Post by zaigon on Feb 22, 2021 23:32:47 GMT -5
Well aren't you just adorable.
Waxing poetic on the values of love, ending your little speech on a pun. It was an unexpected surprise that the Devil Himself would have such strong thoughts about these things. That you of all people would understand me and mine, that you'd understand the situation.
It appears I was mistaken. Which is a disappointment.
See you're right Damon, I don't know about love. I watched my father, a rich and powerful man, die in front of me in a hospital bed when I was a teenager. I watched my mother, the woman who was supposed to love me unconditionally, only care about me because my father was wise enough to leave me the family fortune and not her. As soon as the money was off the table, she became another socialite whore trying to suck some man's bank account numbers through his tiny dick. My sister went off to college, and the last correspondence from her was an invitation for a wedding that I didn't attend.
You think that because I don't have love in my life, that I'm vulnerable. That the power of love is some comforting blanket, some superhero ability that will lift you to victory. Like this is some sort of anime Harry Potter bullshit. You've been watching too many movies with that husband of yours Damon, because that's not reality. That's a false narrative sold to you by Hollywood, Hallmark, and other large group of fools who are too scared to be alone and accept the facts of life.
Love is the difference, because you said it yourself. Without Jamie, you never return to APW after losing to such a pile of garbage like Jason Ryan Without him, you don't become World Champion again. This is all true.
Which also means this is true: What happens at Liberty or Death is also Jamie's fault.
A fact that actually makes me really happy. You know why?
See already I knew that whatever it took to pull that title down from the rafters I would do. There's nothing stopping me, no limits to what it will take to make that happen. But in case there was even a fraction of doubt in my mind, it's now gone. You've removed it, giving me the act with total and brutal impunity. Because it's no longer my fault what happens to you. Every ounce of pain I inflict on you, every drop of blood I drain out of that pretty blonde head of yours is not on my hands. It's on your husband's. He didn't have the good sense to protect you by saying stay away, he didn't do the humane thing by keeping you in his arms where you could be safe.
Instead, he sent you to me.
And I'm the one that's supposed to fear you?
No. That's not how this works at all.
But you have a talent for misunderstanding how things work, which means it's a good thing that I can explain it to you now and then beat that understanding into your bones later. Make no mistake about my partnership with Dr. Milgram. He's not here to tell me things I want to hear, to be there with me through thick and thin. What he did do though is save me. He brought me new life.
Let's talk about nightmares, or however you want to spell it like you're some love struck seventh grader holding hands for the first time. My nightmare was Christmas morning. A day most people celebrate, a day of joy and mirth. Me? I was laying in bed hearing nothing but screaming inside my skull. I hadn't been to sleep in 48 hours, and I felt like I was going insane. When the doctors arrived in my bedroom, it took an amount of drugs that would make Michael Jackson blush to knock me out. Even then, it didn't last long. I was hallucinating, to the point where I wasn't sure what was real anymore. More drugs, stronger drugs, and finally I was able to rest.
I was living a nightmare Damon. Every waking moment was agony, and for weeks there was no way out. Only when that needle hit my neck did I find any sort of relief. I got a second chance, and a power boost to go with it. To get there though I had to stare fear and misery in the face every second of every day, and I won. I survived long enough to find salvation, and now that I've made it out I'll never go back.
That Damon, is my nightmare. Not some pretty boy punk who runs around talking like a Disney character, who built and rebuilt his legacy beating people that couldn't last five minutes in the ring with me. YOU do not scare me because YOU are nothing to be scared of. You're just a man, and there is no man that can inspire fear in me ever again after the things I saw right in front of my eyes all those days and weeks. The figures that wanted me to take a knife to my throat, a razor to my wrist, a gun to my head just to end the misery. They would whisper in my ear that life was suffering, then yell at me to do it. All of it was inside my head, but that doesn't mean it wasn't real.
This is why I don't fear you. There is nothing you can say or do that can replicate that Hell in which I lived before Dr. Milgram found me. It's literally not possible. You are not my worst anything, especially my worst nightmare.
You don't get to control my reality. You don't get to determine the course of my life. That's power you think you have, but that's because you're so used to getting your way. You think you're the hero of this story, that you can swoop in and defeat the evil bad man. That you're the shining light.
Another lie you've sold.
See you lost fair and square, and because of that you disappeared. Not out of grace, but out of shame. Because you couldn't live with that, because I guess you were such a mopey bitch at your house that your spouse told you to come back. Not because anyone wanted you back, not because there was some need for it, but because YOU needed that ego boost. It was all about YOU. This company was trying to create anew, with new talent and new names like Andrew Barne and yes even America Jackson, but that didn't fit your narrative. Instead you came back and cut that off at the knees.
