Overkill

I’ve sat on this a couple of days now. 

Wasn’t sure what to do with it. I don’t need it. You’re already done and buried, I could literally say “this last post won’t be necessary” and move on with my life. But since you will literally never agree to this again, it feels like a shame to leave anything left on the table, right? It’s actually kind of funny, because guys like Zion, Azula, Stevens, Scotty… these guys who you probably consider to be miles beneath you?

They’ll always do it again. 

They’ll always give it their best. 

They’ll always try to beat me, message me about how much fun it was when it was all over. They’re good sports. They like the challenge of it. Because they’re competitors. You? You’re not a competitor. You’re a salty little bitch with a fragile little ego, so you decided just not to try that hard against me. That way, when you lost, you could just say you didn’t try. For a guy who so aggressively wants to be an alpha male that he’s eternally doing his best impression of what he thinks one of those is, it’s an unsurprisingly beta male move. You don’t have the balls Stevens has. You don’t have the humility Scotty has. You don’t have the sheer relentlessness of Zion, or the urge to learn from your mistakes that Xander has. 

You’re a loser, Jace. 

You just happen to win more than they do. 

I thought this one would be fun. That’s why I was excited about it. I know you took great pride in the idea that you’d make it as unfun as possible, and you did succeed in that, but you did it at the expense of what little respect I had left for you after the cavalcade of dogshit you’ve done since you came back to HOW. I’m sure you don’t give a shit, since that’s basically your calling card, but emo has been dead for a long time, bro. Not caring hasn’t been cool for a long time. You’re the same fucking dork you’ve probably always been, telling everyone that you don’t care because it’s your security blanket. It’s Kevlar. Tell the bullies that they can’t hurt you, and maybe they’ll leave you alone. Because you ARE a shitty bully, Jace. I’ll swing on anyone who wants some, but you?

You only punch down. 

I’ve gone to war with the best shit talkers in HOW and I’ll gladly do it a million more times. You backed off this match the second it was booked, but that’s not the energy you’d have brought against a guy you thought you could beat. The King of Everything got down on his knees and surrendered before the first bell even rang and let me take a hot piss all over his crown. Motherfucker, you’re the King of Nothing.

I’m just gonna beat you and be done with it, man. 

You’ve probably talked more shit about me in side discords this week than you have in HOFC promos. You’re probably proud that you didn’t “play my game”, and think you got inside of my head or something. But the most fun I’ve had all week is the constant texts, Facebook messages, DMs… GIFs of the coffin dance, accusations of murder, one text that literally just said “Bruh… lol”. It turns out that disliking Jace Parker Davidson is a language so universal that it has brought the entire wrestling industry together.  “How the hotdog is made” is literally a meme already. One person even asked me if HOFC had a waiver in case someone I faced decided to take their own life, and the person was not making fun of you. 

They were concerned. 

I won’t name names, so let’s just say that message came from Bobby Dean and move on (it didn’t). The point is, Jace, that it doesn’t matter what you think happened here. It doesn’t matter if your feelings are hurt or if they aren’t. It doesn’t matter if you care. What matters is that the rest of the world just watched you get curb stomped, and they watched you take it like the kind of porn I’m almost certain you exclusively watch. And now they get to watch me knee you back into the Stone Age, which is where I assume you learned to talk to women in the first place. 

Okay, I think I’m about done here. 

Time to make some popcorn.