out your spirit
I can see the light, but I can't get near it
Echoes of your voice, but I can't quite hear it
How did we end up here?
… I spent a lifetime lost
A generation of letting go
And now the daylight can't break through
It's another way back to you
Another two years gone
I spent forever letting go
And I don't wanna face the truth
It's a long way back to you
He hated nights like this the most. The ones where he would wake up screaming. The beads of sweat rolling down his neck while he tried his best to separate reality from fiction. Those dreams. . . they felt so real. Man did they feel so real, just like he was there again in the heat of it.
Battle is what it had been.
What a strange man, many would think. If only they could peer inside of his head, but words couldn’t really describe those feelings. They were damaging, disparaging, and left him feeling cold.
Most of the time he would’ve picked up the phone and dialed a number. Have that reasonable voice talk him down, let him know that everything was okay. That he wasn’t there anymore. That he was safe. . .
safe. . .
did he long to hear that word again, if only he could send the signal through his own head. . .but instead what exactly did safety mean again?
When was he ever actually safe? What kind of kid chose to go to the military and face live action in place of confronting dear old dad?
The kind what was still stuck inside of his own head. Seeking that mother fucker’s approval, trying to prove his point. The kind he couldn’t seem to push down just like the irrevocable feelings that crept within him now. He was powerless to their control. He was forced to feel them because despite his best efforts he was helpless.
Whether he filled his bed with a warm body, or left alone to the solace of himself and a pillow it never seemed to change the outcome of those dreams. . .
and all he could really think was. . .
maybe someday, this pain would be useful.
Who is Jvstice Hardy? That was an easy enough answer. A famed young man who had his sights set on being what one might call a fvture legend (okay maybe just him), but he was a young man on a conquest. Part of one of the biggest factions in all of the wrestling world and making a name for himself day in and day out. There were people who might have doubted him, from his days of wrestling in the UK to his time in House, and now to Millennium. He seemed to land the big gigs, but never the biggest stage. He never got exactly what he craved and that was the limelight. At least he had that same trajectory in his mind much like any young man his age who had a vendetta and something to prove.
Yet what was he was striving to prove exactly? That he could be a champion? Eh possibly but that was bound to come sooner or later.
But really the motivation was deeper much deeper.
He'd sat out on the steps of the patio, the one his mom had been so happy to build when he was four, she enjoyed her evening looks at the sun as it slowly sat and drifted beneath the horizon to welcome the moon and stars. It was something that frequently did when his dad was away working on whatever circuit he might’ve been at the time with his Uncles. They had to make money he’d always say and Jvstice hadn’t exactly realized that making that money also meant stepping out on his mom and treating her like hot garbage, while having a collection plate of bullshit piling up along his way.
At that time, he had innocent eyes, his dad was still his superman, his idol, the person he strived to be when he grew up. For now though, he didn’t know who he actually was on the inside, there were a million questions forming and a duality for something he didn’t quite know. Who at that tender young age could figure out the inner qualms of sexuality and the duality and freedom one could have when he’d been raised so conservatively.
Living in California however did offer him a few insights into things, more freedom then most could receive and a complex nature of experiencing culture and life in a vicarious way that allowed him the exposure and freedom to learn about himself in ways others may not have been fortunate enough to. Yet still, that didn’t stop what transpired that night upon his drunken father’s return. A grim look on his face as Jvstice and his mom had followed their nightly ritual before heading in for popcorn and a movie.
He didn’t even remember what movie it was then, or even who starred in it truly because there was nothing that could match his father’s temperament when he entered the room. Apparently some story about him and another kid reaching his father’s ear that night. News traveled fast it seemed, before he could even say a word he tasted the blood from his lip and found himself trying to lift off of the floor. He could hear his mom’s scream, hear her echoing cry as surely she’d fallen into something being shoved away. He didn’t even know what he’d done but his pulse had reach a vital stride, he was in fight or flight mode and right now the tendency was for flight since it was kind of a battle he couldn’t win. As she sprung towards his room he felt his legs give out on him from the initial shock that had flourished through him and he tried his best to force the door open and then shut it behind him. He could hear him screaming, but the words didn’t make sense from the sound of his pulse in his ears and the steady fluctuation of his heart beating faster. He knew that he’d found out . . . somehow. That he’d be ruined for life from the one little innocent time he’d spend with another boy named Nick.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t had girlfriends in fact he’d had a few and he liked them too, but there was always a part of his mind that had wondered, and when he found out he didn’t quite hate it. . . well maybe one little innocent time had led to a few, but deep inside he battled with it for such a long time of whether or not it was right. How could it be? Why wasn’t it? Then he realized that the reaction his dad had just given him was exactly why he couldn’t be what he felt he was deep within.
and in the moment he was frozen. He could taste the iron in the blood splashing against his tongue, that coppery sensation of his body trying to aide him in healing his wound, and the screaming man he’d once admired just outside that room beating the door in. When he hadn’t been able to make it through Jvstice could hear his mother screaming her words asking him what was wrong, trying to reason with the man who’d come home with his anger too strong, that’s when he heard a smack and a sort of boom and he’d expected it then that he’d laid his hands on the person he admired most.
He felt his blood rush through his veins again and he had enough anger in him of that to kill a thousand men as he rushed back out his bedroom door and into the living room only to see it wasn’t him who’d done the smack, instead there stood his mom with a cast iron pan. He didn’t know where she’d gotten it, or what had transpired, but she looked in his direction and immediately let go of it. Rushing to hug him close to her, before telling him to go and grab a bag.
If there was one thing he ever had long before his time in the military, it was his ability to pack a bag rather quickly and only with the essentials.
They rushed out of that house and when they had driven far enough she’d pulled in to some 24 hour place so that they could eat. She stared at him for what seemed like forever and he couldn’t meet her gaze, instead he remained quiet and stared at the cuticle of his thumb. Rolling his finger over and over again to avoid meeting his stare, until she reached her hand across the table and grabbed hold of his hand.
“Its okay, baby. . . its alright.” She said and all of the emotions he didn’t realize he’d been holding in suddenly burst from within. He didn’t know how to vocalize the words or even communicate them, but there was a part of him that just felt like dying.
But why?
That was a question he’d asked himself multiple times, because really what was wrong with any of it? His mom didn’t seem mind it, so why did it feel like he had betrayed everything that he should have been?
Why did this feel like a burden?
She came over to him and hugged him tight, and he cried for several moments more not realizing that what he was feeling then was the abhorrent hate that others felt for people like him. . . for no reason. Without them even realizing the imposed hatred that someone like him already felt for themselves because of vindictive morals and esoteric ideas.
It took him way too long in life to realize that, those types of people were not the majority and he was free to be whoever he wanted to be. . . even if in his father’s eyes he was living unjvstly .