Post by doc on Apr 29, 2010 4:59:56 GMT -6
Come on...please...
Just a few hours. Please. I can't take this any more.
That's all I need. A few hours of sleep and I promise I wont be restless or grumpy tomorrow. I'll be nice and sprightly.
...
What more can I do? I'm training my ass off on a few hours of sleep per night, coming home exhausted and not sleeping. It's like torture. I'm so tired that I can't even explain to you how I feel right now. How the hell am I supposed to train again tomorrow? The human body isn't supposed to suffer something like this.
And my thoughts? My head is messed up. Everything that runs through it makes no sense to me right now. I need sleep.
Please.
Just a few hours.
A Night to Remember. The biggest night on the nCw calender, right? Should suit me perfectly. I'm supposed to be the one who always raises his game - the better the opponent, the better the performance. That's the idea, anyway.
I've never really been one to succumb to pressure. Nah, that was never my curse. I've seen many great athletes reach the big stage and collapse. The opposite was always true for me. But I have my own demons.
And they're lurking around my still body right now, watching me, taunting me. Willing me to fail so that they can laugh at me, tell me how right they were all along. My demons try to convince me to look up wrestling message boards on the internet, or to buy magazines with the "inside scoop". All so I can read how these "experts" predict my downfall. That's what the demons want. They feed off every negative emotion in my body. And they're hungry.
I'm used to that kind of doubt - but I've never understood it. At first, sure, I was a little guy in a land of giants, struggling to hold his own. But you reach a plateau in this business where you stop caring what other people think. They have absolutely no reason to doubt or question me. All I've done since I got here is win. What more do they want from me? These people are so fickle, so naive.
Well, that's not strictly true, is it?
I haven't been winning all the time. Not thanks to Mr. Machado and Mr. Honcho. Not thanks to Mr. du Lac.
Oh, how I wish I could get my hands on him right now. Just to end it, all of it. I need closure, revenge, for my loss. I need to punish Seph for how he has punished me. I need to end it all, just for one night's sleep.
The demons? They don't want me to sleep. Of course not. They love Seph, they champion him. And not because he uses big words to make himself seem more intelligent than he actually is. Not because he provides a quick-fix of Buffy the Vampire Slayer every time he cuts a promo. Not because he lurks in the shadows until the end of every week, desperate for that last word. But because he has made a fool of me in front of the entire world. He was not only the cause of an agonising defeat, he was also the cause of much humiliation. I left the announce table to set the record straight with this guy, and he left me alone, lying flat on my back, looking up, but seeing nothing.
The same torture which haunts me every night.
But every morning that I feel tired and weak yet push myself through more training is a morning that I hate Seph even more. I don't want to wait until A Night to Remember.
I want Seph, now.
I need Seph now, because I need relief from my demons.
I throw the blanket off my body and get up out of my bed. I know there's something that can help me lurking somewhere. I move quickly, a lion pouncing on its prey. I enter my bathroom and open the medicine cabinet, where I begin to scan the bottles.
Valium. Perfect.
I'll just take a couple of these an- ...what the hell, a couple more will do the trick. Just to be sure, you know? Because you can never be too sure. Never too sure.
I fill a glass with water in my bathroom sink, but before I can swallow the pills, I feel compelled to stare in to the mirror.
Look at yourself, Doc. Is this what you've become? Hopeless, helpless? Turning to drugs to solve your problems? You've travelled this road before. Drugs, alchohol, cigarettes. You swore you would never go back. Never.
Is that how much Seph has got to you? You want to break a promise you made to yourself, a promise made to improve every aspect of your life, just because you can't get to sleep before a match with this guy? Are you going to give up on yourself? Are you going to let him win before the match even begins? On you go, Doc...be weak. Be a coward. This is what you want, isn't it? Just a good night's sleep?
Well on you go. Nothing's stopping you.
It's only diazepam, right? Nothing too major. Just something to chill me out. Not going to set me back down that path again. Right?
Come on Doc, what are you waiting for? You've already admitted defeat just by standing here with those pills in your hand. Seph has already won, he's already broken you. Go on, finish the job. Take the *** damn pills already.
What the hell are you waiting for?! Look at yourself! Look at those pathetic, tired eyes! Look at them closely, and tell me what you see! You see a coward, don't you? That's right, a coward! That's what you are Doc, a coward! Swallow the pills, you ****ing coward!!! Swallow them!!!
I look down at my right fist, and it's clenched, and bleeding. The glass from my mirror has smashed in to my sink, and some of it has left my hand a bloody mess.
Did I punch the mirror?
I look down at my left hand, and in my palm are four blue pills. What the hell are they doing there? I'm supposed to be off that crap. I toss them away, and look in disbelief again at the remains of my mirror.
Last thing I remember I was lying in bed, begging for a few hours of sleep.
My right hand is trembling now. I don't know whether it's from the pain and blood loss, or from the anxiety flooding through my entire body.