This isn't some redemption project, this is a vanity run. It wasn't even enough that you took the World Title as yours, you had to take the tag titles too. I guess the only reason you shared those was because of the rules. Even then, you sat there overshadowing others to feed that need for validation. You're craving people to tell you that you're still that guy, because you couldn't live any other way. You're not a hero, you're a glutton for attention. You're a cancer, growing and infecting everything around you because you know no other way. Rapid expansion that will eventually kill what you touch.
I will end it. I see you for the bully you are, for the selfish false idol that you've always been. Just like I was healed, I will heal APW. I will give it a champion it can be proud of, a champion of honest intentions and honest action. I'm not trying to hide anything Damon, quite the opposite. I've never been more wide open, never been more transparent about what or who I am. I'm not the hero on the white horse, the white knight here to save. I'm liberating that title from you because I want it, because everything in my body needs it. APW will be better for it once I do though, because at least it'll be in the hands of the Devil they know.
That's the biggest thing that sets us apart though. Not the love, not the reasons we both came back to this place. One of us knows what we are, and the other wants is still lying to himself. The way you talk, the way you act you so desperately want people to see you as the hero. You want their respect as a leader, as a legend, all the accolades that you can shove down into your soul so you can feel better about yourself. You cast yourself in false darkness not because of what you are, but because you're too scared to admit what you want to be.
Their hero.
You want those people to cheer you so bad, but you're too god damn scared to admit it. Partially because you know as soon as a real adversary comes along, that narrative will crumple. You're Oz behind the curtain, Mysterio with his projectors, nothing but a fraud who has done a good job of convincing everyone you're that dude. You know it, I know it, and in Hiroshima I'll show everyone. You're a fraud, a charlatan, and it all comes crashing down soon.
When you walk that aisle at Liberty or Death one last time as champion, take your time. Look all around the crowd, because that will be the last time you see them and they you as the man you are before that bell rings. That's because when you look inside the ring, you'll see your destroyer.
You'll see your conqueror.
You'll see your superior.
That is not delusion. That is not some sort of fantasy. That is a fact, one that will be underwritten with your pain and suffering. It will be certified when my hands grab your title at the top of that ladder. That bell will ring, and as I sit with my title back around my waist I'll look down at you the same way everyone else will be.
As the loser that you are.
And the man that you were.
Waxing poetic on the values of love, ending your little speech on a pun. It was an unexpected surprise that the Devil Himself would have such strong thoughts about these things. That you of all people would understand me and mine, that you'd understand the situation.
It appears I was mistaken. Which is a disappointment.
See you're right Damon, I don't know about love. I watched my father, a rich and powerful man, die in front of me in a hospital bed when I was a teenager. I watched my mother, the woman who was supposed to love me unconditionally, only care about me because my father was wise enough to leave me the family fortune and not her. As soon as the money was off the table, she became another socialite whore trying to suck some man's bank account numbers through his tiny dick. My sister went off to college, and the last correspondence from her was an invitation for a wedding that I didn't attend.
You think that because I don't have love in my life, that I'm vulnerable. That the power of love is some comforting blanket, some superhero ability that will lift you to victory. Like this is some sort of anime Harry Potter bullshit. You've been watching too many movies with that husband of yours Damon, because that's not reality. That's a false narrative sold to you by Hollywood, Hallmark, and other large group of fools who are too scared to be alone and accept the facts of life.
Love is the difference, because you said it yourself. Without Jamie, you never return to APW after losing to such a pile of garbage like Jason Ryan Without him, you don't become World Champion again. This is all true.
Which also means this is true: What happens at Liberty or Death is also Jamie's fault.
A fact that actually makes me really happy. You know why?
See already I knew that whatever it took to pull that title down from the rafters I would do. There's nothing stopping me, no limits to what it will take to make that happen. But in case there was even a fraction of doubt in my mind, it's now gone. You've removed it, giving me the act with total and brutal impunity. Because it's no longer my fault what happens to you. Every ounce of pain I inflict on you, every drop of blood I drain out of that pretty blonde head of yours is not on my hands. It's on your husband's. He didn't have the good sense to protect you by saying stay away, he didn't do the humane thing by keeping you in his arms where you could be safe.
Instead, he sent you to me.
And I'm the one that's supposed to fear you?
No. That's not how this works at all.
But you have a talent for misunderstanding how things work, which means it's a good thing that I can explain it to you now and then beat that understanding into your bones later. Make no mistake about my partnership with Dr. Milgram. He's not here to tell me things I want to hear, to be there with me through thick and thin. What he did do though is save me. He brought me new life.
