Post by Keira Hunter on Aug 7, 2017 4:03:49 GMT
There’s certain things in this world that you just come to expect.
Now I know what you’re thinking…
As you gaze forward, waiting for the next words to emanate from my lips, you see me in all my eighteen years of glory, standing rather plainly, a pair of black jeans and a cutoff black and gray striped crop top, rather simple apparel while still donning my tone, pale midriff for the world to see. My right hand is planted in the center of my chest as I continue on with my explanation.
You’re thinking, “What does she know? She’s eighteen years old for Christ's sake.
I roll my eyes, I can’t help but hate the assuming world and their more negative views on the things that make this planet go round.
Yes, I have a very limited amount of life experience compared to some, but let’s be honest, some of those people haven’t done a single thing with those life experiences. They haven’t put them to good use, they haven’t learned from them, and they sure as hell aren’t better people because of them.
No.
As a matter of fact, a lot of those people take those experiences and throw them out the window. They use age as a way to garner respect. They use the amount of time they’ve been on this earth to proclaim themselves ever the wiser than my generation and I can’t help but shake my head in a dismissing fashion because honestly...they’re all wrong.
Age doesn’t mean any of that. Age doesn’t garner you respect, especially in this world. Word to the supposed wise, you get respect when you give it. Respect my elders? I respect my parents and their parent on an everyday basis, but some old lady in the street better not think she’s smarter than me because she’s hunched over a walker, otherwise, she’s likely to get a piece of my mind.
I take a deep breath. I need to recollect my thoughts as a tangent wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing at this point in time. I look up at the camera lense aimed at me and I narrow my gaze.
So while I may not have the age, and the assumed wisdom, I do have my own thoughts, my own vision, and my own way of going about things, and while a lot of the world doesn’t like it, I quite frankly couldn’t care a single bit about them or hurting their feelings, because hey, let’s face it...that’s the story of my life right?
People see my dark hair or my pale skin, or my labeled “gothic” way of life and they can’t stand it and just assume I’m a lawless degenerate roaming the streets when in fact I am so much more.
I shake my head in dismay. I told you, I hate the assuming public, and the fact that it’s so easy to make a mockery of them is ridiculous.
I’m not a lawless degenerate, I’m an agent of change. A voice for those who are too afraid to speak up for themselves. If a girl like me can shine in the spotlight, what’s stopping the rest from following in my footsteps? If a girl wants to be dark, be dark. If a guy wants to wear a dress, don’t worry about the rest of the world, be you. I don’t care what makes you different, as a matter of fact, scratch that term “different”. It’s used as a way to set you apart, and send you into a group of outcast…
NO!
Use the word “unique”. It sounds better. It makes you one of a kind...it makes you...you. You’re the kind of person I stand up and fight for even at such a young age, because I refuse to let the assuming public win.
I point down to the floor in front of me.
Which brings me to this week. I know, I know, that was a lot, but I promise it has a juicy ending and it all starts with the Hollywood Harlot herself...Crystal Millar who ASSUMES that because we live in the same city...we can relate. I hate to break this to you airhead, but nearly four million people live in this city...and I guarantee you that not many of them are alike...and neither are we.
Crystal, I don’t want to be mean, but honestly, I need to tell the truth here. I’m eighteen years old. I guess I’m pretty to some, but to others I’m a freak. You don’t have that problem...other than that whole six-head thing you have going on under that hair...eesh. I have aspirations bigger than you’ve ever seemed to be able to get to in your life.
Crystal, I’m not here just to be here. I’m not in the IWF just to say I’m the youngest wrestler in the room. I want to be the best one here. I want to do things like win the Heiress to the Throne and become Diamonds Champion.
What I don’t want to do Crystal, what I don’t inspire to be, and this is where I tell the truth, and I’m sorry if it hurts. I don’t want to be you. I don’t want to be the one talked about years from now about unfulfilled potential. I don’t want to hear my name spoken of in vein because I got as high as the Shieldmaiden Championship only to watch my star fade into the distance, never to be heard or seen from again.
I point into the camera.
That’s where you are now, and I’m sorry. You’re a hell of a wrestler Crystal. I’ve stood over in the shadows and watched you compete, and I know you give it your every last drop of sweat, your every last tear, and your every last breath if you could, but Crystal, there’s just so much more for you. People would talk about you in wrestling school and they’d wonder why you couldn’t be more like Paige Garcia...you know, shoot to the top and win. They wanted to know why you got SO close to the brass ring presented to you in all of it’s imaginary glory, only to watch it slip from your grasp. They wanted to know why you could never break through the glass ceiling.
