Post by adm on Sept 10, 2011 9:24:55 GMT -6
I am following the shadow of my former self.
As I walk this lonely road of shame.
Hiding who I am, losing my self.
What am I becoming?
"I'm sorry, but I don't think you are treatable, Mr. Bates."
The words came out of Marcus Bachmann's lips like acid. He is not even looking at him, his eyes focused on the photograph of his wife.
"Aren't there other methods?"
"Yes, there is shock therapy, there are pills one can take to try and subdue the urges. But the point I'm making, is that the side effects of those are more likely to make you more of a liability in the long run. You're already becoming one. With the race heating up, I have to keep my high-profile a little lower, and you're not helping matters. You are also one of the most incurable cases of this addiction I've EVER seen."
"But you told me you could fix me."
"I was optimistic." He turns to Bates and glares, "Too optimistic."
The room falls silent as Kristoff Liam Bates tries to come to grips with being told he is "incurable". This isn't cancer, this isn't a disease that will kill him. This is a mental affliction, an emotional addiction. This is, something he cannot even bring himself to say due to the fear of persecution in his job.
"Listen," he is pleading, begging, getting up to implore. "I cannot be like this, and hold my job with the same credibility. I can't let them know the truth. I can't expose the layers and layers of lies."
"Then don't, you don't have to expose the lies. You can continue to hide if you will. But I recommend, against my better judgment, that you don't lie. You need to start being honest. With yourself, and your coworkers."
He falls to the chair, tears beginning to form in his eyes as the despair mixed with rage begins.
"YOU SAID YOU COULD CURE ME!!!!"
Bates gets up and begins to lunge at Bachmann, but stops. A wicked smile comes over his face.
"Haha. HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Bachmann is disturbed by this sudden turn of events. Kristoff is not smiling and laughing in sanity. He is laughing like a maniac. He grabs the diploma, framed from the walls of the office, and breaks it over his head. The glass digs into his forehead and blood begins to come out.
"Look, Mr. Bachmann. I'm CURED!"
As the blood runs down his face, Marcus is calling for assistance as Bates continues to take the decor of the room and smash it over his head and body. He is deliberately inflicting wounds. Punishing himself for his addiction.
"Yes, he's gone straight up crazy. SEND SOMEONE NOW!"
****
There is nothing I'd like better than to be honest, Danny. You wear your mask, that covers your face. I wear a mask of lies. The lies that restrict my freedom. Because your freedom is a sham, one you can claim comes guilt-free because of your hidden identity. However, your successes are also hidden. Anyone can take over your role, and none would really notice. There could be a different "Danny" every week, and nobody would know it. You could be a legion, an army, of youngsters trying to get into the business, all trading the same getup every week to get into the ring with the best. Or you could be an aging man, ready to retire, afraid to let his family know he's still doing this. Whatever your reason, whoever you are, you are hiding the TRUTH. And freedom, only comes from truth.
****
"Kris, are you sure you're ok?"
Johnathan is across the table from Kristoff in the suite of a hotel room. He flew in from San Francisco to meet Bates in Philadelphia. He also paid for the large room to try and get his friend to come down from the last few days of losing it in his room. There are bandages on Bates' forehead from where he broke the diploma of one Marcus Bachmann over his head.
Kristoff Liam Bates, nCw wrestler and former Xtreme and Honor champion, is silent as his friend taps his fingers on the table, looking over him.
"Listen, I know you're not ok. I know you're not going to be ok. I know that the minute I leave you alone I'm going to get a call from room service tomorrow that they found your body dangling from the steam pipes or the lighting fixture by your tie. That's how I got into this mess, isn't it?"
Bates doesn't even move, his eyes are solemn and without light. The flame has died down to a single speck as he stares at a single spot of intricacy in the wood. John isn't having it, and waves his hand before the eyes of his friend. Bates raises his head and cocks it to the side almost like the victim of a recent stroke.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself. You can't decide that you want to run out into traffic. You can't just try to jump off a bridge. You can't just try to ride off into the sunset early like a stupid emo teenager with a My Chemical Romance record and a pack of razors."
