Post by TFP on Oct 21, 2008 17:30:47 GMT -4
The San Diego sun is a beautiful thing, having many shades of reds, oranges and yellows. It’s really quite relaxing to just sit on your balcony and stare ahead at the sphere shaped object that sits in outer space, being orbited by our planet and many others. It’s the heart of our solar system; it’s the sole thing that keeps us alive with its generous warmth. Too many sunset sits and you’ll go blind, or get a really bad migraine that will last for quite a long time. But it’s damn well worth it, folks. Enjoy everything in life you can up until the point that too much of a good thing starts to become bad for you. The nachos, the beer, the drugs, the women, being the King of the Reckless Division, and even enjoying what seem to be innocent little sunsets wherever you may be – it all adds up in the end. Sometimes you’re in for more than you bargained for, but there’s no harm in that. By pushing yourself to the limits, you know what you’re capable of. You can react in many ways when you go over your limit. Nachos? High blood pressure, or ultimately, a heart attack. Beer? Alcohol poisoning. Drugs? Overdosing and going into cardiac arrest. Women? Possibly AIDS, STDs or unwanted children. Holding the most coveted prize in your eyes, the Reckless title? Pain all over your body, throbbing, aching and making you feel every fall ten times as worse as before. Sunsets? Blindness, or migraines for the lucky few. There’s no beauty in good looks, let me tell you that. Behind that makeup is a face of a homely demon whose eyes are dilated and bloodshot, dark circles around the eyes add depth to their stare and I’m just getting started. Too bad, because I’m not going to finish it, I’ll let your imagination run wild unless you’ve been there before like I have. If you were, then the story has already been read over and over again.
As soon as the sky overhead darkens, the wind picks up and there’s a cool breeze passing through. As much as I love the night, the coldness usually interferes with it and the beauty of pitch blackness is overtaken by a homely demon. My eyes are dilated and bloodshot, the dark circles around them add depth to my stare... I haven’t slept in two damn days. It seems that whenever fall arrives, my misery returns and I feel like ultimate crap. It has happened since I was sixteen years old and it would run its course up until the spring. The dark and cold weather brings back that dark and cold personality of mine, affecting friends and family around me... or it used to until they lost all hope in me, giving up since things couldn’t be made right. Whenever the sun is close to us, I feel different and more calm and capable of doing things that I need to do. Whenever the sun and I drift apart, I just do things that I want to do. So really, I become selfish and less compassionate. Believe it or not, I used to be a caring person but then I fucked up and forgot who I was. The reality of it is that I’m lost, but I’m not desperate in searching for myself. I’m well into my thirties, half of my life was based on feeling down while the other half was based on feeling up in high spirits. It’s half and half, so what does the next stage in my life have in store? I turn thirty-two this December, and if I’m lucky enough to make it to that date alive, I’ll see whether or not life past then changes for better or for worse. If better, then I shall continue walking and hope to reinvent myself... for real this time. If worse, then suicide. If half of my life is going to go over that split section, I might as well just give up on it. It’s not a rational way to think of things, but it’s just how I look at it.
Sometimes I wonder if I even have a heart anymore. When was the last time I really had any worries for anybody or anything? Like, seriously? Wrestling isn’t my focal point in life, it used to be, but that was roughly over two and a half years ago, right after I was fired from British Wrestling Alliance. Fans Wrestling Alliance is where I’ve been for the past two and a half years, longer than my tenure at BWA – twice as long. I was happy in BWA, but it didn’t make me happy. I’m not happy here in FWA, but my success raises my spirits. It’s just too bad that my last story of success was told over a year ago, huh? But who else is to blame but me, right? I make bad choices, I have no problem admitting my faults anymore. I don’t listen to anybody, not even me. I contradict myself. It feels as if I’ve got no privacy in my life anymore, kind of like living in a family of eight and all doors have no locks on them, allowing anybody to open up and walk in your room at the wrong time. That’s what I like about living alone, I have all the privacy I could ask for and then some. Nobody to bother me, nobody to get in my way and kill my groove. Nobody intrudes in on my residence like they used to, sitting where they please. That’s an antique chair, Jesse, do not sit on it. Those are collectable bottles, Jesse, do not throw them onto the sidewalk. When you fuck with my possessions, the things I own and want to take to my grave, you fuck with me and the anger you stir up inside of myself are going to create a grudge between myself and you, another thing I’ll take to my grave in replacement of what you took. How well I know you, how well I don’t know you – it doesn’t matter. Best friends are already enemies.
And then you punch your reflection in the mirror.
