Post by Jessie Lee on Apr 29, 2022 22:46:39 GMT -5
I still can't believe it.
A tad over a year after moving across the world, I'm traveling across the United States as a professional wrestler; professional FIGHTER; and I wouldn't change a single thing. Well, maybe a few things but overall everything that I have been blessed to see and do is something that I wouldn't change for all the gold in the world. The places; the PEOPLE; have all been amazing and I think it's as telling as it is sad that those very people I've met in those places are more than willing to allow themselves to be something they just simply aren't.
Champion.
Contender.
Some strange grey area in between.
People will slather themselves with their surroundings in a pitiful attempt to make it seem like they belong when they know deep within their souls that they simply never will. Yet, they try; they try to walk with confidence that they have never once felt while wearing a laughably fragile mask of disappointment that isn't nearly as opaque as they think it to be. Like a bunch of directionless brainless bogans, they repeatedly cover themselves head to toe in the undiluted shit that the so-called "big names" squeezed out of their asses; telling them that it only normal if they want to reach their dream. Telling that it will make them successful.
What a bunch of horse shit.
I know it's horse shit.
THEY know it's horse shit.
Yet, they can't help themselves because it's their dream on the line; a dream they haven't even realized has been torn away from them by those that appointed themselves the rule makers in a game where the rules only serve to bolster the egos of those that make them. With broken smiles and plastic faces, each of these two parties continue to carry on this paper strong relationship of submissive and dominance; each perversely` satisfied with where their current lot in line lies.
The overarching complacency of it all makes me want to fucking gag.
That's why I'm never going to allow myself to become anything like THEM. I won't let them mold into their perfect little punching bag just they can pass petty insults and act like they're so superior that my existence is to be dictated by their most whimsical of whims. I won't let them control me with made-up rules that they create specifically to keep people before the waterline of the cesspool of irrelevancy and mediocrity; I won't let them drown me.
I'm not like the rest of the fresh-faced fuck knuckles around here that are just happy to be here.
I am NOT like them and refuse to be put into that position by those are terrified of what I bring to the table and how I bring it.
Their rules?
Don't give a fuck.
Their status quo?
I still don't give a fuck.
The tentative peace that they have as master and shiteaters?
Still ZERO fucks given.
I'm not here to be you; I'm here to be ME.
"OI!"
"Are ya finally fucking to get this clusterfuck tourney started Revolutionists or are am I gonna have to jumpstart your hearts cause ya already took a peek at the card an' passed out?"
"Well, do I gotta?"
"DOESN'T FUCKIN' MATTER!"
"We're getting this shit started here an' now and right now I have a whole host of fucking things to say and not a whole lot of ways of sayin' them. So let's get goin', yeah?"
"Good."
"First off; Fuck you Chelie. You sit on your ass pissin' an' complainin' that you were fuckin' robbed of the International strap; that it was God damn highway robbery. Well news flash, ya narcissistic cunt, it WASN'T. You were just a terrible fuckin' champion that couldn't defend their strap when it finally came to walk that fuckin' walk. Oh, you could talk that cheap ass babyface talk, but when it came down to keepin' your eye on the ball ya fucked it right up an' that leathery ol' windbag got one over on ya despite the advantage clearly bein' in your favor."
"You weren't robbed, Chelie; you were outclassed."
"I was."
"Last Saturday Night SIN, YOU robbed me of a victory that we ALL know should have been mine and this idiotic so-called rematch shouldn't even be an actual fuckin' thing. Fuck, it's not like you have any bloody fuckin' interest in the GLORY tourney or even know what's at God damn fucking stake."
"Becomin' the Legendary fuckin' Champion."
"But no; you'd much rather focus all your attention on pedaling excuses for all the reasons that you fuckin' suck. That's right, I fucking said it. Chelsea Skye, you're a trash tear wrestler an' an even lower-tier person. In fact, if you were any worse than people might actually think you really are an airheaded ankle-biter that doesn't grasp the basic fuckin' concepts of the squared circle. When ya get knocked down ya don't bounce back, you're just pulled back to your feet to be fuckin' knocked down again. Frame it however ya fuckin' want, but the fact is that you're nothing more than a body for any REAL contenders or champions to go right through."
