Post by Kyle Shane on Aug 19, 2018 14:00:07 GMT -5
"So why'd ya do it?"
I had been looking out the window all the way on the interstate as they came to the airport. Pensive, my hand resting on my chin. Looking out into space.
There are so many reasons why.
Ego, nihilism, sick of carrying a tag team where only one person showed up, I mean. What do you want from me. Ezekiel is laughing to himself. He's just turned 20, so he retains the arrogant immortality of youth, spiked with it's entropic worldview. Nothing matters in the end, so do what you want. I guess it amuses him to prod the old man about what he does for a living. And then it hurts that I, after my relationships with men like Downfall, am the much older man in this scenario... I'm still not fucking 30, dammit. But Ezekiel asks me why, and the questions are loaded in that. Because he's talking about me pummelling James. And he's talking about the other night, with the girl I met at the bar.
I flash back, in my mind's eye.
She tells me in Spanish that she thinks that she loves me as I finish the last button on my shirt.
When you think of love, what comes to mind?
I see it for what it really is. It’s the trigger for reproduction, at it’s base. At a biological level, it’s a series of chemicals being sent towards your brain to make you feel differently. The trigger is pheromones or mere visual stimuli. This stimulus sends messages your body to activate in a sexual manner. In other non-scientific words, it’s your body drugging itself so you feel the need to stick your loins in any available opening.
She asks me, in Spanish, 'adora usted?'... "do you love?"
A group of humans is no different than a swarm of bacteria. At the end of the day, despite the individual plight of each organism, each member of the aggregate works for the collective whether they want to believe their insignificance or not.
Love is a myth. It’s more chemicals being shot through your body to coerce you into multiplying the human race.
I tell her not wait for me in English as I walk out the front door and into the night. If I was foolish enough, I would pity her. She’ll probably wait for a few days on me until she finally summons the courage for a translation, at which point she’ll be confronted with the harsh reality that I have no interest in ever seeing her again.
"Do you love?"
You may question why I would get involved with a poor girl like that in the first place if I see the foolishness behind the concept of love. To be blunt, it’s because even though I do see the triviality of most human actions, I’m no different than others in the sense that I enjoy the process. It’s not any more substantial than that. For those in need of comforting, I’ll assure you that she’ll get over it eventually. And eventually she’ll find someone foolish enough to believe that destiny has brought them together for the rest of their lives.
As I walk the streets of Southie, I chuckle thinking of the fear most would have about the city I’m in. How they fear the death they hypothetically could stare in the eye of. Death doesn’t scare me, it intrigues me. Not to sound like a braggart but I don’t fear much because the prospect of death seems much more like an answer than a problem. The numbing of a slow fade seems strangely erotic. A last breath strikes me as highly intoxicating. The nothing after death is a vacation for the enlightened.
I finally reach my destination, a sandy beach slightly illuminated by moonlight. I pull my shoes off and roll up my slacks to my knees. No real reason, it just seems to be standard protocol and the stereotypical amuses me. As I walk to the edge of the water, I find a stone perfect for skipping and I toss it along the water edge and into the night.
The ocean is a cycle just like how everything in life is. Every day is a rise and fall, so is every life. For awhile now, it’s seemed like I’m at the tail end of my wave, the demise of the cycle. Maybe this is just the beginning of something new. Maybe I’m right and I’m about to be pulled under for good.
I look to the distance and sigh. I wasn’t always this cold.
"Want to know what I think?" Ezekiel asks me. He slams the back gate, hoisting my bag out of the trunk.
"I think that your heart isn't in it anymore."
I frown at him. "What, exactly do you mean?" And again, he could mean anything. He could mean how I just walked out of one of the biggest storylines in WGWF by beating the living shit out of a partner with even more name value and good will than I have. He could mean wrestling as a whole.
"These relationships with these girls, they were cute for a while. But you always had a different girl to flirt with as a back up until you met back up with that Array girl. And, pray, how did that turn out?"
Kyle...
Do you love?
Her arms are crossed over her chest. "Do you? Do you even retain even an ounce of the feeling or care for my well being that you said you used to?"
"I do - of course, I always do, why are you -"
"Then you have to let me go."
