Post by logan on Jan 29, 2009 7:59:15 GMT -5
I began to ask myself a question that dawned on me during late 2007, that question being, what's the real meaning of this? How long can we pride ourselves in wearing tights and rubbing skin with other men? Sure, it's entertainment, maybe not as popular as it used to be, but it has a great connubiality nonetheless. So, here I am, still a prisoner to a wrestling promotion that caught my eye nearly a decade ago. A pointless life sentence constantly refilled with hot cups of effort. How do some ever manage to escape.. ?
It's very comparable to a drug, really. I have experimented a bit with substances, they do try to grasp you with a dangerous addictive approach, but I never sought out to be the junkie type. On the other hand, this federation, WCF (my internet drug), has gotten the very best of me. Over a year ago I got away from the business all together, hid myself in the dark, kept a real low key profile. I assumed I had beaten the nasty addiction and was free from WCF's death grip. I was wrong.
Things are completely different now, though. No longer am I mentally fueled to win, no, I've changed. I'd like to shrug my shoulders and say it's just about the money but a that'd be an embarrassing lie. Being in this places atmosphere is intoxicating to the point that no matter how hard you try to look away something will stop you. Or just when you think you've had enough tap your boots together and something else you never seen coming will attract another hopeful glint in your eye. It's inspiring, depressing, even lesser reasons is always enough to keep you trucking on.
W.. C.. F..
If our relationship was viewed as husband and wife, there would be three divorces, a mentally challenged kid up for adoption, a degrading poor excuse for a wife who takes pride in how talented she has become at covering up bruises with make up, and an overweight husband.. ready to serve a term in prison, or waiting for his wife to finally poison his last dinner. It's a very despicable yet amusing love hate relationship. Fun to watch, horribly tired sick of living.
I can't say it's been all bad, though. This place has brought me my fair share of smiles and more than likely will continue to for years to come unless of course this hotdog habit stays true to heart. If so, I'll be remembered as a very talented wrestler, one with over a dozen championship wins, memorable matches, and later became overweight and suffered a heart attack. Isn't that the generic story for most of the greats?
It's very comparable to a drug, really. I have experimented a bit with substances, they do try to grasp you with a dangerous addictive approach, but I never sought out to be the junkie type. On the other hand, this federation, WCF (my internet drug), has gotten the very best of me. Over a year ago I got away from the business all together, hid myself in the dark, kept a real low key profile. I assumed I had beaten the nasty addiction and was free from WCF's death grip. I was wrong.
Things are completely different now, though. No longer am I mentally fueled to win, no, I've changed. I'd like to shrug my shoulders and say it's just about the money but a that'd be an embarrassing lie. Being in this places atmosphere is intoxicating to the point that no matter how hard you try to look away something will stop you. Or just when you think you've had enough tap your boots together and something else you never seen coming will attract another hopeful glint in your eye. It's inspiring, depressing, even lesser reasons is always enough to keep you trucking on.
W.. C.. F..
If our relationship was viewed as husband and wife, there would be three divorces, a mentally challenged kid up for adoption, a degrading poor excuse for a wife who takes pride in how talented she has become at covering up bruises with make up, and an overweight husband.. ready to serve a term in prison, or waiting for his wife to finally poison his last dinner. It's a very despicable yet amusing love hate relationship. Fun to watch, horribly tired sick of living.
I can't say it's been all bad, though. This place has brought me my fair share of smiles and more than likely will continue to for years to come unless of course this hotdog habit stays true to heart. If so, I'll be remembered as a very talented wrestler, one with over a dozen championship wins, memorable matches, and later became overweight and suffered a heart attack. Isn't that the generic story for most of the greats?