"Which is EXACTLY what I'm going to do."
"While you're busy daydreamin' 'bout a match that'll never happen, I'm goin' to bust up your face till there isn't a single person alive that'd want to recognize you. Unlike last time there isn't going to be anywhere for ya to run, cause when I'm comin' through this Saturday it's with a God damn fuckin' purpose; to become the fuckin' Legendary Champion."
"Maybe you should try that; havin' a fuckin' purpose that is."
"Whether ya like or not, I'm beatin' your ass down to where it belongs and I AM movin' to that second round of the night where I get to trample another pathetic fuckwad 'fore squarin' off with my boi. Kick, scream, an' throw as many babyface tantrums as ya fuckin' want but at the end of the night, the undeniable fact is that you're leavin' it a fuckin' body bag after I REALLY get my fuckin' hands on ya."
I said it didn't I?
That I'm going to be here as ME and not someone like you. A pretender. A fraud. A person desperately attempting to mask themself as someone else simply because you can't stomach to look at yourself in the mirror anymore. Fuck, are you even capable of seeing yourself in a mirror or is there just a blank face that looks like something straight out of a D-rated horror movie looking back?
Hell, do you even know why you're here anymore or has it simply become the same song set on repeat?
Is it fame?
Fortune?
Some kind of cliche childhood dream that you're too embarrassed to openly admit to?
You haven't a clue, do you? You will SAY that you do, of course, but we all understand that the only person you're fooling is yourself. After all, what people SAY there isn't what ACTUALLY is. People, no matter how true and genuine they are, always have a tendency to lie or stretch the truth as a way to help protect themselves from the harsh reality that surrounds them; the OOGA BOOGA fire that keeps the caveman say from the things that go bump in the night.
Courage for the courageless maybe?
Meh.....
"Either way it's clear that you're grasping at straws and wandering without purpose, but I do; I have a purpose for being here and I will NEVER let anyone take that from me nor will I EVER let use it against me. Not without consequences truly severe. Cause, while you ACT like it's an important thing for you to step into that ring the reality is that it IS an important thing when I do. Not because I'm the one woman carrying the entirety of this company on her back or simply because I said so.
It's because I ACTUALLY have people counting on me.
Yeah, I know full well that I'm a world away but anyone with a real family connection understands exactly what it is that drives me to do the things I do; to drag myself through hell and back just to get that win. I fight FOR them; to entertain them and to HELP them in a world that forgot about them as quickly as it attempted to me.
I Fight.
I Kill.
I forget the name of whatever dipshit of a drongo that I had to take out and I move forward; always forward. For there isn't any going back from what I am MORE than prepared to do in order to keep mine safe. To keep them happy. To keep them wanting to fight a world so cold and cruel; to keep them fighting for their dreams.
In a world of twisted lies and asinine promises you know that I'm speaking the truth; you more than anybody.
So piece together your fractured realities and attempt to pull whatever personalities you might have together because I'm ready for combat and you can bet that I'm going to do whatever it takes to continue being HERE both as the central pillar of Revolution One and as THE example of what it takes to belong here.
"Jason Ryan or Vespertine?"
"Vespertine or Jason Ryan?"
"Jason Ryan?"
"Vespertine?"
"Which one of these two imbecilic fuck knuckles am I going to be shredding apart in the second round of the GLORY tourney after I've thoroughly reminded Chelie that she never had a clue what it meant to quote-unquote "bounce back"? WHich self-righteous narcissistic fuck am I going to humble by dropping them on their head with the single deadliest move in wrestling today? Hm? Which.......fuckin'.........one?"
"Honestly?"
"It doesn't fuckin' matter nor has it EVER fuckin' mattered. In both actions and demeanor, these two are so alike that it's nearly impossible to tell the bloody fuckin' difference. They're both spineless, indecisive meat bags that place more significance on things that don't even matter."
"Nobody gives a shit about your Elder Gods."
"Nobody cares about Martial Arts you know; it's kind of a part of every GOOD fighter's grind set, after all."