I shift my head down and take my bag. Ezekiel is looking me over with a smile.
"It could be you're right."
I didn't use to be this cold.
I used to care about everything. So much. What is wrong with me?
"So she wants space," the young boy says, heartless and blunt and young, so young. Ezekiel is like me, but the me that I wish I'd had more courage to be at his age. He doesn't question why he is cold. He doesn't second guess. He just does. He consumes. He schemes. And he gets what he wants, or he moves on. There is a ruthless ambition in Ezekiel that makes me, not so jokingly want to be like him when I grow up. And yet I still after weeks of hanging out with him, know nothing about him. But when he cut a member of his gang loose, he didn't shed a tear, or spare a second thought back.
"So you have nothing else to go back to, girlfriend wants space and wants to move on, having hoes doesn't give you the same thrill, nothing but the job and the waning interest in life, huh?" Ezekiel coaches, leaning against the fender of the car. "Gee, that's tough."
"I could join you, be part of your- your little enterprise," I venture. Ezekiel and his group of gym rats cannibalize and flip run down buildings in Boston for gentrification purposes, turning the entirety of Southie into a Mumford and Sons venue. Ezekiel just laughs.
"You're cute and, well," he teases the stubble on my chin, "We have fun... but I don't want a partner in my life, Kyle... A partner is just another word for saying goodbye."
I'm left a little speechless, a little cold, and those words are reverberating in my mind as I get on my flight to Atlanta.
I think about Array and how off and on I've been with her, and it's only now, when she's trying to get her career going and has a relationship with her boy toy Alastair... how I kept her waiting and watching me rut as a young man until the point where we were at an impasse. I think about how things with James started with such promise, but he kept me waiting by the phone much the same way I did Array. The world is a cycle. Everything eats itself. In the end, Ezekiel is right.
I can't get his words out of my mind.
I'm going to call him when I land.
I had a profound revelation going into Summer Madness.
I didn't want to be in that situation.
Sounds simple, right. But the facts are that I volunteered to get deeply into the Tag Division because, well first, I wanted a match at Wrestlewars and I arrogantly went to Flash Rotten and demanded he give me something. Perhaps I thought too much of the WGWF at that state, or perhaps it was a sobering idea that the WGWF tries to go on without me. Except how well, does it ever really go on when I'm not here? How many of the people who were all so busy going into Wrestlewars are still here, still endeavoring to stay relevant? So obviously, it was a mistake to throw out opportunities and hand them prime spots of real estate on the Wrestlewars card and freeze Kyle Shane out, keep Kyle Shane where his options were limited. And then, after Rotten offered me a choice of that, or some worthless six man tag match, I entered the Tag division just because when I came back, I came back talking broadly about how fucking asinine it was that there were not one, but two stables doing the exact same thing. I never wanted really to get deeply in the Tag title hunt.
But I recognized that the Tag titles deserved a FUCK load better than they were getting, being gifted, literally to paper champions like Extinction. So I said, in the name of everything I've ever done for the Tag titles in the Tag Turmoil and beyond, I will do the right thing and step up to the plate again. Make them mean something.
Then James Raven came to me, offering me the chance to form a main event level tag team, someone on equal skill level of him, a super team that would never be beaten.
I should have read more into it. I should have analyzed James Raven, and realized that although he was doing good and spitting fire with his James Raven Legends Tour, it was only a matter of time before he James Raven No Show Toured and began slacking. It happens. And at first, I was like ya know, fuck it, I've left the company on short notice and taken it easy before, I'll be kind.
But the weeks wore on. And it continued. And I got to thinking, and watching everything going on NOT in the Tag division. The hot potato between MDK and John Cable for the World Title. Christian Connolly and the diminishing returns that are Dorling. Christian Connolly joining forces with CCP. And it grew sour in my mouth.
I deserved better than the Tag titles. I deserved better than Lunacy and fucking Seth Stevens at Summer Madness. I deserved so much more than putting my all into an unbeatable super team wherein I did all the work, and I can and should be doing so much more with my time than hopping into a tag team or joining a squad. I am Kyle fucking Shane. Did you hear that. I am KYLE. FUCKING. SHANE.
