Post by The DVC on Aug 5, 2018 23:14:16 GMT -5
“What?” asks Alexis, her eyes glancing up over the book in her hands as she puts her bookmark in place and sets it to the side. She’d heard what I said but, as with many things I’ve said before, it doesn’t make much sense to her. “What do you mean, Christian?”
My eyes drift lazily across the room, resting finally on the window drapes. A bit dusty and unkempt, and the polka dot design is truly an eyesore...it was as though we were renting out the room of a retired hippy, the dots metallic colors glinting in the faint light of the lamp.
“Christian?”
“Sorry, I guess I’m just thinking out loud. All the shit I’ve been taking from those so-called fans has just been stressing me out is all.” I lied, lowering my gaze to the floor and trying to count the number of food stains there were about the carpet. Losing count at around 13 I opted to look back out the window, feeling a shift of weight on the bed as Alexis sat behind me and began to massage my shoulders, trying to help ease my mind.
“Hey, it’s okay Christian... you’ve still got me, you’ve still got your friends and family...” she whispered, trying to make her voice sound happy despite the strain put on it from her own stress. In a way I knew it wasn’t fair to put her through this with me, but for God knows what reason she often insisted that despite whatever I became she’d stick by my side.
Love is a strange, strange thing.
“Psssh, I guess” I shook my head at her words, trying to relax my shoulders as she continued her massage. This was our regular routine, I’d bitch about something and she’d comfort me with a massage, and then I’d go on to bitch about something related until finally we both grew weary of it and fell asleep. Yet this time Alexis seemed ready with her own words to counter mine.
Sleep would come late tonight.
“Perhaps if you lightened up a little and stopped acting as though there was a conspiracy to make you fail...”
Images of some rosy-cheeked bald-headed bastard in the government laughing at my misery nagged at my mind, causing my eye to twitch as the muscles in my arms tensed. The United States government had somehow convinced themselves that wreaking havoc on wrestler’s lives was the most fun in the world, and you’d be damned to convince me otherwise.
The man was holding me down.
“...you’d be getting a bit more support.” Alexis finished her sentence, interrupting my pleasant thoughts of making old baldy’s head explode.
“Look, I know what I’m doing Alexis, and it’s the right thing for my career. If I'm ever gonna get a shot at the World title, I gotta do whatever it takes. I’ll be damned to not get my shot...”
“And if you lose at Summer Madness?” she interrupted, causing me to glare at the wall ahead as the faces of my adversary turned into wallpaper, sticking tightly to the wall and staring me right back in the eye.
“I won’t,” I scowled, tilting my head to the stained ceiling, “And as far as I’m concerned, Dorling is fucked. My Intercontinental title, that’s my title...”
My precious.
“...and I’ll be damned to let Dorling ever get his hands on it!” I said, my mind swirling with memories of our past encounters. “I’ll take that title, I’ll take his head on a silver platter, and I’ll leave Summer Madness more victorious than ever before.”
Alexis stopped her massage, opting to instead rub at her temples and neglect the muscles in my shoulders. Didn’t she see it? This was my big chance to dynamite that Dorling into oblivion and show them I could be what I wanted to be... the champion I was destined to be.
“Christian, I don’t understand what’s gotten into you lately. You’ve become obsessed with beating Dorling, to the point of where you’re even willing to team with Tristan... why, Christian? What’s come over you?!”
Greed, perhaps...I honestly don’t know and, for that matter, I don’t care.
So long as I get what I want and excel in the ways that I know I’m able to, I honestly don’t give a damn. The heavens could tear open and God’s hand could reach down and smite all my enemies, but unless that title is in my hands...I won’t be satisfied.
“What’s come over me...?” I asked in return, pulling away and turning my body halfway to face her, my eyes narrowing as I let my glare fall on the bed sheets, a slight chuckle escaping my lips.
“Nothings come over me, but something has come to me. The truth, Alexis... the truth. And as far as I’m concerned, the truth is FUCKED! Do you hear me?! It’s FUCKED! The whole damn thing, all the WGWF! Fucked, fucked, fucked, fucked, FUCKED!”
I stood up harshly, Alexis staring at me with eyes wide like dinner plates, the main course within being a helping of shock and fear, my heart screaming for forgiveness and myself too stubborn to listen.
