Post by Amelia Hearts on Mar 25, 2021 15:49:08 GMT -5
Dear Harry,
Here we go again. Round two. The match that I both wanted and didn’t want at the same time. See, I was pissed I lost the Horrorcore gauntlet. Like anyone who lost a championship match should be. Naturally, I wanted to earn myself another shot.
Keyword: earn.
What I didn’t want is for Dorian to fuckin hand me a rematch. It pissed me off even more, sort of an insult to injury. But fuck it, whatever, I took the match. Why not show this bastard the mistake he made? I’m gonna do just that in whatever match he finally chooses. I’m going to beat him up and down the arena, I’m going to kick him square in the chest, break his heart, and take his gold.
But I digress, I gotta admit, it’s kinda funny. This dude wanted me and everyone else to believe he was some noble dude, handing out shots to people he felt deserved it. But then what does he go and do? He joins up with a couple of other idiots to just beat people down and take their shit from them. But then they get broken up in the draft, Johnny Dumbazz (Dumba$$? I don’t fucking know how that idiot spells his shit) loses out on a shot at the world title, aaaaaaand the wheels almost instantly fell off. And the responsibility falls directly on the incompetent leader. You know him, you can’t stand him, it’s Dorian Rhodes!
Then what? He joins yet another group? And we’re supposed to believe this dipshit can handle business on his own? No, Rhodes is a fucking follower. He needs help in all of his battles. He hides behind the other people in his factions, he hides behind Kylie Moore to keep him from defending his championship. He is a fucking coward, avoiding conflict at all costs.
That’s the difference between me and him. I don’t run away when things get difficult. Instead of running away, I run towards the danger. A lot of times that gets me into more trouble, surprising I know, but I’ve never been known to be exceptionally smart.
He’s all about the mind games, likes to get into his opponents’ heads to throw them off track. But what happens when he can’t? What happens when he comes up against someone who he can’t fuck with, who’s been fucked with her entire fucking life so she doesn’t fall for any of his cheap tricks? Yeah, he’s got nothing. That’s exactly what he’s got with me. He’s got fucking nothing.
So let’s look at the situation in front of us. We have a fucking coward as champion who hides away from a challenge for as long as possible, being forced to defend against a reckless woman who never backs away from a challenge who’s been on his ass for four months now. So you can expect for absolute certain that whatever match he picks, it’s going to be a fucking bloodbath ending with me standing in the middle of the ring, the Horrorcore title in one hand, and his severed, bloody head in the other.
He’s a promising young rookie. He’s got a lot going for him. It’s going to be a shame to end everything for him. I’m not going to feel good about it, Har…
Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? It’s going to be a fucking blast.
The kid has coasted by on not having to defend his title. It’s fucking pathetic. He hasn’t defended it once since winning it in fucking December. You can expect some big changes once I take that strap from him.
You know… I get asked a lot, Har. They ask me why I’m still chasing after the Horrorcore title when I could go for the International or even World title. Well, first of all. I’m still chasing it because this match was made three fucking months ago and the bitch has been ducking me the whole time. So I’m focusing on the task at hand.
But… another reason why I stick around in the Horrorcore division? Because I love it. I love the pain and destruction of the whole fucking thing.
It’s no secret. I’m a masochist. I live to feel pain. But don’t get it twisted. It isn’t sexual. It’s just a basic need for me. Ever since Charlie died, I’ve been searching for something. Anything to let me know I’m still alive. I tried so many different things. Lo and behold, the one thing that does it for me is pain. It’s fucked up to think about, I know, but when I stop feeling pain, I know that I’m finally done, my stubborn ass finally gave up the ghost.
As the saying goes, it took a funeral to make me feel alive.
Okay. Not quite that drastic. But I realized the only thing that consistently makes me feel anything is getting hurt. I need to cut myself just to see if I will bleed. Maybe that’s why I drink until I’m throwing up every goddamn night. Maybe that’s why I’m a wrestler. Maybe that’s why I got into a relationship with a girl who I knew was going to fuck me over. One thing I’m sure about is it’s the reason why I’m competing in a hardcore division where people hit each other with chairs and swing steel chains at each other.
I know it’s fucking weird. I know it doesn’t make sense. But that’s sorta been my gimmick lately, right Harry? I don’t make any fucking sense. But one thing about me is for sure. And that is I want that championship. I need that championship. And I hope Dorian is ready to shed some fucking red because I am ready and willing to bleed for that fucking strap.
I know I’ve said it before. But this time is for real. Next time we speak, Harry, I’ll be a fucking champion. Until then, I’ll talk to you later.
