9/07/14 Destiny

It’s hard for you, I’m sure, to believe that in this bubble of vitriol that this adventure has set me in, that there are multi-dimensions to who I am. There is also sadness, and other emotions, of which are nonsensical. This match means nothing to me, nor does this organization, nor does your plight to take me down. I’ll wear a skirt and makeup so you can have a field day in the heat. I’ll cut my wrists and the world will be no better, or worse for it. I would rather everybody stop, ask “what’s that sound?” Emotion.

Very little do I feel them, and when I do, it is usually sadness. I’m not a real person, no, not really. I’ve tried, but find that I am just empty inside. Do you really want a person like that as your Universal Champion instead of Thomas Minns? By the way, that name does not roll off the tongue well, so you should probably change it. I am with the stars and the universe. There is very little reason for me to actually be a champion, especially considering I’ve held titles better than this years ago and for years. Astronomical.

I will do what is asked of me by the company, for I am under contract and despite my distaste, it should be understood that I am a hard worker even when under pressure. In the frigid north, I gave up though. I didn’t fight to change the minds of those people, no, I just packed my things and came back to the one place I know in Texas and tried to continue, but things had changed there. I now come, a messenger of art to a dystopian world without it. This organization is as void as my empty emotions.

They are like a hole, the fluid that fills it, sadness, is like the midnight of space. It is something greater than I am and is all encompassing. There are gentle, dim lights that flicker and twinkle in the distance as though underwater and out of reach. These lights are my happy thoughts that I strive so much to reach for, but know I never will. I am a lonely man now, pushing away everyone I know because I have nothing inside and the only formations within the rocks of my throat is vitriol. It is so very beautiful too.

If I could have eyes that sees the world for what you all do, it would be bright and blue like Robin Williams’, heck, I’d take his smile too because that man’s smile changed the world. One day I’m going to kill myself, but it is not today, nor even this year. This organization has tried to keep me down, but I will be the only person who buries Alioth Starre. I will fight you for everything you have and prove that I am better than each and everyone of you because I know that I am and already harbor the evidence within my hands like a dead child.

I look to you with this carcass in my hands with proud sorrow and tell you the life I’ve created and the profound effect it had on me and others. My baby, my little dead baby that is not only the star of this play, but the producer, set decorator, hair; wardrobe; makeup; everything to me. I could not stand on the stage you spit on me in now if it weren’t for the child of art I have created before this; before you. I do not weep for it, but for the death of art.

When I came here, I hoped to spread my message in the beauty of art, but have been brought down by the snoody, and the ill tarts that run this organization and aligned with that little mindless punk Cee-Five Ion. Whatever, I will be your Obi-Wan Kenobi. I will be the exile that does not get involve and accepts death when the time comes. I come not to end your rebellion, or empire, but to merely be a spark that aids in the resurrection of art, of which will lead to the events that ultimate destroys this company.

What you may not know about the frigid north is that after I had quit and left to return down toward Texas, the organization soon folded. The owner was so pigheaded that he refused to allow any of his talents to take the title for themselves. You know a place is corrupt when the owner is the champion. You know a place is corrupt when you try to quit and they say, “well, I’ll book him next week anyway and we’ll see what happens. He’s got another thing coming!” Hang your hats kids, it’s over.

Thomas Minns can have the belt, because I’ve already won the title. The belt is a meaningless material possession. The title is everything and to be a man of the universe, well, I already was and always will be. I am the best in the universe at what I do, and none of you will ever come close to knowing such art and talent. Not a single one of you.

I am among no one. Never was. So, I will rest in my coffin until this is all over and all of you will dance on your stages to the fae that whisper spritely things in your ears. My dears, may you stare into the eyes of the sun and understand, no, truly, truly comprehend the glare it gazes back into your hearts with. Under the harsh light of day, nothing is forgiven.

I will awaken from my slumber when September ends. This is a fortress of stone no longer shaking to the core. To me, the sunlight feels cold, and I really, truly am old at heart.

Yes, I have washed up on the shore and let it take me back, for I can stand no more. No more.