I was the guy who said, "I'm not gonna team up, stables and tag teams have ended badly for me" and yet I keep getting recruited and head hunted for stables. And then when it falls apart and I'm the one doing all the work, I realize once again that people only want me because I was willing to work hard.
Well I'm not that guy anymore.
I'm not the guy in 2012 or 2013 who joined up with two of your stables, Christian Connolly. I am not the edgy young turk with a chip on my shoulder, who had to, HAD to go out there every single week with a hunger to prove myself as the best in the world to upstage Dante Anglais, or make myself out to be some big name in the fed. I am proven, over and over. I have been a goddamn cornerstone, a foundation, a staple in this fed for longer than anyone. But I also haven't been the one who's stayed through thick and thin. As time has worn on, I've burned myself out faster and faster, losing interest because I keep getting dragged down by my associations with others. Losing my edge, blunting my sharpness because I keep getting worn down by the grind of joining some fuck ass stable and having to keep up with facing whatever idiot is challenging me that week.
You may think that I'm saying I don't have it anymore. I'm saying, I've always had it. I've just let myself lose sight of who I am.
And who I am is quite simply the best, the one who doesn't need to prove who he is anymore, the one person on this roster who can and will be able to walk in and just take anything he wants because it is his God damn right. I'm not holding myself back anymore by being chained down by partners.
And the revelation that came to me at Summer Madness as I was beating it into James Raven't head is mostly thanks to you, Christian Connolly. I looked at you and where you are, or rather... where you AREN'T and I said God I do not want that to be me.
Because let's talk about your spot Christian.
You may think you're on the rise. This has arguably been your best calendar year to date, you claimed the Intercontinental Title and you've actually kept it despite having to turn back, a rising star every single veteran was talking about back in May, by the name of Dorling. You've attained success you never, never would have dreamed of in the year 2014 when you were a joke and every opponent was able to crush you simply by saying "Christian Connolly LOLScandal". You have risen above and proven yourself. You have carved out a niche with that championship and, even before, with the DVC, you had started crafting a legacy that didn't focus on your black marks.
But you've done it with the chains on every step of the way and don't try to tell me you haven't. You've done it with Erik Josten, whether yall were tag teaming or not, still taking up empty space in all of your promos. You've done it by joining Chris Page, or MDK, or anyone. You are, Christian Connolly, still the same God damn man you were before when you were a central part of every fucking stable that has ever existed, and fuck knows WGWF has had a rotating amount of ever present stables every six to eight months since 2011, because the WGWF is a horror show of bad ideas. You have been present for, what, eighty percent of them? And then as now, you were never the focal point of any of them. You made a good manager. Or maybe a third from the top. But you were never the man in any of them. I know this because I WAS the man in at LEAST one of them, you recruited me to be your First Hand and your World Champion back in 2013 while you just stayed behind my back and fucking clapped.
Nothing's changed, Christian.
You're still there, behind my back. Behind me. Beneath me.
You can fire up. You can talk about legacy. You can talk about performance. You can talk about the success you've had this year while I've done relatively little except engage in a mediocre Tag feud where I did all the work.
I am still now, and forever a brighter star than you will ever be. And you know it. You as much as admitted it by taking your place as part of an ensemble, around the same time as I was cutting the strings that bound me, that were holding me back and bringing that relationship to a close with a boot to James Raven's face. Parenthetically, how was your Wrestlewars Christian? Oh, right, you didn't extend an undefeated streak... Ya went up against James Raven, the same James Raven who squandered and wasted my time and energy, and you lost. And you STILL have Erik Josten hanging around with you. Or Citizen Truth. Or the Dark Truth. Look, I don't fucking care, I stop reading your promos after two minutes. Point is, you are held back by the entanglements you willingly strap yourself down with, and you almost happily do the thing that I've finally realized has lead to so much of my unhappiness in the WGWF. Partners. Friends. Stables. Trying to fit in.
And another thing you'll think you have going for you. You're going to smirk and fucking wink into the camera, talk about how Kyle Shane is only good because his promos are long. And you do less with more. Well, I'll admit... you've done a LOT less, Christian.
