Post by adm on Jun 2, 2011 23:14:00 GMT -6
They say nobody ever really leaves once you've found your home. Perhaps that's right. Perhaps it's just that I've become a hollow shell of a man with no dignity left and maybe I'm looking to restore myself to something, anything. Probably not.
Listen, I could try to come back. But who wants to see an aging Kristoff Liam Bates do a Swingline Stapler Press on the latest and hottest young kid off the block? Nobody. Who wants to see him put the World Champion in the Suffocating Cubicle and finally win the belt? Not a soul. Who wants to see him tear the **** out of his old enemies who are still around? Maybe some stupid kid from Canada, but what does he matter. Nobody ever cared about me, and they still don't.
****
Lightning streaks across the skies as a torrent of rain falls. The streets are empty, and the oncoming storms could bring more than just this rain to the glass and erect metal of the city. The Midwest, much like the rest of the United States, has been decimated by bad weather lately, and there isn't a single city immune.
"All I can say is that my life is pretty plain. I like to watch the puddles gather rain."
The familiar voice of Kristoff Liam Bates trickles down the streets like the water off the nearest building. There is a long hint of sorrow in his voice, as if there is something missing in his life that he is trying to recapture. The glory days are gone, and as his frame comes into picture, we realize he has gained a little weight. The rain has soaked him to the bone, but yet he seems not to care. A bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, lighting up the dim and dark street and the eyes of the fallen warrior. He is not the same bates many once knew. He is someone different, a broken man looking for his light.
"Someone take these dreams away, that lead me to another day. A duel of personalities..."
His voice cracks, and he falls to his knees in a puddle of water. Bates stares deep into the reflection, trying to find the soul of the man he once was.
"What has become of you? Where did the monster go? Did he die and be sent to Hell? Did Gib take him away in your last match when you lost for good? What the hell happened?"
No answers to be found, as dry and barren as a desert are his thoughts. The destitution he has allowed his attire to sink into, you would almost swear he was homeless. The only thing allowing you to realize he is not a derelict, is that he still carries a briefcase around, and obviously his clothes are not so disheveled he is without roof to sleep under.
"You gave everything to that place. You gave up your job in Silicon Valley. You gave up your family. You gave up your second love life. You gave up blood, sweat, and countless alcohol-induced tears. What have you become? A shell of a man. Broken and looking for the dawn. When will the dawn come? When?"
Vibration. The cell phone jitters in the pocket of his suit against the briefcase next to him.
"Hello? Yes...why would you even bother? I'm a broken man. There is no future, no history left to get out of me? Listen...I...I need time. Just give me a few days to think it over. Thank you...for not forgetting about me."
The cell phone clicks shut, and Bates leans back in the rain, beginning to laugh as tears mix with the torrents of rain falling upon his face. His eyes have cleared, but the clouds of depression still mingle with the steel blue. A glimmer of hope has been restored. Where it goes, only time will tell.
"In My End is My Beginning." - T.S. Eliot
Listen, I could try to come back. But who wants to see an aging Kristoff Liam Bates do a Swingline Stapler Press on the latest and hottest young kid off the block? Nobody. Who wants to see him put the World Champion in the Suffocating Cubicle and finally win the belt? Not a soul. Who wants to see him tear the **** out of his old enemies who are still around? Maybe some stupid kid from Canada, but what does he matter. Nobody ever cared about me, and they still don't.
****
Lightning streaks across the skies as a torrent of rain falls. The streets are empty, and the oncoming storms could bring more than just this rain to the glass and erect metal of the city. The Midwest, much like the rest of the United States, has been decimated by bad weather lately, and there isn't a single city immune.
"All I can say is that my life is pretty plain. I like to watch the puddles gather rain."
The familiar voice of Kristoff Liam Bates trickles down the streets like the water off the nearest building. There is a long hint of sorrow in his voice, as if there is something missing in his life that he is trying to recapture. The glory days are gone, and as his frame comes into picture, we realize he has gained a little weight. The rain has soaked him to the bone, but yet he seems not to care. A bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, lighting up the dim and dark street and the eyes of the fallen warrior. He is not the same bates many once knew. He is someone different, a broken man looking for his light.
"Someone take these dreams away, that lead me to another day. A duel of personalities..."
His voice cracks, and he falls to his knees in a puddle of water. Bates stares deep into the reflection, trying to find the soul of the man he once was.
"What has become of you? Where did the monster go? Did he die and be sent to Hell? Did Gib take him away in your last match when you lost for good? What the hell happened?"
No answers to be found, as dry and barren as a desert are his thoughts. The destitution he has allowed his attire to sink into, you would almost swear he was homeless. The only thing allowing you to realize he is not a derelict, is that he still carries a briefcase around, and obviously his clothes are not so disheveled he is without roof to sleep under.
"You gave everything to that place. You gave up your job in Silicon Valley. You gave up your family. You gave up your second love life. You gave up blood, sweat, and countless alcohol-induced tears. What have you become? A shell of a man. Broken and looking for the dawn. When will the dawn come? When?"
Vibration. The cell phone jitters in the pocket of his suit against the briefcase next to him.
"Hello? Yes...why would you even bother? I'm a broken man. There is no future, no history left to get out of me? Listen...I...I need time. Just give me a few days to think it over. Thank you...for not forgetting about me."
The cell phone clicks shut, and Bates leans back in the rain, beginning to laugh as tears mix with the torrents of rain falling upon his face. His eyes have cleared, but the clouds of depression still mingle with the steel blue. A glimmer of hope has been restored. Where it goes, only time will tell.
"In My End is My Beginning." - T.S. Eliot