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But you remind my senses of what life feels like to live.
To live.
Absent of all the ambiance victory brings when you let it in.
Let it in..
It pained me to see the daylight any more.
It felt wrong.
I was low.
Suffering.
Forgetting how fulfilling it is to bask in your endless layers of renewal. I was struggling to escape and redefine myself. Definitions can be altered. Words can be misused. I felt like I was drowning when it was cold or like when I was abused.
I... was abused.
Like when I was a child. He would beat me. Smack the will from my legs. Snatch the honor from by soul. It lasted on until I was red all over. Daylight was the furthest thing I could see, even when it was on my face.
How I missed you.
I struggled to redefine myself then. I made a point of listing excuses to stay around an abusive step-parent... because... "he made me". I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again. Yet here we are. Your warm gaze on my cheeks. The glow of your beams lighting the darkest times away. It makes me smile. It makes the hard nights worthwhile. After an arctic chill deep in my bones, you helped me shiver it out. I grinded and pulled to the full extent of my desire to win. After so many rumors. So many shadows tried to eclipse you. Tried to defeat me. Valiant efforts week in, week out, but nothing to show for it... made me feel... weaker. I had forgotten that the sun will come out again.
There it is.
And there you are. Rising over the deepest horizon in the distance. Kissing the land with your subtle creeping reveal. How I missed that feeling. To be completely whole again. To be rewarded. To know I am accomplished. Now, like an addict I yearn for your touch. I want to make everyone who comes across me remember the daylight that shines through me. The daylight that causes them to step back and wonder if they can ever eclipse such vividness. In passion. In want. In me. The past may be a lesson, the present a frozen second to divide, but the future will be rich with promise... when 'The Radical' reflects the vivid daylight into Trax's eyes.
☆
Gabe Reno sits in the corner of a dark empty room. The light through the window slowly moving toward him from the sunrise. His head in his hands. Tears dripping down his forearms to a collection of droplets on the wood floor. Inching closer, minute by minute, he reflects on his ability to accept daylight again. He takes his hands down from his face. Ready to feel alive again.
My persistence never waned. But my heart skipped in the deliberate doubt that had crept in. The days were longer. I wasn't looking forward as much as back. Time was slipping through my fingers in every way. I knew something had to change. As a kid it was simple. I just didn't have the tools or wherewithal to fight back. Until... until... he finally pushed too far. After taking beatings for a solid year and a half. After burying my head in the sand to get a small reprieve. After all the lonesome night distracting myself from the pain. I took him on. I looked into his eyes and said "no". Such as easy word to say, but in those prior 18 months I could never seem to muster it. Maybe it was fear. Maybe not. I needed somewhere to live. Somewhere to thrive. But it finally hit me like a ton of bricks. It just... clicked. What I was doing wasn't any way to live. What I was feeling wasn't normal. And the only one who could save me was me. I beat that man who married my mother. I balled up my fists as hard as I ever have, maybe harder than ever since. Blow after blow he began to whimper. To moan like he had been me, and knew no other way to be toward me. I had seen blood before. On television. On scrapped knees after falling off a skateboard. But I had never seen it flow from someone's eyebrows, and nose, and mouth. It was rewarding in a sense, but hardly enjoyable. I had been pushed to the brink, and finally responded. That happened again. Only it was Chris Chaos, Thomas Nixon, and Thaddeus Duke who backed me into a corner. Sometimes remembering that feeling makes me delay a reaction. Not wanting to hurt, but to stop the hurt. Eventually, every man has a breaking point. On the deck of that ship, I was bleeding, I was hurt badly... because they beat me for being cocky, for being in their way. Then, that old familiar thing happened. It clicked. I knew balling up my fists felt rewarding, but in the end the price would be more pain. But this time... I was wrong. I didn't feel the pain as adrenaline shot through my veins. I felt good. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. The daylight. It igniting something in me that had been dormant out of fear of repeating the same things from my childhood. But I had never considered the facts that now I have the tools, I have the ability, and I have a thirst to do it again.
The beam of sunlight reaches his feet. He wipes the tears from his face, looking up with a bold jawline, and an essence of purpose.
Trax may know struggle. His past may haunt him in ways I could never imagine. But my imagination isn't the only expanse my mind works off of. It has become sharper; seeing things for what they are. My severance was never going to last. Because deep inside the wanting of that glory. The sound of my name announced as winner will bleed my senses into their rightful place. My place is here. My moment has come. In the deepest corners of the room, the darkness hides from what it knows to be bright. Trax is a shadow puppet on the way. He will appear to divert your attention in an instant of jovial pointless entertainment. But he will face when the light passes the point of reflecting onto that wall. He will become but a forgotten digested antidote; to the headline printed behind. He can siphon all the courage he can bare. Trax can resist the urges to take cheap shots and try to compare. He can rely on trivial conversation to gain a mite that will run right by. No matter the tactics. No matter the words. No difference will be enough to resist my endless upward curve. Never will he proceed out of the memoriam of shadow long enough to dim my shine. I am immortalized. I am whole again. Gabe Reno. Redefined.
Engulfed in the hot rays illuminating his expressionless face and upper body. The light begins to moved above his head, but he stands to bath in its likeness to a permanent end. Clinching his fists like when he was young. Embracing the magnitude of the moment burning into his everything. His clinched eyes finally open. With a look that is new. It is determined. It is unconquerable.
Daylight, my wandering pathogen of saving grace. I will not let you down to forget this gift or my name. Trax will bend until he breaks. My fists will be the instrument to dilate his every need. My legs will dance around his empty maneuvers until he is blinded by your lead. My body will be the canvas upon which the perfect picture is painted. Like a masterpiece of a time when men were men, and F'n Dominance faded. A renaissance of the dire absence of light. Given up to make room for the knuckles he can't fight. A daydream of giving up to the one standing over his shoulders. In the periodic gander of pity his mind will wonder.
☆
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