It doesn't impress me that you've spent the intervening months with Dorling. That guy fizzled out like a bottle rocket. After, what, one or three weeks of impressive showings, he started lacking. And by the time he got to you, and he couldn't even beat Christian Connolly cleanly in the middle of the ring, I knew that this star in the making, that everyone was talking about was just a flash in the pan. I know the difference between star potential and hype. I came into WGWF as nothing BUT star potential and unlike this Dorling that gave you so much trouble, I have hit every mark. I've beaten everyone I have tried to beat. I've won every single fucking title I contended for on the first try. Even your legacy with the DVC doesn't mean shit to me; I'll absolutely give you shit for the fact that you actively ducked facing the Smash Bros when Downfall and I fucking pinned your shitty tag team in the middle of the ring and still never got a title shot.
Point is, your legacy means fucking shit and I'm not afraid to tell you.
But that's because your legacy is being that second banana. Of being a partner. Of being an also ran and I do not care, Christian. A couple squeaked by wins and even a split draw against a cheap asshole named Dorling who hasn't done shit, do not improve that. They do not wipe away the patina of meh that surrounds your name. They do not undo almost a decade now of your continued irrelevance. Your inability to be the big name everyone, including you thought you were going to be.
You can claim to be the best. You can claim technical superiority, ring presence, tag team conditioning.
You do not have what I have. And you don't have a legacy that I do.
And your heart doesn't work like mine. As I look back from Summer Madness on and see where I was holding myself back. Where I am no longer. No boundaries are set in my way. Whatever I want, I'm fucking taking. That Television title that's being passed around by the Terry Bordens and Andy Johnsons of the world. Your IC title, for my third reign. Anything I want.
I didn't used to be this cold. But I'm kind of liking it.
And ya know, once upon a time I would have searched for hours for the best way to end this off, the perfect metaphor than encapsulates everything I have been trying to say. But in all honesty, Christian, I don't give a damn about aesthetically wrapping this up for you. Because when I'm done beating your ass and exposing just how behind you are, it won't matter anyway.
Until that time, why doesn't the Superman just fly back to hell?
I had been looking out the window all the way on the interstate as they came to the airport. Pensive, my hand resting on my chin. Looking out into space.
There are so many reasons why.
Ego, nihilism, sick of carrying a tag team where only one person showed up, I mean. What do you want from me. Ezekiel is laughing to himself. He's just turned 20, so he retains the arrogant immortality of youth, spiked with it's entropic worldview. Nothing matters in the end, so do what you want. I guess it amuses him to prod the old man about what he does for a living. And then it hurts that I, after my relationships with men like Downfall, am the much older man in this scenario... I'm still not fucking 30, dammit. But Ezekiel asks me why, and the questions are loaded in that. Because he's talking about me pummelling James. And he's talking about the other night, with the girl I met at the bar.
I flash back, in my mind's eye.
She tells me in Spanish that she thinks that she loves me as I finish the last button on my shirt.
When you think of love, what comes to mind?
I see it for what it really is. It’s the trigger for reproduction, at it’s base. At a biological level, it’s a series of chemicals being sent towards your brain to make you feel differently. The trigger is pheromones or mere visual stimuli. This stimulus sends messages your body to activate in a sexual manner. In other non-scientific words, it’s your body drugging itself so you feel the need to stick your loins in any available opening.
She asks me, in Spanish, 'adora usted?'... "do you love?"
A group of humans is no different than a swarm of bacteria. At the end of the day, despite the individual plight of each organism, each member of the aggregate works for the collective whether they want to believe their insignificance or not.
Love is a myth. It’s more chemicals being shot through your body to coerce you into multiplying the human race.
I tell her not wait for me in English as I walk out the front door and into the night. If I was foolish enough, I would pity her. She’ll probably wait for a few days on me until she finally summons the courage for a translation, at which point she’ll be confronted with the harsh reality that I have no interest in ever seeing her again.
"Do you love?"