“I DESERVE that title, I have ever since Caged In! These fans shouldn’t be booing me, not after all I’ve done for them! What right do they have, Alexis?! I played their hero! I was what they wanted to see me be, and they threw me away! A paper hero, that’s all I was! Just another toy to feed their amusement! I’M NOT A TOY, ALEXIS! I’M A HUMAN BEING!”
My sudden outburst had left her set aback with tears in her eyes, as she longed to escape the stress this was putting her through. I longed to escape this animalistic nature that had seemingly overcame me, but there was a force calling me to move forward. I shook my head and sighed, my eyes gazing into hers with a mix of frustration and sadness.
“I’m going for a walk.” I simply stated, grabbing my jacket off he nearby counter top and throwing it on. The cool feel of he doorknob contrasted greatly with the warmth emanating through the room, and the icy cold chill of my heart.
So I opened the door, and another page in my life began to turn.
"I'm not going to lie to you. It may be a difficult pill for a lot of you to swallow, but I make a habit of telling the truth. It's often cold; it's often brutal; but it's the truth. So, with that being said, here's me being honest:
This isn't what I wanted.
See, some people do this for the thrill of competition. Others do it because they just get their jollies from causing other people to suffer. Me? I guess I'm a bit of both. More importantly though, I do this because now and then, I stumble across the faintest whisper of a challenge that forces me to dig deep down inside myself and come up with something new.
I do this to better myself.
There used to be a time - five or six, maybe even seven years ago - when people like me were the norm. Everybody had their eye on the prize; everybody wanted to be 'big man on campus'. Nowadays, I just don't see it. Sure there's the odd glimmer of hope - there's certainly a lot of talk, but really, unless you're MDK, Tristan Slater, Kyle Shane, Chris Page or myself.. you're just content being where you are, regardless of how low you are on the card. You're just happy to be a part of the show.
But not you Christopher Dorling.
I look at you and I see a man that's hungry. I see a man that has desire. I see a man.. that wants to be the best. But... there's something missing. I couldn't put my finger on it for the longest time. So I sat down and rewatched our two matches.
Over..
and over...
and over...
and over...
So much so that I could replay them move for move in my sleep. But then, it hit me. Like a glorious epiphany. I finally realized what was wrong. Which brings me to that fateful night that I caught you outside in the parking lot. Yeah, I know, it was a fucking cheap shot, but Chris trust me when I say.. it was needed.
See Christopher.. we've faced off in two epic matches. We tore the house down. Hell, Uncle Dave gave both of our matches 5 stars. But there's a problem.. both times, there was no winner. Now sure, I walked out with the Intercontinental title, but what's the use walking out with it when you didn't prove that you were better?
So that epiphany I had, right.. it was that the previous two times we faced off, there was too much respect. Oh yeah, every promo, every time we were in front of a microphone. (mocking) 'Oh, you're so great Christian! No, you're great Dorling! Oh I can't wait to face you Christian! Oh I can't wait to face you Dorling!'(/mocking) It was fucking sickening. But it was also the reason neither of us could get one up on the other.
Too much respect.
It's like we couldn't pull the trigger on the killshot. We didn't hate or dislike each other. We were just... content. Content with how things were. Content with wrestling a five-star match and letting the chips fall where they fall. Well, that doesn't get me what I need.
I've told you and the world, that I NEED this title; that I would do anything to keep it. Well, I NEED to beat you. And I will do anything to do so. So yeah, I beat your ass in a parking lot. Every chance I've gotten, I've beaten you up. Because I realize that I can only hold on for so long, playing your game.
Now it's time you play mine.
You attacking me a couple of weeks ago, was worth it, no matter how much pain I may have suffered. You gave me exactly what I wanted to see from you.
Anger.
Revenge.
I've seen it your promos. I've seen in your interviews. You're pissed, which means your head ain't where it should be, sunshine. You're gonna walk into Summer Madness more concerned with kicking my head off, then walking out Intercontinental champion. And when you do, you're gonna fuck up.. and I'ma be right there to capitalize; right there to drop you on your head so I can experience MY Crowning Glory as the greatest Intercontinental champion of all time.
Then once and for all, I'll be done with you. No more rematches. You go to the back of the line until you fluke your way into another shot against some champion who isn't me. That dark cloud that hangs over me will finally dissipate and the sun will shine again on Christian Connolly. And I can finally exhale as the world finally sees what they already know...
