Post by Joey on Feb 6, 2020 18:14:50 GMT -5
I sit up on my bed. Taking a breath and coughing all the time cursing my lungs. I wait for the sensation to pass and I stand up. My hair is unkempt, I have on a black tshirt and some blue shorts. I walk into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see an old man peering back out at me from my eyes. White hair showing on my head, a 5 o'clock shadow that never seems to go away. Flabby arms and legs. I grew old. When did I grow old? I wasn't supposed to make it this far. But here I am, god favors the wicked, to be true.
I grab my tooth brush and brush feverishly. Once my teeth go there is no going back. I rinse out with water and step out into my kitchen. The gold white marble floor is a wake up call, since my room has carpet. But my feet get accustomed to it fairly quick.
I look at the clock on the stove it is 9:57am. I contemplate whether I should make breakfast or wait a bit and then get lunch. I survey myself internally and come to the conclusion that breakfast is overrated and you can only consume so much egg in your lifetime before you start to revolt against it.
I check my cell phone for messages and reply to them all, then I check my voicemails I have two. I hear them then delete them. The next few minutes comprise of me showering and changing into real clothes and then turn on the TV. I fold some laundry and hang some clothes. I wash dishes from the night before and all the while thinking what I want for lunch today. My stomach is awake now and is getting a bit restless. I think about possible some chicken, some Boston Market, but then I think no, I eat way too much chicken as it is. I think then Popeye's, and I go back to the first scenario, then I think chicken wings. And I have to smile at this when I think what is it with me and chicken?
I think maybe some baby back ribs from Chili's, that might be an option. Then I think for some odd reason I want some meat loaf. My mother she used to make some really good meat loaf with mashed potatoes on the side and sometimes a macaroni salad. I smile again but with a tinge of sadness as well. I miss her very much.
And so I grapple with different ideas of what I might go out to eat today. I end up settling on some tacos. Its good food, fastly made and wont break the bank. And so I go off and find myself a local taqueria and eat.
After my meal I sit for a moment thinking now what? I look at my phone again to check who I will be facing at the next upcoming Titans. I find the next person up will be Jackson Kent. The inconsistent Jackson Kent. Former World champion, former everything. Former standing out most of all. Just like his inconsistency.
Jackson I gave you a brief glimpse into a normal day for myself. Nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary just what any adult man might do with his mornings. And I reiterate the nothing special part. For some reason some seem to think that because I am the last founding father left, that I have something special in me or that I do that has kept me going this long. The answer would be no such thing exists. I am nothing. Not special, not great, not talented, not strong nor particularly fast. One might say I am like Emerson Embry in being just utterly normal. The only thing that might set me apart is my past. I trained with very famous and great wrestlers none more so than Legion. He was pure hatred, that was all that was left of him in the end. He hated everything, God most of all. And that hate drove him, he took on disciples, who learned from him, learned things about our own kind our own religion. But it all ended. He ended. And I was left stranded in a world I didn't understand anymore.
I see things that people talk about Instagram, Snapchat, and god knows what else. I do not even have a face book account. I am so old school I might as well be a caveman.
I have also noticed as I get older my memories start to fade. What I once remembered so clearly now begin to slowly become less of a memory and more like a fading dream. Raindrops in a dream. I was never very poetic, not like Shadow or Glenn were. They could make words fly through your conscious with little effort. They heard a song that I couldn't hear, music and lyrics made up of fairytales. How I miss those words. And that is fading from me also. Soon I fear I will be just an old man with no family, no friends, and just bitterness in me. I do not want to be like that anymore. I have reached out to people from the past, but mostly they do not care to hear anything. And as time keeps going, I start to care less and less.
And that is the rub with me. I care about SFT. But I should also care about myself. And I do not. Not anymore. Sick or well I go on. And I have been waiting too long for something to wake me up. Nothing seems to wake me up anymore. I am stuck in a haze of alive and not alive and I do not know what to do anymore.
So I do what I have always done. I will show up on Titans. I will stand toe to toe with Jackson Kent. I will let him stare into my eyes for a moment so that he can see the old man that I see every morning, and when he sees him he will see his own future. That which is yet to come for him. He will see me and see his own future, or one comparable.
Jackson when you wake up in the morning what do you see? A day full of possibilities, do you see a night gone by? Your wife and child? Do you see your future as bright as you think it is? I hope you do. For your sake I hope you do.
