Post by Joey Harris on Feb 20, 2014 23:19:06 GMT -5
"Entrance music?"
I read the question aloud. What a question, at that! Surely, a simple one. Yet, I had never been asked to answer one more difficult than this. Not as far as I could remember, at least...which, to be honest, is not very far.
I sigh. "This is bullshit," I grumble under my breath. I stare narrow-eyed at the paperwork before me, my patience wearing thin. How am I supposed to know which song should play as I walk to the ring, as if I am making some grand entrance. I'm a fighter, not a movie star! I don't want some silly red-carpet routine!
Then again, how could I possibly know for sure?
"What would he want?" I inquire to myself. It is a question I have grown all too familiar with asking, perhaps never to be answered. Does it really matter? After all, I'm not him anymore, am I? Once more, I sigh; more accurately described as a deep, gruff growl. This wooden chair grows uncomfortable, as I grow restless. I reach across my desk, flipping a switch on my small table lamp. The dim glow that illuminated the corner of this room quickly fades away, and I shut my eyes, acknowledging the enveloping darkness. Although my body aches for some rest, my mind is wide-awake, as so many thoughts suddenly drown my consciousness as though a floodgate had been opened in my mind.
I have so much to prepare for in the coming weeks. Contract signings, wardrobe, interviews...
"Ugh," I shudder, a familiar feeling of disdain tickling my spine. These brief flashes of old emotions and memories seldom hit me, and tend to go as quickly as they come.
"So, the old me must not be looking forward to this." I can't help but smirk, and chuckle softly within the confines of my imagination. After traveling the world for over four years, I'm not entirely sure who the "old me" is anymore. I spent so much time and energy, training my mind and my body, strengthening my will, overcoming my demons. Now, I couldn't say what I was trying so hard to escape. All I know is, whatever it was, is gone. My ghosts died quite some time ago, along with my humanity; a symbol of meek, pathetic period in a life I no longer remember.
True, though, it is, that there are some things I wish I could remember, things I wish I could explain. The faces in my dreams- one woman, one child- and the voices...those twisted, disturbing shades that haunt my sleep, worming their way into my dreams, warping them into nightmares, dark images that overtake my soul and drown me in fear and in hatred. I wish I could understand why those thoughts haunt me.
I wish I could understand what they mean.
I wish I could understand why they make me feel complete.
I read the question aloud. What a question, at that! Surely, a simple one. Yet, I had never been asked to answer one more difficult than this. Not as far as I could remember, at least...which, to be honest, is not very far.
I sigh. "This is bullshit," I grumble under my breath. I stare narrow-eyed at the paperwork before me, my patience wearing thin. How am I supposed to know which song should play as I walk to the ring, as if I am making some grand entrance. I'm a fighter, not a movie star! I don't want some silly red-carpet routine!
Then again, how could I possibly know for sure?
"What would he want?" I inquire to myself. It is a question I have grown all too familiar with asking, perhaps never to be answered. Does it really matter? After all, I'm not him anymore, am I? Once more, I sigh; more accurately described as a deep, gruff growl. This wooden chair grows uncomfortable, as I grow restless. I reach across my desk, flipping a switch on my small table lamp. The dim glow that illuminated the corner of this room quickly fades away, and I shut my eyes, acknowledging the enveloping darkness. Although my body aches for some rest, my mind is wide-awake, as so many thoughts suddenly drown my consciousness as though a floodgate had been opened in my mind.
I have so much to prepare for in the coming weeks. Contract signings, wardrobe, interviews...
"Ugh," I shudder, a familiar feeling of disdain tickling my spine. These brief flashes of old emotions and memories seldom hit me, and tend to go as quickly as they come.
"So, the old me must not be looking forward to this." I can't help but smirk, and chuckle softly within the confines of my imagination. After traveling the world for over four years, I'm not entirely sure who the "old me" is anymore. I spent so much time and energy, training my mind and my body, strengthening my will, overcoming my demons. Now, I couldn't say what I was trying so hard to escape. All I know is, whatever it was, is gone. My ghosts died quite some time ago, along with my humanity; a symbol of meek, pathetic period in a life I no longer remember.
True, though, it is, that there are some things I wish I could remember, things I wish I could explain. The faces in my dreams- one woman, one child- and the voices...those twisted, disturbing shades that haunt my sleep, worming their way into my dreams, warping them into nightmares, dark images that overtake my soul and drown me in fear and in hatred. I wish I could understand why those thoughts haunt me.
I wish I could understand what they mean.
I wish I could understand why they make me feel complete.