...that I'm better than you."
My eyes drift lazily across the room, resting finally on the window drapes. A bit dusty and unkempt, and the polka dot design is truly an eyesore...it was as though we were renting out the room of a retired hippy, the dots metallic colors glinting in the faint light of the lamp.
“Christian?”
“Sorry, I guess I’m just thinking out loud. All the shit I’ve been taking from those so-called fans has just been stressing me out is all.” I lied, lowering my gaze to the floor and trying to count the number of food stains there were about the carpet. Losing count at around 13 I opted to look back out the window, feeling a shift of weight on the bed as Alexis sat behind me and began to massage my shoulders, trying to help ease my mind.
“Hey, it’s okay Christian... you’ve still got me, you’ve still got your friends and family...” she whispered, trying to make her voice sound happy despite the strain put on it from her own stress. In a way I knew it wasn’t fair to put her through this with me, but for God knows what reason she often insisted that despite whatever I became she’d stick by my side.
Love is a strange, strange thing.
“Psssh, I guess” I shook my head at her words, trying to relax my shoulders as she continued her massage. This was our regular routine, I’d bitch about something and she’d comfort me with a massage, and then I’d go on to bitch about something related until finally we both grew weary of it and fell asleep. Yet this time Alexis seemed ready with her own words to counter mine.
Sleep would come late tonight.
“Perhaps if you lightened up a little and stopped acting as though there was a conspiracy to make you fail...”
Images of some rosy-cheeked bald-headed bastard in the government laughing at my misery nagged at my mind, causing my eye to twitch as the muscles in my arms tensed. The United States government had somehow convinced themselves that wreaking havoc on wrestler’s lives was the most fun in the world, and you’d be damned to convince me otherwise.
The man was holding me down.
“...you’d be getting a bit more support.” Alexis finished her sentence, interrupting my pleasant thoughts of making old baldy’s head explode.
“Look, I know what I’m doing Alexis, and it’s the right thing for my career. If I'm ever gonna get a shot at the World title, I gotta do whatever it takes. I’ll be damned to not get my shot...”
“And if you lose at Summer Madness?” she interrupted, causing me to glare at the wall ahead as the faces of my adversary turned into wallpaper, sticking tightly to the wall and staring me right back in the eye.
“I won’t,” I scowled, tilting my head to the stained ceiling, “And as far as I’m concerned, Dorling is fucked. My Intercontinental title, that’s my title...”
My precious.
“...and I’ll be damned to let Dorling ever get his hands on it!” I said, my mind swirling with memories of our past encounters. “I’ll take that title, I’ll take his head on a silver platter, and I’ll leave Summer Madness more victorious than ever before.”
Alexis stopped her massage, opting to instead rub at her temples and neglect the muscles in my shoulders. Didn’t she see it? This was my big chance to dynamite that Dorling into oblivion and show them I could be what I wanted to be... the champion I was destined to be.
“Christian, I don’t understand what’s gotten into you lately. You’ve become obsessed with beating Dorling, to the point of where you’re even willing to team with Tristan... why, Christian? What’s come over you?!”
Greed, perhaps...I honestly don’t know and, for that matter, I don’t care.
So long as I get what I want and excel in the ways that I know I’m able to, I honestly don’t give a damn. The heavens could tear open and God’s hand could reach down and smite all my enemies, but unless that title is in my hands...I won’t be satisfied.
“What’s come over me...?” I asked in return, pulling away and turning my body halfway to face her, my eyes narrowing as I let my glare fall on the bed sheets, a slight chuckle escaping my lips.
“Nothings come over me, but something has come to me. The truth, Alexis... the truth. And as far as I’m concerned, the truth is FUCKED! Do you hear me?! It’s FUCKED! The whole damn thing, all the WGWF! Fucked, fucked, fucked, fucked, FUCKED!”
I stood up harshly, Alexis staring at me with eyes wide like dinner plates, the main course within being a helping of shock and fear, my heart screaming for forgiveness and myself too stubborn to listen.