"Nobody gives a fuck if you're ripping off a movie franchise far more successful than you've ever been; cause what YOU'RE doin' sure ain't from the fuckin' myths."
"Death by Diva is the stupidest fuckin' catchphrase and I'm the woman that uses a pun for her bloody fuckin' finish; THAT should fuckin' tell ya something."
"Best part? It takes Kylie Moore to make BOTH of you insignificant fucks look even remotely fuckin' relevant. WIthout her neither one of you would be in this tourney nor would even have a fuckin' job. Why? Cause neither one of you has EVER done a single thing that's drawn anyone's attention without her and that just shows that you clearly don't have the drive or ambition to BE here in Revolution One; It shows that you need to have your handheld when crossin' a two-foot bike path."
"You're sad."
"You're pathetic."
"You're goin' to get a hard dose of what it actually fuckin' takes to WORK in order to be here. There won't be any whinin' to the BOss Lady when I've busted your fuckin' jaw with the wickedest Superwoman punch is delivered and there sure as shit isn't goin' to be any grand comeback after I've dropped ya on your thick fuckin's skulls to break those scrawny ass necks."
"Body bags?"
"Fuckin' bring 'em."
"Cause this isn't just a tourney to compete for the Legendary strap; not when you two douchebags step into the ring me. No. It's about fuckin' surviving and I can already feel the warmth of your blood covering my hands as I cave your skulls in."
"This is MY ring."
"This is MY company."
"This is MY fuckin' tourney win."
"This is MY moment where I show the entire fuckin' world that Jessie Lee is here and she isn't going to fuckin' ignored by the likes of shitty fuckin' pissant motherfuckers like the two of you. So an and get yourselves lookin' nice, because it's the LAST fuckin' thing you're goin' to do as I turn GLORY into grade A fuckin' GORY."
So here we are at the end of everything and I doubt you have been any serious attention to what I've been talking about. How could you? You're at the supposed top of the food chain here in Revolution One; even if I am the one that has done ALL the heavy lifting.
I'm not mad.
Just irritated.
Irritated that all it takes for you to be where I should is a win over some bloke that never should have been in that position, to begin with. Then again, maybe it's due to the obsession people have with whether or not holding a world strap is the be-all-end-all. This is pretty sad once you realize just how many so-called world champions there have been in this industry and just how many of them ACTUALLY deserved it.
"You deserved it though; you deserved it and took it from one that didn't.
However, we BOTH know that I also deserve to hold that strap. Hell, I might the ONE person in the ENTIRETY of Revo One that deserves to hold THAT strap. Yet, just because we deserve it doesn't mean we always get it; far from it. In fact, I am the perfect example of this as I have literally been in mid-card hell defending a strap that nobody seems to care about. Well, that or they're too bloody scared to challenge me for it. They'll run their mouths certainly, but they'll NEVER put themselves out on the line; not like us.
At least, that's what I would like to think but the fact is that you've never really put yourself out there. You've never had to buckle down, grit your teeth, and weather the bloody storm of disdain and malcontent. Oh, you think you have and you will tell everyone you meet that's the case. You will preach that you grew up on the hard streets, that you have people back home to send money to, and that you're the toughest son of a bitch on the planet because you survived the life or death mentality of those very streets you cling so desperately to as an identity.
Would you like a fucking cookie?
Now I'm not downplaying what you've been through; not by any means, but we both know full well that there's more than just THAT basic origin story running rampant through Revo One. Except we're not here to discuss the origins of Death Row members and you can bet that we're not going to delve into that.
We're going to fight.
We're going to fight and it's going to tear the arena fucking down and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do to stop us.
Do I want to be a Legendary champion?
Absolutely and it would be bloody LEEgendary.
However, sometimes there are just moments where you need to swallow your pride and this is one of those times. Not because I'm afraid of losing or of the overarching idea of failure. It's because both the fans of Revolution One and these clowns in the back need to understand that there are those that won't simply roll over and die just because they want to be the one holding either the Rising Star or Legendary straps.
We'll remind them.