What's happening to me?
Just a few hours. Please. I can't take this any more.
That's all I need. A few hours of sleep and I promise I wont be restless or grumpy tomorrow. I'll be nice and sprightly.
...
What more can I do? I'm training my ass off on a few hours of sleep per night, coming home exhausted and not sleeping. It's like torture. I'm so tired that I can't even explain to you how I feel right now. How the hell am I supposed to train again tomorrow? The human body isn't supposed to suffer something like this.
And my thoughts? My head is messed up. Everything that runs through it makes no sense to me right now. I need sleep.
Please.
Just a few hours.
A Night to Remember. The biggest night on the nCw calender, right? Should suit me perfectly. I'm supposed to be the one who always raises his game - the better the opponent, the better the performance. That's the idea, anyway.
I've never really been one to succumb to pressure. Nah, that was never my curse. I've seen many great athletes reach the big stage and collapse. The opposite was always true for me. But I have my own demons.
And they're lurking around my still body right now, watching me, taunting me. Willing me to fail so that they can laugh at me, tell me how right they were all along. My demons try to convince me to look up wrestling message boards on the internet, or to buy magazines with the "inside scoop". All so I can read how these "experts" predict my downfall. That's what the demons want. They feed off every negative emotion in my body. And they're hungry.
I'm used to that kind of doubt - but I've never understood it. At first, sure, I was a little guy in a land of giants, struggling to hold his own. But you reach a plateau in this business where you stop caring what other people think. They have absolutely no reason to doubt or question me. All I've done since I got here is win. What more do they want from me? These people are so fickle, so naive.
Well, that's not strictly true, is it?
I haven't been winning all the time. Not thanks to Mr. Machado and Mr. Honcho. Not thanks to Mr. du Lac.
Oh, how I wish I could get my hands on him right now. Just to end it, all of it. I need closure, revenge, for my loss. I need to punish Seph for how he has punished me. I need to end it all, just for one night's sleep.
The demons? They don't want me to sleep. Of course not. They love Seph, they champion him. And not because he uses big words to make himself seem more intelligent than he actually is. Not because he provides a quick-fix of Buffy the Vampire Slayer every time he cuts a promo. Not because he lurks in the shadows until the end of every week, desperate for that last word. But because he has made a fool of me in front of the entire world. He was not only the cause of an agonising defeat, he was also the cause of much humiliation. I left the announce table to set the record straight with this guy, and he left me alone, lying flat on my back, looking up, but seeing nothing.
The same torture which haunts me every night.
But every morning that I feel tired and weak yet push myself through more training is a morning that I hate Seph even more. I don't want to wait until A Night to Remember.
I want Seph, now.
I need Seph now, because I need relief from my demons.
I throw the blanket off my body and get up out of my bed. I know there's something that can help me lurking somewhere. I move quickly, a lion pouncing on its prey. I enter my bathroom and open the medicine cabinet, where I begin to scan the bottles.
Valium. Perfect.
I'll just take a couple of these an- ...what the hell, a couple more will do the trick. Just to be sure, you know? Because you can never be too sure. Never too sure.
I fill a glass with water in my bathroom sink, but before I can swallow the pills, I feel compelled to stare in to the mirror.
Look at yourself, Doc. Is this what you've become? Hopeless, helpless? Turning to drugs to solve your problems? You've travelled this road before. Drugs, alchohol, cigarettes. You swore you would never go back. Never.
Is that how much Seph has got to you? You want to break a promise you made to yourself, a promise made to improve every aspect of your life, just because you can't get to sleep before a match with this guy? Are you going to give up on yourself? Are you going to let him win before the match even begins? On you go, Doc...be weak. Be a coward. This is what you want, isn't it? Just a good night's sleep?
Well on you go. Nothing's stopping you.
It's only diazepam, right? Nothing too major. Just something to chill me out. Not going to set me back down that path again. Right?
Come on Doc, what are you waiting for? You've already admitted defeat just by standing here with those pills in your hand. Seph has already won, he's already broken you. Go on, finish the job. Take the *** damn pills already.
What the hell are you waiting for?! Look at yourself! Look at those pathetic, tired eyes! Look at them closely, and tell me what you see! You see a coward, don't you? That's right, a coward! That's what you are Doc, a coward! Swallow the pills, you ****ing coward!!! Swallow them!!!
I look down at my right fist, and it's clenched, and bleeding. The glass from my mirror has smashed in to my sink, and some of it has left my hand a bloody mess.
Did I punch the mirror?
I look down at my left hand, and in my palm are four blue pills. What the hell are they doing there? I'm supposed to be off that crap. I toss them away, and look in disbelief again at the remains of my mirror.
Last thing I remember I was lying in bed, begging for a few hours of sleep.
My right hand is trembling now. I don't know whether it's from the pain and blood loss, or from the anxiety flooding through my entire body.
What's happening to me?