Post by Amelia Hearts on Jan 11, 2021 19:48:03 GMT -5
Dear Harry,
Okay, you’re gonna have to forgive me here, Har, cause I’m gonna get a bit tropey here. But this has been on my mind for a while and this is the best way I can explain it.
You ever feel stuck, Harry? Okay, I know you don’t. You’re a book. Unless having to listen to me bitch week after week gets to you, which I could understand. But get off my back, let me get on with it. Damn you’re naggy.
Anyways, it’s a pretty common feeling for me. I’m just walking along, minding my own business. Then I get stuck. Instead of being smart and freeing myself, I make things worse and I start to sink.
That pretty much sums up what happens to me when it comes to making allies in this business. I tell everyone I don’t need them. I act like I don’t need them. Then I wonder why nobody bothers to hang out with me or even talk to me. Hell, the only reason Portia’s on my side is that she got probably the worst luck in the Lethal Lottery drawing.
I start to struggle, I try to fix the situation myself despite clearly being in over my head. I can call for help, I should call for help, but I don’t. I stubbornly try to do things myself. But that doesn’t do anything but pull me deeper in.
Eventually, I get in so deep that I literally cannot escape without help but still, I try to go at it alone. I reach out but there’s nothing I can grab.
Oh, and the best part? People try to help. You get people like Portia who come along and try to give me a hand, but I turn them away in my stubborn act of trying to do everything myself.
I don’t know why I do it. I’m aware that I’m going to go under if I don’t reach out and take her hand, let her help me out. But I just can’t do it. I’d rather wallow in my own self-pity than lean on another.
Maybe it’s because as a kid, everyone I trusted and relied on either abused or abandoned me. Maybe because the last person who relied on me ended up dead because I couldn’t protect her. I don’t fuckin know.
And now Portia has the enviable task of being the one to drag my ass out of this pit and has to do her best to make sure I don’t wind up bogging both of us down
My point is, I want this team to work so fuckin bad. But I just know I’m going to screw it up somehow. I always screw it up. All my friends from high school? Drove them away. At least three band members? Gone.
I will say, it’s a good defense mechanism against creepy dudes hitting on me. But the bad far outweighs the good…
I guess I just got this stupid anxiety about people trusting me and me trusting them. It’s why I don’t have a boyfriend, why I don’t have friends (aside from you, of course, Harry. You’re a real one), and why I don’t normally have a tag partner. That’s why having to team with Portia is fucking terrifying to me. Not because she’s a bad partner, the exact opposite, in fact. I just don’t want to fuckin let her down. I don’t want to be the reason her momentum was halted. I don’t want to cost her the championships because of my own inadequacy...
But hey, part of life is facing your fears, right? Kinda seems like my whole life has been a fucking horror show but gotta roll with the punches. I’m going to win those titles with Portia even if it kills me.
Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth? After all the shit I’ve been through in my life I die because of being in a fuckin tag team.
You think that’s even possible? Guess we’ll find out. But until then, I’d better go. I suppose I should get into contact with my partner, eh? Hah. Wish me luck on the whole “don’t fuck it up for the both of us” thing.
Thanks, Harry. Thanks for listening. You’re real good at it. I’ll talk to you later, pal.
Signed,
AH.
Okay, you’re gonna have to forgive me here, Har, cause I’m gonna get a bit tropey here. But this has been on my mind for a while and this is the best way I can explain it.
You ever feel stuck, Harry? Okay, I know you don’t. You’re a book. Unless having to listen to me bitch week after week gets to you, which I could understand. But get off my back, let me get on with it. Damn you’re naggy.
Anyways, it’s a pretty common feeling for me. I’m just walking along, minding my own business. Then I get stuck. Instead of being smart and freeing myself, I make things worse and I start to sink.
That pretty much sums up what happens to me when it comes to making allies in this business. I tell everyone I don’t need them. I act like I don’t need them. Then I wonder why nobody bothers to hang out with me or even talk to me. Hell, the only reason Portia’s on my side is that she got probably the worst luck in the Lethal Lottery drawing.