Through blood, sweat, and unwavering fucking passion.
Now let's fucking go.
A tad over a year after moving across the world, I'm traveling across the United States as a professional wrestler; professional FIGHTER; and I wouldn't change a single thing. Well, maybe a few things but overall everything that I have been blessed to see and do is something that I wouldn't change for all the gold in the world. The places; the PEOPLE; have all been amazing and I think it's as telling as it is sad that those very people I've met in those places are more than willing to allow themselves to be something they just simply aren't.
Champion.
Contender.
Some strange grey area in between.
People will slather themselves with their surroundings in a pitiful attempt to make it seem like they belong when they know deep within their souls that they simply never will. Yet, they try; they try to walk with confidence that they have never once felt while wearing a laughably fragile mask of disappointment that isn't nearly as opaque as they think it to be. Like a bunch of directionless brainless bogans, they repeatedly cover themselves head to toe in the undiluted shit that the so-called "big names" squeezed out of their asses; telling them that it only normal if they want to reach their dream. Telling that it will make them successful.
What a bunch of horse shit.
I know it's horse shit.
THEY know it's horse shit.
Yet, they can't help themselves because it's their dream on the line; a dream they haven't even realized has been torn away from them by those that appointed themselves the rule makers in a game where the rules only serve to bolster the egos of those that make them. With broken smiles and plastic faces, each of these two parties continue to carry on this paper strong relationship of submissive and dominance; each perversely` satisfied with where their current lot in line lies.
The overarching complacency of it all makes me want to fucking gag.
That's why I'm never going to allow myself to become anything like THEM. I won't let them mold into their perfect little punching bag just they can pass petty insults and act like they're so superior that my existence is to be dictated by their most whimsical of whims. I won't let them control me with made-up rules that they create specifically to keep people before the waterline of the cesspool of irrelevancy and mediocrity; I won't let them drown me.
I'm not like the rest of the fresh-faced fuck knuckles around here that are just happy to be here.
I am NOT like them and refuse to be put into that position by those are terrified of what I bring to the table and how I bring it.
Their rules?
Don't give a fuck.
Their status quo?
I still don't give a fuck.
The tentative peace that they have as master and shiteaters?
Still ZERO fucks given.
I'm not here to be you; I'm here to be ME.
"OI!"
"Are ya finally fucking to get this clusterfuck tourney started Revolutionists or are am I gonna have to jumpstart your hearts cause ya already took a peek at the card an' passed out?"
"Well, do I gotta?"
"DOESN'T FUCKIN' MATTER!"
"We're getting this shit started here an' now and right now I have a whole host of fucking things to say and not a whole lot of ways of sayin' them. So let's get goin', yeah?"
"Good."
"First off; Fuck you Chelie. You sit on your ass pissin' an' complainin' that you were fuckin' robbed of the International strap; that it was God damn highway robbery. Well news flash, ya narcissistic cunt, it WASN'T. You were just a terrible fuckin' champion that couldn't defend their strap when it finally came to walk that fuckin' walk. Oh, you could talk that cheap ass babyface talk, but when it came down to keepin' your eye on the ball ya fucked it right up an' that leathery ol' windbag got one over on ya despite the advantage clearly bein' in your favor."
"You weren't robbed, Chelie; you were outclassed."
"I was."
"Last Saturday Night SIN, YOU robbed me of a victory that we ALL know should have been mine and this idiotic so-called rematch shouldn't even be an actual fuckin' thing. Fuck, it's not like you have any bloody fuckin' interest in the GLORY tourney or even know what's at God damn fucking stake."
"Becomin' the Legendary fuckin' Champion."
"But no; you'd much rather focus all your attention on pedaling excuses for all the reasons that you fuckin' suck. That's right, I fucking said it. Chelsea Skye, you're a trash tear wrestler an' an even lower-tier person. In fact, if you were any worse than people might actually think you really are an airheaded ankle-biter that doesn't grasp the basic fuckin' concepts of the squared circle. When ya get knocked down ya don't bounce back, you're just pulled back to your feet to be fuckin' knocked down again. Frame it however ya fuckin' want, but the fact is that you're nothing more than a body for any REAL contenders or champions to go right through."