All of those cracks shatter and shards of glass fall down to the hardwood floor that was recently in a battle with a Swiffer Wetjet less than two hours ago. Around them rains down little drops of red from a pink and white cloud hovering above, trembling from the thunder. There’s always a calm before the storm, and in my case... before I rain down on your parade and strike you with lightning, shaking you inside and out with thunder... I’m sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. With me, it’s weird, you don’t know what to expect and neither do I. I’m dumbfounded by myself all the time whenever the right opponent comes along. Every year, I always have to step up one level higher, sometimes two, just so that I stand a chance. I lose a lot of times, probably because I don’t take myself too seriously, but that doesn’t mean I’m a failure. I’m anything but. I am successful, I am a winner, and I can progress. Some who went against me and won said I was tougher than they had expected and that’s what I want to hear. I could run through the list of people who said that, but what’s the point? They don’t wrestle anymore, and you probably only cracked two eggs in the dozen. I’m interested in seeing if you can be cracked, Ramirez. Not just by me, but by anybody.
As soon as the sky overhead darkens, the wind picks up and there’s a cool breeze passing through. As much as I love the night, the coldness usually interferes with it and the beauty of pitch blackness is overtaken by a homely demon. My eyes are dilated and bloodshot, the dark circles around them add depth to my stare... I haven’t slept in two damn days. It seems that whenever fall arrives, my misery returns and I feel like ultimate crap. It has happened since I was sixteen years old and it would run its course up until the spring. The dark and cold weather brings back that dark and cold personality of mine, affecting friends and family around me... or it used to until they lost all hope in me, giving up since things couldn’t be made right. Whenever the sun is close to us, I feel different and more calm and capable of doing things that I need to do. Whenever the sun and I drift apart, I just do things that I want to do. So really, I become selfish and less compassionate. Believe it or not, I used to be a caring person but then I fucked up and forgot who I was. The reality of it is that I’m lost, but I’m not desperate in searching for myself. I’m well into my thirties, half of my life was based on feeling down while the other half was based on feeling up in high spirits. It’s half and half, so what does the next stage in my life have in store? I turn thirty-two this December, and if I’m lucky enough to make it to that date alive, I’ll see whether or not life past then changes for better or for worse. If better, then I shall continue walking and hope to reinvent myself... for real this time. If worse, then suicide. If half of my life is going to go over that split section, I might as well just give up on it. It’s not a rational way to think of things, but it’s just how I look at it.
Sometimes I wonder if I even have a heart anymore. When was the last time I really had any worries for anybody or anything? Like, seriously? Wrestling isn’t my focal point in life, it used to be, but that was roughly over two and a half years ago, right after I was fired from British Wrestling Alliance. Fans Wrestling Alliance is where I’ve been for the past two and a half years, longer than my tenure at BWA – twice as long. I was happy in BWA, but it didn’t make me happy. I’m not happy here in FWA, but my success raises my spirits. It’s just too bad that my last story of success was told over a year ago, huh? But who else is to blame but me, right? I make bad choices, I have no problem admitting my faults anymore. I don’t listen to anybody, not even me. I contradict myself. It feels as if I’ve got no privacy in my life anymore, kind of like living in a family of eight and all doors have no locks on them, allowing anybody to open up and walk in your room at the wrong time. That’s what I like about living alone, I have all the privacy I could ask for and then some. Nobody to bother me, nobody to get in my way and kill my groove. Nobody intrudes in on my residence like they used to, sitting where they please. That’s an antique chair, Jesse, do not sit on it. Those are collectable bottles, Jesse, do not throw them onto the sidewalk. When you fuck with my possessions, the things I own and want to take to my grave, you fuck with me and the anger you stir up inside of myself are going to create a grudge between myself and you, another thing I’ll take to my grave in replacement of what you took. How well I know you, how well I don’t know you – it doesn’t matter. Best friends are already enemies.
And then you punch your reflection in the mirror.
All of those cracks shatter and shards of glass fall down to the hardwood floor that was recently in a battle with a Swiffer Wetjet less than two hours ago. Around them rains down little drops of red from a pink and white cloud hovering above, trembling from the thunder. There’s always a calm before the storm, and in my case... before I rain down on your parade and strike you with lightning, shaking you inside and out with thunder... I’m sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. With me, it’s weird, you don’t know what to expect and neither do I. I’m dumbfounded by myself all the time whenever the right opponent comes along. Every year, I always have to step up one level higher, sometimes two, just so that I stand a chance. I lose a lot of times, probably because I don’t take myself too seriously, but that doesn’t mean I’m a failure. I’m anything but. I am successful, I am a winner, and I can progress. Some who went against me and won said I was tougher than they had expected and that’s what I want to hear. I could run through the list of people who said that, but what’s the point? They don’t wrestle anymore, and you probably only cracked two eggs in the dozen. I’m interested in seeing if you can be cracked, Ramirez. Not just by me, but by anybody.