CWC: Kasey's Blog: By Fire Be Purged [Nov 23 2017, 09:06 AM]
Mar 24, 2018 2:15:04 GMT -5
Post by Admin on Mar 24, 2018 2:15:04 GMT -5
If I'm still breathing, odds are I'm going to eventually end up choking. On regrets. On the smoke. See, being a firebird is kinda overrated. Reinvention gets old after a while. And I know it was originally a play on my hometown, I do – it's just now it's become this whole THING and I don't know what to do with it. I keep hitting reset, hoping to find the sweet spot. I keep chasing shadows because that one time I fell sideways into a company and failed my way to greatness. One time I broke an undefeated streak and set a new one. One time I beat a girl named McGuffin instead of running after a belt that's almost become one.
Smoke inhalation's for the birds – pun and groan intended.
See, when I clawed my way back into this business, I was hoping that it had stayed perfectly on pause, that the moment was just waiting for me to pick it back up. Things are weird now, the business more about how much skin you can show on social media on any given day and less about the skill or the talent or even anything you can say to promote yourself and the company you work for.
A woman who never speaks has been on a tear across the landscape of Empire and I'm still here in the kiddie pool trying to learn how to dog paddle. I'm never going to have an epic match with Molly Reid that people will be talking about. I'm bound to crash and burn again and this time maybe I'll get to take Bri Davenport with me. Maybe I'll get to find out what it's like to run with a prize for a little while – even the broken clock gets to be right twice a day, after all. So I'm stuck here with a huge box of tissues, my humidifier going and….well, it's only Wednesday. Hopefully by Friday I'm better and if not, maybe I'll drop dead before I hit the ring.
I need sleep. I can't. The more I think, the worse it gets. My confinement is solitary tonight (my apologies to Jax, who I stole that line from) and I've never felt so alone. I don't feel like I can talk about this with anyone, especially not with Ak because I don't want to seem weak when I'm supposed to have it all figured out. I can do this. I know I can because I've done it before.
A big part of me wants to call this too little, too late, to burn the place to the ground on principle. Where was my singles opportunity months ago? Why all these group clusterfucks? Why did you push me and Jenson together as a team?
Was this all a test?
I don't like that. I don't even like thinking that. I just want to feel confident again and I don't think I'm ever going to find that. I don't think I will ever throw myself off the highest heights without hesitating long enough to make sure it's safe – what a bullshit relative term that is. Broken bones and blood in my mouth and bruises fading various shades of the rainbow can never really be considered 'safe'. Compared to death? To dismemberment? I suppose they're better. And I suppose it's stupid to spend time writing out my feelings like I'm some lovestruck geeky teenager pining for that elusive football jock she can never have. Whoops. Too much information, right?
I just want to cry because I'm so damned frustrated. Maybe FFW was a fluke, this sheltered little place where garbage wrestlers like Fujiko Mine could carve out a niche but girls like me and Samantha Tolson were victimized, ostracized and cast out. They didn't hold a place for me. I wasn't important enough.
All this time, that's all I've ever really wanted to be.
I know I need to grow up, to let that go. The past belongs there, dead and buried. Bridges burned behind me so I will stop mentally crossing back and watching how the world got on without me. I need to legitimately pull the firebird trick instead of walking the same path over and over again.
I am not immune to making stupid mistakes. Never was because I am impulsive. I don't think before I act usually. I've been trying hard to correct that.
Every day is a little better and now I feel like maybe what I mistook for growth was really just me fleeing, distancing myself from the problem. Gradually, I'm getting used to the idea of no longer being a champion in some backwater wrestling promotion. Don't get me wrong. It was amazeballs to be the FFW Television champion and I loved every second of it, but I think that injury happened for a reason. I lost the belt for a reason.
Summer's gone.
It's winter.
It's cold and depressing and the stupid holidays are literally around the corner.
My name is Kasey Summers and I think maybe I need to be that girl. I need to put Summer to rest and get on with the next season of my career. The eulogy should have been said a long, long time ago. I need to embrace reality and like REO Speedwagon said… roll with the changes. No masks anymore, no lies. I have allies now. I have someone who loves me, who supports me no matter what. There's nothing to hold me back. This is the way it should have always been. Time to purge it all… by fire.
Smoke inhalation's for the birds – pun and groan intended.
See, when I clawed my way back into this business, I was hoping that it had stayed perfectly on pause, that the moment was just waiting for me to pick it back up. Things are weird now, the business more about how much skin you can show on social media on any given day and less about the skill or the talent or even anything you can say to promote yourself and the company you work for.
A woman who never speaks has been on a tear across the landscape of Empire and I'm still here in the kiddie pool trying to learn how to dog paddle. I'm never going to have an epic match with Molly Reid that people will be talking about. I'm bound to crash and burn again and this time maybe I'll get to take Bri Davenport with me. Maybe I'll get to find out what it's like to run with a prize for a little while – even the broken clock gets to be right twice a day, after all. So I'm stuck here with a huge box of tissues, my humidifier going and….well, it's only Wednesday. Hopefully by Friday I'm better and if not, maybe I'll drop dead before I hit the ring.
I need sleep. I can't. The more I think, the worse it gets. My confinement is solitary tonight (my apologies to Jax, who I stole that line from) and I've never felt so alone. I don't feel like I can talk about this with anyone, especially not with Ak because I don't want to seem weak when I'm supposed to have it all figured out. I can do this. I know I can because I've done it before.
A big part of me wants to call this too little, too late, to burn the place to the ground on principle. Where was my singles opportunity months ago? Why all these group clusterfucks? Why did you push me and Jenson together as a team?
Was this all a test?
I don't like that. I don't even like thinking that. I just want to feel confident again and I don't think I'm ever going to find that. I don't think I will ever throw myself off the highest heights without hesitating long enough to make sure it's safe – what a bullshit relative term that is. Broken bones and blood in my mouth and bruises fading various shades of the rainbow can never really be considered 'safe'. Compared to death? To dismemberment? I suppose they're better. And I suppose it's stupid to spend time writing out my feelings like I'm some lovestruck geeky teenager pining for that elusive football jock she can never have. Whoops. Too much information, right?
I just want to cry because I'm so damned frustrated. Maybe FFW was a fluke, this sheltered little place where garbage wrestlers like Fujiko Mine could carve out a niche but girls like me and Samantha Tolson were victimized, ostracized and cast out. They didn't hold a place for me. I wasn't important enough.
All this time, that's all I've ever really wanted to be.
I know I need to grow up, to let that go. The past belongs there, dead and buried. Bridges burned behind me so I will stop mentally crossing back and watching how the world got on without me. I need to legitimately pull the firebird trick instead of walking the same path over and over again.
I am not immune to making stupid mistakes. Never was because I am impulsive. I don't think before I act usually. I've been trying hard to correct that.
Every day is a little better and now I feel like maybe what I mistook for growth was really just me fleeing, distancing myself from the problem. Gradually, I'm getting used to the idea of no longer being a champion in some backwater wrestling promotion. Don't get me wrong. It was amazeballs to be the FFW Television champion and I loved every second of it, but I think that injury happened for a reason. I lost the belt for a reason.
Summer's gone.
It's winter.
It's cold and depressing and the stupid holidays are literally around the corner.
My name is Kasey Summers and I think maybe I need to be that girl. I need to put Summer to rest and get on with the next season of my career. The eulogy should have been said a long, long time ago. I need to embrace reality and like REO Speedwagon said… roll with the changes. No masks anymore, no lies. I have allies now. I have someone who loves me, who supports me no matter what. There's nothing to hold me back. This is the way it should have always been. Time to purge it all… by fire.