"Which is EXACTLY what I'm going to do."
"While you're busy daydreamin' 'bout a match that'll never happen, I'm goin' to bust up your face till there isn't a single person alive that'd want to recognize you. Unlike last time there isn't going to be anywhere for ya to run, cause when I'm comin' through this Saturday it's with a God damn fuckin' purpose; to become the fuckin' Legendary Champion."
"Maybe you should try that; havin' a fuckin' purpose that is."
"Whether ya like or not, I'm beatin' your ass down to where it belongs and I AM movin' to that second round of the night where I get to trample another pathetic fuckwad 'fore squarin' off with my boi. Kick, scream, an' throw as many babyface tantrums as ya fuckin' want but at the end of the night, the undeniable fact is that you're leavin' it a fuckin' body bag after I REALLY get my fuckin' hands on ya."
I said it didn't I?
That I'm going to be here as ME and not someone like you. A pretender. A fraud. A person desperately attempting to mask themself as someone else simply because you can't stomach to look at yourself in the mirror anymore. Fuck, are you even capable of seeing yourself in a mirror or is there just a blank face that looks like something straight out of a D-rated horror movie looking back?
Hell, do you even know why you're here anymore or has it simply become the same song set on repeat?
Is it fame?
Fortune?
Some kind of cliche childhood dream that you're too embarrassed to openly admit to?
You haven't a clue, do you? You will SAY that you do, of course, but we all understand that the only person you're fooling is yourself. After all, what people SAY there isn't what ACTUALLY is. People, no matter how true and genuine they are, always have a tendency to lie or stretch the truth as a way to help protect themselves from the harsh reality that surrounds them; the OOGA BOOGA fire that keeps the caveman say from the things that go bump in the night.
Courage for the courageless maybe?
Meh.....
"Either way it's clear that you're grasping at straws and wandering without purpose, but I do; I have a purpose for being here and I will NEVER let anyone take that from me nor will I EVER let use it against me. Not without consequences truly severe. Cause, while you ACT like it's an important thing for you to step into that ring the reality is that it IS an important thing when I do. Not because I'm the one woman carrying the entirety of this company on her back or simply because I said so.
It's because I ACTUALLY have people counting on me.
Yeah, I know full well that I'm a world away but anyone with a real family connection understands exactly what it is that drives me to do the things I do; to drag myself through hell and back just to get that win. I fight FOR them; to entertain them and to HELP them in a world that forgot about them as quickly as it attempted to me.
I Fight.
I Kill.
I forget the name of whatever dipshit of a drongo that I had to take out and I move forward; always forward. For there isn't any going back from what I am MORE than prepared to do in order to keep mine safe. To keep them happy. To keep them wanting to fight a world so cold and cruel; to keep them fighting for their dreams.
In a world of twisted lies and asinine promises you know that I'm speaking the truth; you more than anybody.
So piece together your fractured realities and attempt to pull whatever personalities you might have together because I'm ready for combat and you can bet that I'm going to do whatever it takes to continue being HERE both as the central pillar of Revolution One and as THE example of what it takes to belong here.
"Jason Ryan or Vespertine?"
"Vespertine or Jason Ryan?"
"Jason Ryan?"
"Vespertine?"
"Which one of these two imbecilic fuck knuckles am I going to be shredding apart in the second round of the GLORY tourney after I've thoroughly reminded Chelie that she never had a clue what it meant to quote-unquote "bounce back"? WHich self-righteous narcissistic fuck am I going to humble by dropping them on their head with the single deadliest move in wrestling today? Hm? Which.......fuckin'.........one?"
"Honestly?"
"It doesn't fuckin' matter nor has it EVER fuckin' mattered. In both actions and demeanor, these two are so alike that it's nearly impossible to tell the bloody fuckin' difference. They're both spineless, indecisive meat bags that place more significance on things that don't even matter."
"Nobody gives a shit about your Elder Gods."
"Nobody cares about Martial Arts you know; it's kind of a part of every GOOD fighter's grind set, after all."