The bad joke doesn't even elicit a smile from the stone face of Bates. John shakes his head, and we fade out.
****
You're free, Danny, to be "victorious" like V from that movie you so eloquently quoted. You could go on and wear your mask and not care who is underneath it for a decade or more. I don't really care, the point of the matter, is not really that. The point, is are you free? Are you free, Danny V? Well, are you? I don't think you truly are. For a man to truly be free, he must be able to take any and all punishment for his actions without regret or remorse. That is freedom. To know that the intent of what you do is so righteous in your mind that you can stand against an army for what you have done.
Now I also admit that such thoughts brought about the events of Ten Years Ago, 9/11. I also admit that Hitler thought like this. But, were these men not free? Though evil, dastardly, and vicious in their crimes against other humans, were they NOT FREE? I believe they were, possibly too free, if there is such a thing. But they were free. Free to act how they saw fit. Free of morals and ethics, as well, I'm sure. Something they probably should have taken up with Jean Paul Sartre or Friedrich Nietzsche.
I am also free to continue my charade, to try and come across as some "average Joe". I'm not. I have TRIED so hard to be NORMAL, but I am not really. I am not normal. I am not perfect, I am flawed. I am human. And even with your mask, you are too.
So I guess, tomorrow night. We will see who the more flawed human is. Whether the mask will hide yours, or enhance them. Because, after all, everybody is free. Free to do as they please and feel good. Free to wear sunscreen. So please, don't forget your sunscreen.
****
"Are you going to talk to me."
The scene is unchanged. As is Bates' expression.
"I know you are in there. Come out Kris. Come out."
A mild smile comes out of the corners of Kristoff's mouth. A tear streams down the sides of his face.
"I...think I'm ready to tell the truth now."
"To me? I already know."
"No...to the world...to everyone..."
John gets up and hugs his friend. Bates takes a deep breath.
"I'm...free. And I'm also..."
Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.
John F. Kennedy
As I walk this lonely road of shame.
Hiding who I am, losing my self.
What am I becoming?
"I'm sorry, but I don't think you are treatable, Mr. Bates."
The words came out of Marcus Bachmann's lips like acid. He is not even looking at him, his eyes focused on the photograph of his wife.
"Aren't there other methods?"
"Yes, there is shock therapy, there are pills one can take to try and subdue the urges. But the point I'm making, is that the side effects of those are more likely to make you more of a liability in the long run. You're already becoming one. With the race heating up, I have to keep my high-profile a little lower, and you're not helping matters. You are also one of the most incurable cases of this addiction I've EVER seen."
"But you told me you could fix me."
"I was optimistic." He turns to Bates and glares, "Too optimistic."
The room falls silent as Kristoff Liam Bates tries to come to grips with being told he is "incurable". This isn't cancer, this isn't a disease that will kill him. This is a mental affliction, an emotional addiction. This is, something he cannot even bring himself to say due to the fear of persecution in his job.
"Listen," he is pleading, begging, getting up to implore. "I cannot be like this, and hold my job with the same credibility. I can't let them know the truth. I can't expose the layers and layers of lies."
"Then don't, you don't have to expose the lies. You can continue to hide if you will. But I recommend, against my better judgment, that you don't lie. You need to start being honest. With yourself, and your coworkers."
He falls to the chair, tears beginning to form in his eyes as the despair mixed with rage begins.
"YOU SAID YOU COULD CURE ME!!!!"
Bates gets up and begins to lunge at Bachmann, but stops. A wicked smile comes over his face.
"Haha. HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Bachmann is disturbed by this sudden turn of events. Kristoff is not smiling and laughing in sanity. He is laughing like a maniac. He grabs the diploma, framed from the walls of the office, and breaks it over his head. The glass digs into his forehead and blood begins to come out.
"Look, Mr. Bachmann. I'm CURED!"