Let's talk about nightmares, or however you want to spell it like you're some love struck seventh grader holding hands for the first time. My nightmare was Christmas morning. A day most people celebrate, a day of joy and mirth. Me? I was laying in bed hearing nothing but screaming inside my skull. I hadn't been to sleep in 48 hours, and I felt like I was going insane. When the doctors arrived in my bedroom, it took an amount of drugs that would make Michael Jackson blush to knock me out. Even then, it didn't last long. I was hallucinating, to the point where I wasn't sure what was real anymore. More drugs, stronger drugs, and finally I was able to rest.
I was living a nightmare Damon. Every waking moment was agony, and for weeks there was no way out. Only when that needle hit my neck did I find any sort of relief. I got a second chance, and a power boost to go with it. To get there though I had to stare fear and misery in the face every second of every day, and I won. I survived long enough to find salvation, and now that I've made it out I'll never go back.
That Damon, is my nightmare. Not some pretty boy punk who runs around talking like a Disney character, who built and rebuilt his legacy beating people that couldn't last five minutes in the ring with me. YOU do not scare me because YOU are nothing to be scared of. You're just a man, and there is no man that can inspire fear in me ever again after the things I saw right in front of my eyes all those days and weeks. The figures that wanted me to take a knife to my throat, a razor to my wrist, a gun to my head just to end the misery. They would whisper in my ear that life was suffering, then yell at me to do it. All of it was inside my head, but that doesn't mean it wasn't real.
This is why I don't fear you. There is nothing you can say or do that can replicate that Hell in which I lived before Dr. Milgram found me. It's literally not possible. You are not my worst anything, especially my worst nightmare.
You don't get to control my reality. You don't get to determine the course of my life. That's power you think you have, but that's because you're so used to getting your way. You think you're the hero of this story, that you can swoop in and defeat the evil bad man. That you're the shining light.
Another lie you've sold.
See you lost fair and square, and because of that you disappeared. Not out of grace, but out of shame. Because you couldn't live with that, because I guess you were such a mopey bitch at your house that your spouse told you to come back. Not because anyone wanted you back, not because there was some need for it, but because YOU needed that ego boost. It was all about YOU. This company was trying to create anew, with new talent and new names like Andrew Barne and yes even America Jackson, but that didn't fit your narrative. Instead you came back and cut that off at the knees.
This isn't some redemption project, this is a vanity run. It wasn't even enough that you took the World Title as yours, you had to take the tag titles too. I guess the only reason you shared those was because of the rules. Even then, you sat there overshadowing others to feed that need for validation. You're craving people to tell you that you're still that guy, because you couldn't live any other way. You're not a hero, you're a glutton for attention. You're a cancer, growing and infecting everything around you because you know no other way. Rapid expansion that will eventually kill what you touch.
I will end it. I see you for the bully you are, for the selfish false idol that you've always been. Just like I was healed, I will heal APW. I will give it a champion it can be proud of, a champion of honest intentions and honest action. I'm not trying to hide anything Damon, quite the opposite. I've never been more wide open, never been more transparent about what or who I am. I'm not the hero on the white horse, the white knight here to save. I'm liberating that title from you because I want it, because everything in my body needs it. APW will be better for it once I do though, because at least it'll be in the hands of the Devil they know.
That's the biggest thing that sets us apart though. Not the love, not the reasons we both came back to this place. One of us knows what we are, and the other wants is still lying to himself. The way you talk, the way you act you so desperately want people to see you as the hero. You want their respect as a leader, as a legend, all the accolades that you can shove down into your soul so you can feel better about yourself. You cast yourself in false darkness not because of what you are, but because you're too scared to admit what you want to be.
Their hero.
You want those people to cheer you so bad, but you're too god damn scared to admit it. Partially because you know as soon as a real adversary comes along, that narrative will crumple. You're Oz behind the curtain, Mysterio with his projectors, nothing but a fraud who has done a good job of convincing everyone you're that dude. You know it, I know it, and in Hiroshima I'll show everyone. You're a fraud, a charlatan, and it all comes crashing down soon.
When you walk that aisle at Liberty or Death one last time as champion, take your time. Look all around the crowd, because that will be the last time you see them and they you as the man you are before that bell rings. That's because when you look inside the ring, you'll see your destroyer.
You'll see your conqueror.
You'll see your superior.
That is not delusion. That is not some sort of fantasy. That is a fact, one that will be underwritten with your pain and suffering. It will be certified when my hands grab your title at the top of that ladder. That bell will ring, and as I sit with my title back around my waist I'll look down at you the same way everyone else will be.
As the loser that you are.
And the man that you were.