You may question why I would get involved with a poor girl like that in the first place if I see the foolishness behind the concept of love. To be blunt, it’s because even though I do see the triviality of most human actions, I’m no different than others in the sense that I enjoy the process. It’s not any more substantial than that. For those in need of comforting, I’ll assure you that she’ll get over it eventually. And eventually she’ll find someone foolish enough to believe that destiny has brought them together for the rest of their lives.
As I walk the streets of Southie, I chuckle thinking of the fear most would have about the city I’m in. How they fear the death they hypothetically could stare in the eye of. Death doesn’t scare me, it intrigues me. Not to sound like a braggart but I don’t fear much because the prospect of death seems much more like an answer than a problem. The numbing of a slow fade seems strangely erotic. A last breath strikes me as highly intoxicating. The nothing after death is a vacation for the enlightened.
I finally reach my destination, a sandy beach slightly illuminated by moonlight. I pull my shoes off and roll up my slacks to my knees. No real reason, it just seems to be standard protocol and the stereotypical amuses me. As I walk to the edge of the water, I find a stone perfect for skipping and I toss it along the water edge and into the night.
The ocean is a cycle just like how everything in life is. Every day is a rise and fall, so is every life. For awhile now, it’s seemed like I’m at the tail end of my wave, the demise of the cycle. Maybe this is just the beginning of something new. Maybe I’m right and I’m about to be pulled under for good.
I look to the distance and sigh. I wasn’t always this cold.
"Want to know what I think?" Ezekiel asks me. He slams the back gate, hoisting my bag out of the trunk.
"I think that your heart isn't in it anymore."
I frown at him. "What, exactly do you mean?" And again, he could mean anything. He could mean how I just walked out of one of the biggest storylines in WGWF by beating the living shit out of a partner with even more name value and good will than I have. He could mean wrestling as a whole.
"These relationships with these girls, they were cute for a while. But you always had a different girl to flirt with as a back up until you met back up with that Array girl. And, pray, how did that turn out?"
Kyle...
Do you love?
Her arms are crossed over her chest. "Do you? Do you even retain even an ounce of the feeling or care for my well being that you said you used to?"
"I do - of course, I always do, why are you -"
"Then you have to let me go."
I shift my head down and take my bag. Ezekiel is looking me over with a smile.
"It could be you're right."
I didn't use to be this cold.
I used to care about everything. So much. What is wrong with me?
"So she wants space," the young boy says, heartless and blunt and young, so young. Ezekiel is like me, but the me that I wish I'd had more courage to be at his age. He doesn't question why he is cold. He doesn't second guess. He just does. He consumes. He schemes. And he gets what he wants, or he moves on. There is a ruthless ambition in Ezekiel that makes me, not so jokingly want to be like him when I grow up. And yet I still after weeks of hanging out with him, know nothing about him. But when he cut a member of his gang loose, he didn't shed a tear, or spare a second thought back.
"So you have nothing else to go back to, girlfriend wants space and wants to move on, having hoes doesn't give you the same thrill, nothing but the job and the waning interest in life, huh?" Ezekiel coaches, leaning against the fender of the car. "Gee, that's tough."
"I could join you, be part of your- your little enterprise," I venture. Ezekiel and his group of gym rats cannibalize and flip run down buildings in Boston for gentrification purposes, turning the entirety of Southie into a Mumford and Sons venue. Ezekiel just laughs.
"You're cute and, well," he teases the stubble on my chin, "We have fun... but I don't want a partner in my life, Kyle... A partner is just another word for saying goodbye."
I'm left a little speechless, a little cold, and those words are reverberating in my mind as I get on my flight to Atlanta.
I think about Array and how off and on I've been with her, and it's only now, when she's trying to get her career going and has a relationship with her boy toy Alastair... how I kept her waiting and watching me rut as a young man until the point where we were at an impasse. I think about how things with James started with such promise, but he kept me waiting by the phone much the same way I did Array. The world is a cycle. Everything eats itself. In the end, Ezekiel is right.
I can't get his words out of my mind.
I'm going to call him when I land.
I had a profound revelation going into Summer Madness.
I didn't want to be in that situation.