“I DESERVE that title, I have ever since Caged In! These fans shouldn’t be booing me, not after all I’ve done for them! What right do they have, Alexis?! I played their hero! I was what they wanted to see me be, and they threw me away! A paper hero, that’s all I was! Just another toy to feed their amusement! I’M NOT A TOY, ALEXIS! I’M A HUMAN BEING!”
My sudden outburst had left her set aback with tears in her eyes, as she longed to escape the stress this was putting her through. I longed to escape this animalistic nature that had seemingly overcame me, but there was a force calling me to move forward. I shook my head and sighed, my eyes gazing into hers with a mix of frustration and sadness.
“I’m going for a walk.” I simply stated, grabbing my jacket off he nearby counter top and throwing it on. The cool feel of he doorknob contrasted greatly with the warmth emanating through the room, and the icy cold chill of my heart.
So I opened the door, and another page in my life began to turn.
* * * * *
"I'm not going to lie to you. It may be a difficult pill for a lot of you to swallow, but I make a habit of telling the truth. It's often cold; it's often brutal; but it's the truth. So, with that being said, here's me being honest:
This isn't what I wanted.
See, some people do this for the thrill of competition. Others do it because they just get their jollies from causing other people to suffer. Me? I guess I'm a bit of both. More importantly though, I do this because now and then, I stumble across the faintest whisper of a challenge that forces me to dig deep down inside myself and come up with something new.
I do this to better myself.
There used to be a time - five or six, maybe even seven years ago - when people like me were the norm. Everybody had their eye on the prize; everybody wanted to be 'big man on campus'. Nowadays, I just don't see it. Sure there's the odd glimmer of hope - there's certainly a lot of talk, but really, unless you're MDK, Tristan Slater, Kyle Shane, Chris Page or myself.. you're just content being where you are, regardless of how low you are on the card. You're just happy to be a part of the show.
But not you Christopher Dorling.
I look at you and I see a man that's hungry. I see a man that has desire. I see a man.. that wants to be the best. But... there's something missing. I couldn't put my finger on it for the longest time. So I sat down and rewatched our two matches.
Over..
and over...
and over...
and over...
So much so that I could replay them move for move in my sleep. But then, it hit me. Like a glorious epiphany. I finally realized what was wrong. Which brings me to that fateful night that I caught you outside in the parking lot. Yeah, I know, it was a fucking cheap shot, but Chris trust me when I say.. it was needed.
See Christopher.. we've faced off in two epic matches. We tore the house down. Hell, Uncle Dave gave both of our matches 5 stars. But there's a problem.. both times, there was no winner. Now sure, I walked out with the Intercontinental title, but what's the use walking out with it when you didn't prove that you were better?
So that epiphany I had, right.. it was that the previous two times we faced off, there was too much respect. Oh yeah, every promo, every time we were in front of a microphone. (mocking) 'Oh, you're so great Christian! No, you're great Dorling! Oh I can't wait to face you Christian! Oh I can't wait to face you Dorling!'(/mocking) It was fucking sickening. But it was also the reason neither of us could get one up on the other.
Too much respect.
It's like we couldn't pull the trigger on the killshot. We didn't hate or dislike each other. We were just... content. Content with how things were. Content with wrestling a five-star match and letting the chips fall where they fall. Well, that doesn't get me what I need.
I've told you and the world, that I NEED this title; that I would do anything to keep it. Well, I NEED to beat you. And I will do anything to do so. So yeah, I beat your ass in a parking lot. Every chance I've gotten, I've beaten you up. Because I realize that I can only hold on for so long, playing your game.
Now it's time you play mine.
You attacking me a couple of weeks ago, was worth it, no matter how much pain I may have suffered. You gave me exactly what I wanted to see from you.
Anger.
Revenge.
I've seen it your promos. I've seen in your interviews. You're pissed, which means your head ain't where it should be, sunshine. You're gonna walk into Summer Madness more concerned with kicking my head off, then walking out Intercontinental champion. And when you do, you're gonna fuck up.. and I'ma be right there to capitalize; right there to drop you on your head so I can experience MY Crowning Glory as the greatest Intercontinental champion of all time.
Then once and for all, I'll be done with you. No more rematches. You go to the back of the line until you fluke your way into another shot against some champion who isn't me. That dark cloud that hangs over me will finally dissipate and the sun will shine again on Christian Connolly. And I can finally exhale as the world finally sees what they already know...
...that I'm better than you."