Scars never fully heal reflects Justin as he traces the lines along his wrist, what sort of fucked up world do I live in? He lost his virginity to a groupie at 14, she was aged 22. Fucked up, so fucked up. She was the same girl who less than two months later introduced him to the fast and furious world of illegal substances. 14? Jesus.
The show wasn't even that big, but it lead to bit parts in dramas and it wasn't long until he became a soap star. It felt like all eyes were on him, expecting him to be top of his game all the time, and half expecting him to fall. His mom came to visit often, but not often enough to notice him spiralling downhill, to stop him before he fell flat on his face, alone. A fourteen year old kid doesn't have a clue how to act in normal circumstances, so how was he supposed to cope when people had such odd expectations of him? Well his personal assistant was supposed to help. Bullshit, had no clue whatsoever. I could have told her to bend over and snorted a line over her bare ass and she wouldn't of had a fucking clue.
How come all eyes were on me? Why was he so fascinating, why did the public take an interest? It was a popular soap opera, and with him having such skills, he got many of the storylines, he was the darling of the show. No one asked if that was alright with him, he was on contract. Aged 13 to 15 I was told to act out finding my long-lost twin, uncertainties in my sexuality, getting a girl pregnant then dealing with miscarriage, being bullied, suffering from peer pressure. I was just a kid, what did they expect? Even Lara with her rape, suicide attempt, possesion by evil spirit and inevitable exorcism didn't have it as hard as me.
Then the parents drew attention, mother being totally supportive, not pushy though, my work schedule was my own decision, but the father saying he could crash and burn, that it wasn't natural. All those arguements... all of them revolving around me. He was her soulmate but I ruined it, and tainted any happy memory between the two. Why was I born?
I wanted to crawl under a rock, I couldn't deal with it. And as well as making him feel cool and grown up, idiot, drugs would hide him away from unattainable expectations. The paparazzi even started following him. He started appearing in 'National Enquirer' with rumours of drugs taking their toll. He told his mother they were all bullshit and she believed him, she trusted him.
When he wasn't already high, he was seeking escape, he started sleeping around, aged 15. What the fuck? It was his only way of escape, taking his mind off things. I could have a beautiful love child somewhere for all I know. That became his second addiction. Fast loving from beautiful women, indescribable highs from the best drugs, I thought I was a damn rockstar. But reality can't be pushed away forever.
One night while staring out at the sky, trying to make out the stars through the effects of light pollution, everything suddenly became clear. He climbed onto the railings of his fifth floor balcony and jumped. But he didn't die, that would have been so much better, so much better than this. He was paralysed completely, can't move, can't speak. He has to be fed, has to be changed, has to be washed by someone. Like a vegetable. But his mind is very much active, no fucking brain damage, what fucking chance of that was there? Except no one knows that, they all think he's gone completely, I'm so tired of being talked to like a damn baby.
Why was I kept alive, doesn't anyone realise how much better it would be? Why carry on the suffering, why not stop looking at me as if a part of your heart has been ripped out Ma? No one has the heart to pull the plug.
I suppose this is what you get, what you get when you don't stay straight, don't use your common sense. If only I could turn back time; I would have used a gun to my head instead.
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