Sounds simple, right. But the facts are that I volunteered to get deeply into the Tag Division because, well first, I wanted a match at Wrestlewars and I arrogantly went to Flash Rotten and demanded he give me something. Perhaps I thought too much of the WGWF at that state, or perhaps it was a sobering idea that the WGWF tries to go on without me. Except how well, does it ever really go on when I'm not here? How many of the people who were all so busy going into Wrestlewars are still here, still endeavoring to stay relevant? So obviously, it was a mistake to throw out opportunities and hand them prime spots of real estate on the Wrestlewars card and freeze Kyle Shane out, keep Kyle Shane where his options were limited. And then, after Rotten offered me a choice of that, or some worthless six man tag match, I entered the Tag division just because when I came back, I came back talking broadly about how fucking asinine it was that there were not one, but two stables doing the exact same thing. I never wanted really to get deeply in the Tag title hunt.
But I recognized that the Tag titles deserved a FUCK load better than they were getting, being gifted, literally to paper champions like Extinction. So I said, in the name of everything I've ever done for the Tag titles in the Tag Turmoil and beyond, I will do the right thing and step up to the plate again. Make them mean something.
Then James Raven came to me, offering me the chance to form a main event level tag team, someone on equal skill level of him, a super team that would never be beaten.
I should have read more into it. I should have analyzed James Raven, and realized that although he was doing good and spitting fire with his James Raven Legends Tour, it was only a matter of time before he James Raven No Show Toured and began slacking. It happens. And at first, I was like ya know, fuck it, I've left the company on short notice and taken it easy before, I'll be kind.
But the weeks wore on. And it continued. And I got to thinking, and watching everything going on NOT in the Tag division. The hot potato between MDK and John Cable for the World Title. Christian Connolly and the diminishing returns that are Dorling. Christian Connolly joining forces with CCP. And it grew sour in my mouth.
I deserved better than the Tag titles. I deserved better than Lunacy and fucking Seth Stevens at Summer Madness. I deserved so much more than putting my all into an unbeatable super team wherein I did all the work, and I can and should be doing so much more with my time than hopping into a tag team or joining a squad. I am Kyle fucking Shane. Did you hear that. I am KYLE. FUCKING. SHANE.
I was the guy who said, "I'm not gonna team up, stables and tag teams have ended badly for me" and yet I keep getting recruited and head hunted for stables. And then when it falls apart and I'm the one doing all the work, I realize once again that people only want me because I was willing to work hard.
Well I'm not that guy anymore.
I'm not the guy in 2012 or 2013 who joined up with two of your stables, Christian Connolly. I am not the edgy young turk with a chip on my shoulder, who had to, HAD to go out there every single week with a hunger to prove myself as the best in the world to upstage Dante Anglais, or make myself out to be some big name in the fed. I am proven, over and over. I have been a goddamn cornerstone, a foundation, a staple in this fed for longer than anyone. But I also haven't been the one who's stayed through thick and thin. As time has worn on, I've burned myself out faster and faster, losing interest because I keep getting dragged down by my associations with others. Losing my edge, blunting my sharpness because I keep getting worn down by the grind of joining some fuck ass stable and having to keep up with facing whatever idiot is challenging me that week.
You may think that I'm saying I don't have it anymore. I'm saying, I've always had it. I've just let myself lose sight of who I am.
And who I am is quite simply the best, the one who doesn't need to prove who he is anymore, the one person on this roster who can and will be able to walk in and just take anything he wants because it is his God damn right. I'm not holding myself back anymore by being chained down by partners.
And the revelation that came to me at Summer Madness as I was beating it into James Raven't head is mostly thanks to you, Christian Connolly. I looked at you and where you are, or rather... where you AREN'T and I said God I do not want that to be me.
Because let's talk about your spot Christian.
You may think you're on the rise. This has arguably been your best calendar year to date, you claimed the Intercontinental Title and you've actually kept it despite having to turn back, a rising star every single veteran was talking about back in May, by the name of Dorling. You've attained success you never, never would have dreamed of in the year 2014 when you were a joke and every opponent was able to crush you simply by saying "Christian Connolly LOLScandal". You have risen above and proven yourself. You have carved out a niche with that championship and, even before, with the DVC, you had started crafting a legacy that didn't focus on your black marks.
