Chartres

Oh, yes, the Ozymandias way of thinking. Nothing matters, not truly. The sands of time come, they tear down our structures, and in the end, we all become nothing but ash. Nothing matters, because the moment PRIME closes, we all cease to be. I cease to be. But not you. No, you’re so much better than everyone here, so plugged into ‘the truth’, that you live on. Have permanence beyond anything any of us do here. Isn’t that funny? You, in your infinite, brainshitted wisdom, thinking that, if PRIME closed tomorrow, I wouldn’t be able to find somewhere else to wrestle that very same day.

I’m not alone with that. This hypothetical situation occurs, it’s a feeding frenzy to gobble up all that talent. Maybe we don’t want to. Maybe we don’t care. Again, you’re the one up your ass thinking your professional wrestling polyamory is a virtue that matters beyond all else. Sure, I’m a ‘wax statue’. I’m also not some edgelord, or a pigeon, rolling around in broken glass with all the depth of a Fight Club character while simultaneously looking like I could get in the hottest clubs in all of LA. There's no Minnie Mouse head on my shoulders, cuss words on my jacket so I don't look like I'm from Fortnite. I’m not waltzing off a movie set, or dropping an album. No modeling. No business empire. There ain’t no fifty cent wing nights where I come from, Startender.

That’s their hill. Good for them. Again, you’re the one going on and on about the expectation of needing to be PRIME ride or die. Makes sense...with the person signing the checks being in DEFIANCE and SHOOT Project.

Again, I’m Don Draper, looking at you. Let’s skip the part where cut off your nipple and gift it to us, Michael. No, wait...maybe the path to get there would make for an interesting story. Something to make people feel.

A scarf to wrap one’s self around.

You keep trying, over and over, to put the blame on me. That I’ve not answered your questions. Your questions are bad fucking faith. Your entire persona, everything you’ve engineered, hinges on the superiority you have to have over all of us. ‘We know things but you wouldn’t listen.’ What the fuck do you know? Give me all the spoilers. Who are the next five Universal Champions? Do we make it to ReVival 100? Does Wade Elliott turn into a werepuppy and howl at the moon? Does Cancer Jiles stop getting propped up by Coral Avalon to keep the Bandits relevant?

Or are they merely hindsight powers? You’re supposed to be the most powerful thing here. Go on. Fucking prove it. Use that reserve brain capacity and unleash the full hundred percent. Or...do you need us to lay down for you like mascots? You...coming out commenting about you, a shell, taking me to the limit? Ha. Haha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. You survived me. My level of beaten down, ripped apart, completely exhausted...I came out and fought you at YOUR Colossus. No excuses. I had a chance to end you and I didn’t. That draw pisses me off. It disgusts me. I can’t strike it away...but I damn sure can make it right by beating the shit out of you and leaving you in a heap. No jumping you in the parking lot. Don’t even try that shit...YOU wanted this. I ain’t moving through cars to blindside you. I’m just there to fight and shut you up.

Warm ourselves by your embers? You’ve eaten our food. Stayed in our bed. You swallow our light and you kick your feet up on the couch, and do it with intent to pick a fight when someone tells you to take your shoes off. You’re getting your swagger back? Stella Got Her Groove Back isn’t a miniseries. We don’t need another season of your empty threats.

Everything will be sandblasted to nothing. ‘Nothing matters’. Yet Ozymandias still speaks of its subject. The signature of the stones are gone, yet it still remains. Our wax can melt, the records lost to time, and everything done and spent can become vapor. Your whole premise on the names mentioned that aren’t here, that it means something more than you’re standing…you won’t always. You’ll go. You’ll fade. You, the special snowflake who matters so much. Fit that into whatever shoe you want, you fucking paradox,

I’m still standing.

When we’re through, you won’t be.