"Nobody gives a fuck if you're ripping off a movie franchise far more successful than you've ever been; cause what YOU'RE doin' sure ain't from the fuckin' myths."
"Death by Diva is the stupidest fuckin' catchphrase and I'm the woman that uses a pun for her bloody fuckin' finish; THAT should fuckin' tell ya something."
"Best part? It takes Kylie Moore to make BOTH of you insignificant fucks look even remotely fuckin' relevant. WIthout her neither one of you would be in this tourney nor would even have a fuckin' job. Why? Cause neither one of you has EVER done a single thing that's drawn anyone's attention without her and that just shows that you clearly don't have the drive or ambition to BE here in Revolution One; It shows that you need to have your handheld when crossin' a two-foot bike path."
"You're sad."
"You're pathetic."
"You're goin' to get a hard dose of what it actually fuckin' takes to WORK in order to be here. There won't be any whinin' to the BOss Lady when I've busted your fuckin' jaw with the wickedest Superwoman punch is delivered and there sure as shit isn't goin' to be any grand comeback after I've dropped ya on your thick fuckin's skulls to break those scrawny ass necks."
"Body bags?"
"Fuckin' bring 'em."
"Cause this isn't just a tourney to compete for the Legendary strap; not when you two douchebags step into the ring me. No. It's about fuckin' surviving and I can already feel the warmth of your blood covering my hands as I cave your skulls in."
"This is MY ring."
"This is MY company."
"This is MY fuckin' tourney win."
"This is MY moment where I show the entire fuckin' world that Jessie Lee is here and she isn't going to fuckin' ignored by the likes of shitty fuckin' pissant motherfuckers like the two of you. So an and get yourselves lookin' nice, because it's the LAST fuckin' thing you're goin' to do as I turn GLORY into grade A fuckin' GORY."
So here we are at the end of everything and I doubt you have been any serious attention to what I've been talking about. How could you? You're at the supposed top of the food chain here in Revolution One; even if I am the one that has done ALL the heavy lifting.
I'm not mad.
Just irritated.
Irritated that all it takes for you to be where I should is a win over some bloke that never should have been in that position, to begin with. Then again, maybe it's due to the obsession people have with whether or not holding a world strap is the be-all-end-all. This is pretty sad once you realize just how many so-called world champions there have been in this industry and just how many of them ACTUALLY deserved it.
"You deserved it though; you deserved it and took it from one that didn't.
However, we BOTH know that I also deserve to hold that strap. Hell, I might the ONE person in the ENTIRETY of Revo One that deserves to hold THAT strap. Yet, just because we deserve it doesn't mean we always get it; far from it. In fact, I am the perfect example of this as I have literally been in mid-card hell defending a strap that nobody seems to care about. Well, that or they're too bloody scared to challenge me for it. They'll run their mouths certainly, but they'll NEVER put themselves out on the line; not like us.
At least, that's what I would like to think but the fact is that you've never really put yourself out there. You've never had to buckle down, grit your teeth, and weather the bloody storm of disdain and malcontent. Oh, you think you have and you will tell everyone you meet that's the case. You will preach that you grew up on the hard streets, that you have people back home to send money to, and that you're the toughest son of a bitch on the planet because you survived the life or death mentality of those very streets you cling so desperately to as an identity.
Would you like a fucking cookie?
Now I'm not downplaying what you've been through; not by any means, but we both know full well that there's more than just THAT basic origin story running rampant through Revo One. Except we're not here to discuss the origins of Death Row members and you can bet that we're not going to delve into that.
We're going to fight.
We're going to fight and it's going to tear the arena fucking down and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do to stop us.
Do I want to be a Legendary champion?
Absolutely and it would be bloody LEEgendary.
However, sometimes there are just moments where you need to swallow your pride and this is one of those times. Not because I'm afraid of losing or of the overarching idea of failure. It's because both the fans of Revolution One and these clowns in the back need to understand that there are those that won't simply roll over and die just because they want to be the one holding either the Rising Star or Legendary straps.
We'll remind them.
Through blood, sweat, and unwavering fucking passion.
Now let's fucking go.