But you've done it with the chains on every step of the way and don't try to tell me you haven't. You've done it with Erik Josten, whether yall were tag teaming or not, still taking up empty space in all of your promos. You've done it by joining Chris Page, or MDK, or anyone. You are, Christian Connolly, still the same God damn man you were before when you were a central part of every fucking stable that has ever existed, and fuck knows WGWF has had a rotating amount of ever present stables every six to eight months since 2011, because the WGWF is a horror show of bad ideas. You have been present for, what, eighty percent of them? And then as now, you were never the focal point of any of them. You made a good manager. Or maybe a third from the top. But you were never the man in any of them. I know this because I WAS the man in at LEAST one of them, you recruited me to be your First Hand and your World Champion back in 2013 while you just stayed behind my back and fucking clapped.
Nothing's changed, Christian.
You're still there, behind my back. Behind me. Beneath me.
You can fire up. You can talk about legacy. You can talk about performance. You can talk about the success you've had this year while I've done relatively little except engage in a mediocre Tag feud where I did all the work.
I am still now, and forever a brighter star than you will ever be. And you know it. You as much as admitted it by taking your place as part of an ensemble, around the same time as I was cutting the strings that bound me, that were holding me back and bringing that relationship to a close with a boot to James Raven's face. Parenthetically, how was your Wrestlewars Christian? Oh, right, you didn't extend an undefeated streak... Ya went up against James Raven, the same James Raven who squandered and wasted my time and energy, and you lost. And you STILL have Erik Josten hanging around with you. Or Citizen Truth. Or the Dark Truth. Look, I don't fucking care, I stop reading your promos after two minutes. Point is, you are held back by the entanglements you willingly strap yourself down with, and you almost happily do the thing that I've finally realized has lead to so much of my unhappiness in the WGWF. Partners. Friends. Stables. Trying to fit in.
And another thing you'll think you have going for you. You're going to smirk and fucking wink into the camera, talk about how Kyle Shane is only good because his promos are long. And you do less with more. Well, I'll admit... you've done a LOT less, Christian.
It doesn't impress me that you've spent the intervening months with Dorling. That guy fizzled out like a bottle rocket. After, what, one or three weeks of impressive showings, he started lacking. And by the time he got to you, and he couldn't even beat Christian Connolly cleanly in the middle of the ring, I knew that this star in the making, that everyone was talking about was just a flash in the pan. I know the difference between star potential and hype. I came into WGWF as nothing BUT star potential and unlike this Dorling that gave you so much trouble, I have hit every mark. I've beaten everyone I have tried to beat. I've won every single fucking title I contended for on the first try. Even your legacy with the DVC doesn't mean shit to me; I'll absolutely give you shit for the fact that you actively ducked facing the Smash Bros when Downfall and I fucking pinned your shitty tag team in the middle of the ring and still never got a title shot.
Point is, your legacy means fucking shit and I'm not afraid to tell you.
But that's because your legacy is being that second banana. Of being a partner. Of being an also ran and I do not care, Christian. A couple squeaked by wins and even a split draw against a cheap asshole named Dorling who hasn't done shit, do not improve that. They do not wipe away the patina of meh that surrounds your name. They do not undo almost a decade now of your continued irrelevance. Your inability to be the big name everyone, including you thought you were going to be.
You can claim to be the best. You can claim technical superiority, ring presence, tag team conditioning.
You do not have what I have. And you don't have a legacy that I do.
And your heart doesn't work like mine. As I look back from Summer Madness on and see where I was holding myself back. Where I am no longer. No boundaries are set in my way. Whatever I want, I'm fucking taking. That Television title that's being passed around by the Terry Bordens and Andy Johnsons of the world. Your IC title, for my third reign. Anything I want.
I didn't used to be this cold. But I'm kind of liking it.
And ya know, once upon a time I would have searched for hours for the best way to end this off, the perfect metaphor than encapsulates everything I have been trying to say. But in all honesty, Christian, I don't give a damn about aesthetically wrapping this up for you. Because when I'm done beating your ass and exposing just how behind you are, it won't matter anyway.
Until that time, why doesn't the Superman just fly back to hell?