I’m starting to feel like a god damn Green Day song.
I mean, just how the fuck did I drop down so fucking low? I get beaten by Mike Best, big surprise there, and then Arthur fucking Pleasant has to add insult to heavy injury. So the end result is that the last few weeks I’ve basically been down and out. Don’t worry Arthur, you’ll get your due diligence…
So I get back up only to find out I’m now facing a freshly returned Cecilworth Farthington on the USS Octane this upcoming weekend. Boy where did my luck run off too?
It’s not that I’m not confident in myself…I just have doubts. Of course, Mrs. Buttersworth will probably come to the same conclusion everyone else has…Brian Hollywood is garbage…Hollywood can’t hold a candle to anyone in HOW anymore. Hollywood will tout redemption story after redemption story. Hollywood will say he’s changed and blah blah blah blah fucking blah.
The truth is….I just don’t give any worthful fucks anymore. I’m to a point where I’m so down on my luck, going wrong can’t possibly go wrong for me. I give you credit Mrs. Buttersworth…the fact that you returned and wanted to be in the HOFC division should make me give you a golf clap…but the truth is you don’t want to be near anywhere of that clusterfuck of a World title scene right now. Can’t say I blame you. Honestly, though, you’ve already won the world title and held onto it for a pretty long time. Congrats to you for that. But why wouldn’t you want to pick back up where you left off? I know I would. When HOW closed its doors back in 2016 and then reopened a few years later, all I wanted to do was be back involved with the HOW World Championship. But you? I can’t help but to wonder why guys like you don’t want that top brass 97 red anymore. I know what it is, though.
It’s Mike Best. You two really are best friends. He holds the HOFC Championship and you’re hoping to play in the same pool as him. I mean, why not? Mike will welcome you with open arms. Guys like me, though? Just an afterthought I suppose. Well, quite frankly, I’m tired of being an afterthought. I’m just tired in general…
I’ve been fatigued for awhile and I’m just trying to find SOMETHING…some basic ground to stand on that is firm and not ready to crumble beneath me. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been like that for as long as I can remember. I’m a changed man and clearly I don’t have the same fight in me that I used to. I’m trying to find it, though. I really am, despite the contrary of what everyone else thinks. Don’t worry though, Buttersworth, I promise to show up and give you the best fight I can. Or can I? I’ve been told my promises don’t really mean shit, either…so I guess well see, won’t we?
Last week you got Bobby Dean. This week you get me. You will probably come to the conclusion that it will be another easy handout win for you. I implore you, go for it. Trix are for kids.
Honestly, I’m now just fighting with rage and attempting to find a purpose for myself. If anything, fighting without a purpose pisses me off to the fucking bloody moon and back. Seems like for each week that goes by, the anger within just keeps building and building. Mike beat the fuck out of me pretty good but maybe I was just built to take beating after beating and getting back on my feet..just because I can take the hits. Just come at me with all you got, Buttersworth…keep pounding my face into the ground repeatedly and see what happens. Maybe…just maybe…I might actually build up enough anger where the levy finally just breaks and I just let everything out.
It’s like playing Russian Roulette…it all comes down to chance and if you keep pressing yours, I might just have enough rage inside to find myself an HOFC win. Who knows…all I know is if I were everyone else, I wouldn’t bet on myself either. However, eventually everyone gets their break and maybe I should bet on myself. Perhaps I’m capable of pulling off the upset. I’ve done it before…what’s stopping me from doing it again?
Or…just wake me up when this god forsaken month of May ends…