I have lived in a far off place for so long I think I forgot what it is like to be normal. To get lunch, go to a movie, go on a date. And that is sad. I am sad.
But on Titans I will not be sad, at least not for some minutes. Jackson you will help me to remember who I am, and why I am. I want to take time now to say thank you for your cooperation. You are helping me in ways you could not understand. I have forsaken myself long enough. It is time for me to awake. Time for me to remember who I am and more importantly who I was.
The great awaking. Or maybe not. Maybe I will stay in my slumber and sleep another year. Be like a bear in hibernation. We will have to wait and see which Redd comes out on Titans. Wont we?
I think later today I will go for a walk. A nice brisk walk would do this old soul some good I think.
...Fade….to…..Darkness…..
Sometimes I stay up nights waiting for you, just so I can pass the days that follow them asleep and not awake to miss you.
The daytime is always harder, the waking up.
Staying awake into the small hours of the morning, that is somehow a bit numb and detached.
Late at night I can even stand to think about some things that hurt me from behind the glass of my own fatigue, protected from their full effect.
I stay up as late as I can, in times like this.
If I can whittle away the hours and the next day delay my wakefulness,
I do it wholeheartedly.
Waking up is a vile thing.
No, not just because mornings are drowsy and too bright and too quick and I never feel rested if I get up in the AM.
Waking up is terrible in a different way than even that.
It is insidious.
It is the departure from my dreams.
Even the awful ones are better than the waiting.
Going to sleep I adore, truly, because it is an escape from living without the permanence of dying.
But ah, the waking up.
That is what makes me hesitate long hours in the dark depths of the early morning.
I dread waking up.
All the illusions are shattered, good or evil,
And I must taste the bitterness of reality.
Every day it gets a little more sour.
I suspect it's this way for many people. I don't know, though.
I know only that in the first moments of waking up each day, my heart is seized by this wicked, burrowing grief,
And so I begin each of my hours of awareness with the painful sorrow of loss.
That is why I stay in bed so late, most days:
I lay there and before the haze of sleep departs I think, "Oh no, not yet, I can't bear it yet."
And in fear retreat back into my stupor.
I don't know what it is, this feeling.
If I had to put a name on it... I'd say it feels akin to disappointment, regret, and....
Shame, all at once.
It swells up inside me and fills me to my fingertips the moment I decide to leave my bed for the day, sometimes even before.
And the fact that it can fill me everywhere reminds me that that space is usually unoccupied by anything of substance.
I fear…..I fear I no longer want to wake up anymore…...
I grab my tooth brush and brush feverishly. Once my teeth go there is no going back. I rinse out with water and step out into my kitchen. The gold white marble floor is a wake up call, since my room has carpet. But my feet get accustomed to it fairly quick.
I look at the clock on the stove it is 9:57am. I contemplate whether I should make breakfast or wait a bit and then get lunch. I survey myself internally and come to the conclusion that breakfast is overrated and you can only consume so much egg in your lifetime before you start to revolt against it.
I check my cell phone for messages and reply to them all, then I check my voicemails I have two. I hear them then delete them. The next few minutes comprise of me showering and changing into real clothes and then turn on the TV. I fold some laundry and hang some clothes. I wash dishes from the night before and all the while thinking what I want for lunch today. My stomach is awake now and is getting a bit restless. I think about possible some chicken, some Boston Market, but then I think no, I eat way too much chicken as it is. I think then Popeye's, and I go back to the first scenario, then I think chicken wings. And I have to smile at this when I think what is it with me and chicken?
I think maybe some baby back ribs from Chili's, that might be an option. Then I think for some odd reason I want some meat loaf. My mother she used to make some really good meat loaf with mashed potatoes on the side and sometimes a macaroni salad. I smile again but with a tinge of sadness as well. I miss her very much.
And so I grapple with different ideas of what I might go out to eat today. I end up settling on some tacos. Its good food, fastly made and wont break the bank. And so I go off and find myself a local taqueria and eat.
After my meal I sit for a moment thinking now what? I look at my phone again to check who I will be facing at the next upcoming Titans. I find the next person up will be Jackson Kent. The inconsistent Jackson Kent. Former World champion, former everything. Former standing out most of all. Just like his inconsistency.
