Post by jonnycorrigan on Dec 2, 2008 11:55:54 GMT -5
I’ve been here two months and twenty-one long days.
And since then I’ve played the game day by day, unbeknownst to the encounters it would entail.
I arose from the roots of the ground with scars lining my conscience, but now I’m a tree standing tall with scars lodged in my exterior.
But I’m more prideful now then I’ve ever been.
That isn’t to say that I don’t fucking hate this place.
Because I do.
I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand all the violence waiting deviously around every corner to take a few more drops of blood and a few more drops of dignity.
I can’t stand all of them. All of those toolbox utensils who gawk at themselves half-naked in the mirror and pride themselves in all the pain they’ve caused.
They don’t feel an ounce of regret or shame. But I do. And it hurts me like a gallon of iodine on an open wound.
But at least here I belong somewhere.
At least here I am not useless garbage rolling around, just waiting to be thrown away.
Here I am not just a wrestler. I’m a human being.
But there are some people that don’t see it that way.
There are some people whose compassion is entirely non-existent.
People who get countless title shots and fail to capitalize on them.
People who listen to bad rap and make it their theme songs because they think its cool but really they aren’t any better then the middle schoolers in Granite Falls trying meth or acid or coke for the very first time.
People who watch giant metal exteriors crash atop someone and try to cover up their utter ignorance with artificial shock and worry.
And people that make it happen.
People like Blake Worship.
People like Freakula.
People like Boxer.
People like the fucking Regulators.
Corporate rats like Caius Turner and Scotty Raven.
They are all the scum of this company as much as they refuse to realize it or even consider it.
And I fucking hate them all.
And so now that I’ve been here as long as I have I can feel the vendetta building inside me and pushing at the base of my throat, begging to be let loose, begging to be unleashed from its cage.
And I think I might just do that.
Because I won’t stop until all of them have felt the revenge pass through one temple and out the other.
Until they’ve all felt it like a knife through tender skin.
Until they’ve all felt this fucking pain that’s eaten away at me for two months and twenty-one days.
And since then I’ve played the game day by day, unbeknownst to the encounters it would entail.
I arose from the roots of the ground with scars lining my conscience, but now I’m a tree standing tall with scars lodged in my exterior.
But I’m more prideful now then I’ve ever been.
That isn’t to say that I don’t fucking hate this place.
Because I do.
I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand all the violence waiting deviously around every corner to take a few more drops of blood and a few more drops of dignity.
I can’t stand all of them. All of those toolbox utensils who gawk at themselves half-naked in the mirror and pride themselves in all the pain they’ve caused.
They don’t feel an ounce of regret or shame. But I do. And it hurts me like a gallon of iodine on an open wound.
But at least here I belong somewhere.
At least here I am not useless garbage rolling around, just waiting to be thrown away.
Here I am not just a wrestler. I’m a human being.
But there are some people that don’t see it that way.
There are some people whose compassion is entirely non-existent.
People who get countless title shots and fail to capitalize on them.
People who listen to bad rap and make it their theme songs because they think its cool but really they aren’t any better then the middle schoolers in Granite Falls trying meth or acid or coke for the very first time.
People who watch giant metal exteriors crash atop someone and try to cover up their utter ignorance with artificial shock and worry.
And people that make it happen.
People like Blake Worship.
People like Freakula.
People like Boxer.
People like the fucking Regulators.
Corporate rats like Caius Turner and Scotty Raven.
They are all the scum of this company as much as they refuse to realize it or even consider it.
And I fucking hate them all.
And so now that I’ve been here as long as I have I can feel the vendetta building inside me and pushing at the base of my throat, begging to be let loose, begging to be unleashed from its cage.
And I think I might just do that.
Because I won’t stop until all of them have felt the revenge pass through one temple and out the other.
Until they’ve all felt it like a knife through tender skin.
Until they’ve all felt this fucking pain that’s eaten away at me for two months and twenty-one days.
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