Signed,
AH.
Here we go again. Round two. The match that I both wanted and didn’t want at the same time. See, I was pissed I lost the Horrorcore gauntlet. Like anyone who lost a championship match should be. Naturally, I wanted to earn myself another shot.
Keyword: earn.
What I didn’t want is for Dorian to fuckin hand me a rematch. It pissed me off even more, sort of an insult to injury. But fuck it, whatever, I took the match. Why not show this bastard the mistake he made? I’m gonna do just that in whatever match he finally chooses. I’m going to beat him up and down the arena, I’m going to kick him square in the chest, break his heart, and take his gold.
But I digress, I gotta admit, it’s kinda funny. This dude wanted me and everyone else to believe he was some noble dude, handing out shots to people he felt deserved it. But then what does he go and do? He joins up with a couple of other idiots to just beat people down and take their shit from them. But then they get broken up in the draft, Johnny Dumbazz (Dumba$$? I don’t fucking know how that idiot spells his shit) loses out on a shot at the world title, aaaaaaand the wheels almost instantly fell off. And the responsibility falls directly on the incompetent leader. You know him, you can’t stand him, it’s Dorian Rhodes!
Then what? He joins yet another group? And we’re supposed to believe this dipshit can handle business on his own? No, Rhodes is a fucking follower. He needs help in all of his battles. He hides behind the other people in his factions, he hides behind Kylie Moore to keep him from defending his championship. He is a fucking coward, avoiding conflict at all costs.
That’s the difference between me and him. I don’t run away when things get difficult. Instead of running away, I run towards the danger. A lot of times that gets me into more trouble, surprising I know, but I’ve never been known to be exceptionally smart.
He’s all about the mind games, likes to get into his opponents’ heads to throw them off track. But what happens when he can’t? What happens when he comes up against someone who he can’t fuck with, who’s been fucked with her entire fucking life so she doesn’t fall for any of his cheap tricks? Yeah, he’s got nothing. That’s exactly what he’s got with me. He’s got fucking nothing.
So let’s look at the situation in front of us. We have a fucking coward as champion who hides away from a challenge for as long as possible, being forced to defend against a reckless woman who never backs away from a challenge who’s been on his ass for four months now. So you can expect for absolute certain that whatever match he picks, it’s going to be a fucking bloodbath ending with me standing in the middle of the ring, the Horrorcore title in one hand, and his severed, bloody head in the other.
He’s a promising young rookie. He’s got a lot going for him. It’s going to be a shame to end everything for him. I’m not going to feel good about it, Har…
Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? It’s going to be a fucking blast.
The kid has coasted by on not having to defend his title. It’s fucking pathetic. He hasn’t defended it once since winning it in fucking December. You can expect some big changes once I take that strap from him.
You know… I get asked a lot, Har. They ask me why I’m still chasing after the Horrorcore title when I could go for the International or even World title. Well, first of all. I’m still chasing it because this match was made three fucking months ago and the bitch has been ducking me the whole time. So I’m focusing on the task at hand.
But… another reason why I stick around in the Horrorcore division? Because I love it. I love the pain and destruction of the whole fucking thing.
It’s no secret. I’m a masochist. I live to feel pain. But don’t get it twisted. It isn’t sexual. It’s just a basic need for me. Ever since Charlie died, I’ve been searching for something. Anything to let me know I’m still alive. I tried so many different things. Lo and behold, the one thing that does it for me is pain. It’s fucked up to think about, I know, but when I stop feeling pain, I know that I’m finally done, my stubborn ass finally gave up the ghost.
As the saying goes, it took a funeral to make me feel alive.
Okay. Not quite that drastic. But I realized the only thing that consistently makes me feel anything is getting hurt. I need to cut myself just to see if I will bleed. Maybe that’s why I drink until I’m throwing up every goddamn night. Maybe that’s why I’m a wrestler. Maybe that’s why I got into a relationship with a girl who I knew was going to fuck me over. One thing I’m sure about is it’s the reason why I’m competing in a hardcore division where people hit each other with chairs and swing steel chains at each other.
I know it’s fucking weird. I know it doesn’t make sense. But that’s sorta been my gimmick lately, right Harry? I don’t make any fucking sense. But one thing about me is for sure. And that is I want that championship. I need that championship. And I hope Dorian is ready to shed some fucking red because I am ready and willing to bleed for that fucking strap.
I know I’ve said it before. But this time is for real. Next time we speak, Harry, I’ll be a fucking champion. Until then, I’ll talk to you later.
Signed,
AH.