Jackson I gave you a brief glimpse into a normal day for myself. Nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary just what any adult man might do with his mornings. And I reiterate the nothing special part. For some reason some seem to think that because I am the last founding father left, that I have something special in me or that I do that has kept me going this long. The answer would be no such thing exists. I am nothing. Not special, not great, not talented, not strong nor particularly fast. One might say I am like Emerson Embry in being just utterly normal. The only thing that might set me apart is my past. I trained with very famous and great wrestlers none more so than Legion. He was pure hatred, that was all that was left of him in the end. He hated everything, God most of all. And that hate drove him, he took on disciples, who learned from him, learned things about our own kind our own religion. But it all ended. He ended. And I was left stranded in a world I didn't understand anymore.
I see things that people talk about Instagram, Snapchat, and god knows what else. I do not even have a face book account. I am so old school I might as well be a caveman.
I have also noticed as I get older my memories start to fade. What I once remembered so clearly now begin to slowly become less of a memory and more like a fading dream. Raindrops in a dream. I was never very poetic, not like Shadow or Glenn were. They could make words fly through your conscious with little effort. They heard a song that I couldn't hear, music and lyrics made up of fairytales. How I miss those words. And that is fading from me also. Soon I fear I will be just an old man with no family, no friends, and just bitterness in me. I do not want to be like that anymore. I have reached out to people from the past, but mostly they do not care to hear anything. And as time keeps going, I start to care less and less.
And that is the rub with me. I care about SFT. But I should also care about myself. And I do not. Not anymore. Sick or well I go on. And I have been waiting too long for something to wake me up. Nothing seems to wake me up anymore. I am stuck in a haze of alive and not alive and I do not know what to do anymore.
So I do what I have always done. I will show up on Titans. I will stand toe to toe with Jackson Kent. I will let him stare into my eyes for a moment so that he can see the old man that I see every morning, and when he sees him he will see his own future. That which is yet to come for him. He will see me and see his own future, or one comparable.
Jackson when you wake up in the morning what do you see? A day full of possibilities, do you see a night gone by? Your wife and child? Do you see your future as bright as you think it is? I hope you do. For your sake I hope you do.
I have lived in a far off place for so long I think I forgot what it is like to be normal. To get lunch, go to a movie, go on a date. And that is sad. I am sad.
But on Titans I will not be sad, at least not for some minutes. Jackson you will help me to remember who I am, and why I am. I want to take time now to say thank you for your cooperation. You are helping me in ways you could not understand. I have forsaken myself long enough. It is time for me to awake. Time for me to remember who I am and more importantly who I was.
The great awaking. Or maybe not. Maybe I will stay in my slumber and sleep another year. Be like a bear in hibernation. We will have to wait and see which Redd comes out on Titans. Wont we?
I think later today I will go for a walk. A nice brisk walk would do this old soul some good I think.
...Fade….to…..Darkness…..
Sometimes I stay up nights waiting for you, just so I can pass the days that follow them asleep and not awake to miss you.
The daytime is always harder, the waking up.
Staying awake into the small hours of the morning, that is somehow a bit numb and detached.
Late at night I can even stand to think about some things that hurt me from behind the glass of my own fatigue, protected from their full effect.
I stay up as late as I can, in times like this.
If I can whittle away the hours and the next day delay my wakefulness,
I do it wholeheartedly.
Waking up is a vile thing.
No, not just because mornings are drowsy and too bright and too quick and I never feel rested if I get up in the AM.
Waking up is terrible in a different way than even that.
It is insidious.
It is the departure from my dreams.
Even the awful ones are better than the waiting.
Going to sleep I adore, truly, because it is an escape from living without the permanence of dying.
But ah, the waking up.
That is what makes me hesitate long hours in the dark depths of the early morning.
I dread waking up.
All the illusions are shattered, good or evil,
And I must taste the bitterness of reality.
Every day it gets a little more sour.
I suspect it's this way for many people. I don't know, though.
I know only that in the first moments of waking up each day, my heart is seized by this wicked, burrowing grief,
And so I begin each of my hours of awareness with the painful sorrow of loss.
That is why I stay in bed so late, most days:
I lay there and before the haze of sleep departs I think, "Oh no, not yet, I can't bear it yet."
And in fear retreat back into my stupor.
I don't know what it is, this feeling.
If I had to put a name on it... I'd say it feels akin to disappointment, regret, and....
Shame, all at once.
It swells up inside me and fills me to my fingertips the moment I decide to leave my bed for the day, sometimes even before.
And the fact that it can fill me everywhere reminds me that that space is usually unoccupied by anything of substance.
I fear…..I fear I no longer want to wake up anymore…...