I start to struggle, I try to fix the situation myself despite clearly being in over my head. I can call for help, I should call for help, but I don’t. I stubbornly try to do things myself. But that doesn’t do anything but pull me deeper in.
Eventually, I get in so deep that I literally cannot escape without help but still, I try to go at it alone. I reach out but there’s nothing I can grab.
Oh, and the best part? People try to help. You get people like Portia who come along and try to give me a hand, but I turn them away in my stubborn act of trying to do everything myself.
I don’t know why I do it. I’m aware that I’m going to go under if I don’t reach out and take her hand, let her help me out. But I just can’t do it. I’d rather wallow in my own self-pity than lean on another.
Maybe it’s because as a kid, everyone I trusted and relied on either abused or abandoned me. Maybe because the last person who relied on me ended up dead because I couldn’t protect her. I don’t fuckin know.
And now Portia has the enviable task of being the one to drag my ass out of this pit and has to do her best to make sure I don’t wind up bogging both of us down
My point is, I want this team to work so fuckin bad. But I just know I’m going to screw it up somehow. I always screw it up. All my friends from high school? Drove them away. At least three band members? Gone.
I will say, it’s a good defense mechanism against creepy dudes hitting on me. But the bad far outweighs the good…
I guess I just got this stupid anxiety about people trusting me and me trusting them. It’s why I don’t have a boyfriend, why I don’t have friends (aside from you, of course, Harry. You’re a real one), and why I don’t normally have a tag partner. That’s why having to team with Portia is fucking terrifying to me. Not because she’s a bad partner, the exact opposite, in fact. I just don’t want to fuckin let her down. I don’t want to be the reason her momentum was halted. I don’t want to cost her the championships because of my own inadequacy...
But hey, part of life is facing your fears, right? Kinda seems like my whole life has been a fucking horror show but gotta roll with the punches. I’m going to win those titles with Portia even if it kills me.
Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth? After all the shit I’ve been through in my life I die because of being in a fuckin tag team.
You think that’s even possible? Guess we’ll find out. But until then, I’d better go. I suppose I should get into contact with my partner, eh? Hah. Wish me luck on the whole “don’t fuck it up for the both of us” thing.
Thanks, Harry. Thanks for listening. You’re real good at it. I’ll talk to you later, pal.
Signed,
AH.
Amelia Hearts sits in a blue bean bag chair in her small New York apartment. She’s dressed in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a white t-shirt with long black sleeves, her blonde hair tied up in a tight, messy ponytail. She has a red guitar in her hands, lazily strumming away and her suitcase packed for Scotland sitting closeby.
I get one over on that dipshit who cost me my Horrorcore title by beating him and his dipshit partner. Now Portia and I get to take on two more dipshits who will probably end up beating each other more than beating us.
See, boys, my problem with both of you are exactly the same. You both won a championship during a lull period. You skated by on the fact that you didn’t have to defend against anybody. You hand your respective hats on these long reigns you had while conveniently glossing over the fact that neither of you defended your titles against anyone of note until you lost them.
Sure, at first glance it seems impressive. Miles, 161 days as International champ. I talked about how shitty that stretch was the last time I beat you, so let me focus on Danny Boy for a sec.
Daniel, 84 days as world champ. Beat the only MadClan member anyone cares about to win the strap and then…
Amy thinks for a second, kind of straining to think of something.
Oh yeah. That’s it. You lost the title in your first defense. 84 days, one defense, lost that one defense. That stat line is fuckin garbage, dude. But yeah, go ahead. Keep crowing about how impressive your title reign was, you fuckin pussy.
That’s enough of you for now. Let’s get to the star of this team.
Hearts giggles to herself.
Don’t worry though. That isn’t saying much… Miles! Congrats, my man. Clearly, your loss to me didn’t derail you from anything. You shook off that L I promised I’d give you and went on to win the world title from the guy who would become your partner! Well, don’t worry, kiddo. I don’t have my sights set on your strap just yet, so you can loosen your grip on it just slightly. Though… maybe I’ll change my tune when I come out on the winning end of our match again. Who fuckin knows.