As the blood runs down his face, Marcus is calling for assistance as Bates continues to take the decor of the room and smash it over his head and body. He is deliberately inflicting wounds. Punishing himself for his addiction.
"Yes, he's gone straight up crazy. SEND SOMEONE NOW!"
****
There is nothing I'd like better than to be honest, Danny. You wear your mask, that covers your face. I wear a mask of lies. The lies that restrict my freedom. Because your freedom is a sham, one you can claim comes guilt-free because of your hidden identity. However, your successes are also hidden. Anyone can take over your role, and none would really notice. There could be a different "Danny" every week, and nobody would know it. You could be a legion, an army, of youngsters trying to get into the business, all trading the same getup every week to get into the ring with the best. Or you could be an aging man, ready to retire, afraid to let his family know he's still doing this. Whatever your reason, whoever you are, you are hiding the TRUTH. And freedom, only comes from truth.
****
"Kris, are you sure you're ok?"
Johnathan is across the table from Kristoff in the suite of a hotel room. He flew in from San Francisco to meet Bates in Philadelphia. He also paid for the large room to try and get his friend to come down from the last few days of losing it in his room. There are bandages on Bates' forehead from where he broke the diploma of one Marcus Bachmann over his head.
Kristoff Liam Bates, nCw wrestler and former Xtreme and Honor champion, is silent as his friend taps his fingers on the table, looking over him.
"Listen, I know you're not ok. I know you're not going to be ok. I know that the minute I leave you alone I'm going to get a call from room service tomorrow that they found your body dangling from the steam pipes or the lighting fixture by your tie. That's how I got into this mess, isn't it?"
Bates doesn't even move, his eyes are solemn and without light. The flame has died down to a single speck as he stares at a single spot of intricacy in the wood. John isn't having it, and waves his hand before the eyes of his friend. Bates raises his head and cocks it to the side almost like the victim of a recent stroke.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself. You can't decide that you want to run out into traffic. You can't just try to jump off a bridge. You can't just try to ride off into the sunset early like a stupid emo teenager with a My Chemical Romance record and a pack of razors."
The bad joke doesn't even elicit a smile from the stone face of Bates. John shakes his head, and we fade out.
****
You're free, Danny, to be "victorious" like V from that movie you so eloquently quoted. You could go on and wear your mask and not care who is underneath it for a decade or more. I don't really care, the point of the matter, is not really that. The point, is are you free? Are you free, Danny V? Well, are you? I don't think you truly are. For a man to truly be free, he must be able to take any and all punishment for his actions without regret or remorse. That is freedom. To know that the intent of what you do is so righteous in your mind that you can stand against an army for what you have done.
Now I also admit that such thoughts brought about the events of Ten Years Ago, 9/11. I also admit that Hitler thought like this. But, were these men not free? Though evil, dastardly, and vicious in their crimes against other humans, were they NOT FREE? I believe they were, possibly too free, if there is such a thing. But they were free. Free to act how they saw fit. Free of morals and ethics, as well, I'm sure. Something they probably should have taken up with Jean Paul Sartre or Friedrich Nietzsche.
I am also free to continue my charade, to try and come across as some "average Joe". I'm not. I have TRIED so hard to be NORMAL, but I am not really. I am not normal. I am not perfect, I am flawed. I am human. And even with your mask, you are too.
So I guess, tomorrow night. We will see who the more flawed human is. Whether the mask will hide yours, or enhance them. Because, after all, everybody is free. Free to do as they please and feel good. Free to wear sunscreen. So please, don't forget your sunscreen.
****
"Are you going to talk to me."
The scene is unchanged. As is Bates' expression.
"I know you are in there. Come out Kris. Come out."
A mild smile comes out of the corners of Kristoff's mouth. A tear streams down the sides of his face.
"I...think I'm ready to tell the truth now."
"To me? I already know."
"No...to the world...to everyone..."
John gets up and hugs his friend. Bates takes a deep breath.
"I'm...free. And I'm also..."
Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.
John F. Kennedy