But that’s for later. This is the now. I say you losing to me didn’t fuck with you too much because nothing seems to have changed. You’re still off wasting all of your time bickering with those fucking muppets instead of focusing on your career.
But hey, man, I’m proud of you. You finally managed to take your balls from your girl’s purse long enough to stand up to her. Honestly, I had you pegged as the simp type and that’s probably still true, but I’m glad you picked a hill to die on. You’re finally growing the fuck up.
I’m going to beat you again, Miles. Portia is going to beat you. We are going to beat you. You may be the big champ. I’m not going to discredit you or take that away from you
Yet
But anyways, don’t let this championship run fool you. You’re still the same little fucking child you always were. I’m not going to say your wins have been flukes because clearly that isn’t true. But it remains true that you don’t know how to be a proper champion. Your world title reign is going to be just like Dream’s reign and like your International title reign. You’re going to do absolutely nothing with it aside from lose it. Maybe it’ll be to me, or to Portia, or fuckin Austin St. Peters for god’s sake. You’re just not fuckin ready yet. You’re still not fuckin ready.
Amelia pauses her speech to play a few notes on the guitar. Slow, melodic, and sad sounding. She looks back up to the camera.
I’m going to beat you again, Miles. That’s just a straight up fact. And just like last time, we won’t need your partner to cost you the match. Although just like last time, I don’t think that’s gonna stop him from taking your ass out again.
Speaking of… Danny boy. Don’t think I forgot about you big boy! I’ve had my eye on you since I got here. And clearly, you’ve had yours on me. Whether it’s picking twitter beefs with me or sticking your nose in my fucking business, you seem infatuated with me. Maybe because you need a new high riser to keep you relevant after your partner took your strap, I don’t fuckin know and I don’t fuckin care. I’m not going to feed into your fuckin ego- sorry, egoS- anymore than I have to. We’re going to kick your shit in and leave you both in a heap.
Hearts briefly pauses to tune one of the strings on her guitar until it sounds right.
You mentioned on twitter you were going to take my heart.
She chuckles at the thought.
First of all, this ain’t Indiana Jones, bro. Second, you really think those lameass plays on my name are hot burns? Like, am I supposed to feel anything other than pity for you when I see that shit?
Amelia begins to fake cry.
Oh no! He called me Amelia Earhart! He said he’s gonna steal my heart! Boo hoo!
Just shut the fuck up, dude. Seriously, I’ve seen better insults from a laffy-taffy wrapper. All those fuckin personalities in that head of yours and you still can’t come up with a dig any better than a five year old’s? It’s fuckin pathetic!
You. You are fuckin pathetic, my guy. Your attempts at leading cults are pathetic. Your countless different failed tag teams and groups are pathetic. That pitiful shit you call a title reign is. Fucking. Pathetic.
And when these girls beat you and your fuck buddy? You guessed it. You’re going to look fucking pathetic.
I’m going to snap your fucking neck and turn that dumbass smiley face into a frown. I bet you get this a lot but it’s too funny not to mention. And I’ve already gone into clichés plenty in this one so why the fuck not?
Amelia pauses her strumming and smirks to herself for a moment.
You’re both sinking, boys. And instead of working together to free yourselves, you’re instead working to push each other deeper. Well, don't expect Portia or myself to reach out, grab your hands, and rescue you. But don’t worry, kiddies. We won’t just leave you there. Portia and I will have no trouble shoving you under and leave you gasping for air as we use your heads as stepping stones to the finals. I’ll be sure to wave goodbye as the bubbles marking your final breaths pop on the surface before we go on to win those tag titles.
Amelia gets up and sets her guitar on its stand before grabbing her suitcase by the handle.
I’ll be seeing you boys in Glasgow. And hey, to prove I’m a good sport, I’ll buy the first round after we get done beating those asses. Try to keep your heads above the surface till then.
Amelia winks and waves before walking out of the shot.