I hold my hands to my chest in a pleading fashion.
I don’t have the answers to their questions Crystal. I can’t even answer them for you. What I can say with all certainty is that we are not only alike as far as personality, as far as physical appearance, as far as attitude, but our reasons for being in the Heiress to the Throne differ as well. I’m in it to ascend. I’m in it to win it, to rise above the competition set in front of me. I want to be the next big thing.
You?
You’re trying to be the thing...you should have been.
I couldn’t help but let a little smirk peel over my lips. I’m really not one to be mean, but I am always one to tell the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts, as in the instance just now. Sometimes...it really feels good to tell the truth. I turn back to the camera.
And speaking of ones who “should have been”, there’s someone else in this match who “should have been” and she goes by the name Fiona McFly. A couple years back I hear that you were the Iron Maiden, in fact, I believe you were spouting off about it when I first got here. So I thought to myself, maybe I should scout my competition. I should learn her holds, and the counters to them so that when I come across this great warrior, this former champion, I could be prepared for everything and anything she’s going to throw at me, and I can shock the world.
Imagine how disappointed I was when I saw that you were none of those things Fiona. Yes, Iron Maiden, a feat that should be applauded. Then what? You faced Eternity, and much like Crystal before you, you smacked up against that glass ceiling and simply couldn’t break it even with the might of a God, if you actually possessed it.
I sigh. I really was disappointed, as Fiona is another of the long list of possible “it” characters that just couldn’t cut the mustard when it truly mattered.
You don’t get it Fiona. I was excited. I wanted to take on that champion, and then to find out it was you, and you were nowhere near what I expected you to be. It was like someone stabbing me in the chest with the coldest of knife blades, twisting it until they slashed at every artery leading into my cold, blackened heart.
You Fiona, might actually be a rung below Crystal in this world we call wrestling, and here I go with the truth again, I’m going to tell you why. You just didn’t stick. It doesn’t matter what you try, nor how many times you try it, your half baked reinventions of yourself lead you to absolutely nowhere, and it pains not only me to watch it, but the viewers at home who are force fed this crap because the IWF doesn’t have anything better to do with their air time.
And now you’re singing.
Another roll of the eyes as this is almost too much.
You’re an example of what I’m trying to combat in our world Fiona. You, the ever-willing conformist, out to supposedly strike her own path, only to turnaround and walk the same paved roads as all who have come before her.
YOU’RE WHO I’M REACHING OUT TO!
Stop it! Stop it NOW!
Stop trying to be what everyone thinks you should be. Stop being someone new month in and month out. Pick something you’re good at, learn about it all you can, and execute to the highest of your abilities.
Again...as I tell the rest of the world Fiona, it’s okay to be YOU! So do me a favor, you too Crystal. Show up at Sacrifice. Bring the best game you have. Leave the monikers, and the bedazzled jackets, and the wannabe singing pipes at home because at the end of the day, we’re not here for any of that. At the end of the day we’re here to wrestle, and wrestle is what we’re going to do. Win...is what I’m...going...to do.
WHAT I LEARNED
It was the first day of school after my makeover over the summer and boy was it a bad day. My boyfriend broke up with me, I had to reassess my priorities and see that I could be me, I could live life my way, and I was going to do so.
I was walking up the sidewalk to my house and as I walked up the driveway I saw my father digging nearby, presumably to help my mother plant a garden of some sort. He looked up at me, the sweat dripping from his forehead in the intense California sun.
”Hey sweetie! How was your first day?”
I just turned toward him with a tilt of the head downward, my pupils glaring through my dark outlined eyes. He got the message. My father was one to take things in stride. He didn’t necessarily approve of my new look, but he knew that I was my own person and had to do things a certain way. He nodded and went back to digging as I continued up the walkway to the front door.
”That good huh?”
I grabbed hold of the handle and walked into the house. Rather than going through the same riveting conversation with my mother, I headed right upstairs, and almost escaped until I heard her calling up at me.
”Keira, sweetie, how was your first day?”
”Mom, Scott broke up with me, and I’d like to just go sit in my room.”
Before she could answer I headed up the last few steps and walked into my room, closing the door behind me. I laid on the bed and just sat there in silence. That didn’t last long.
The walls in our house weren’t exactly soundproof and I could hear my father come into the house from outside. His footsteps headed over to where my mother was, and though muffled, I could understand to a point what they were talking about, and of course...it was me.
”Is that why she’s dressing like that? Did he break up with her before school?”
”I’m sure it’s not a big deal. She’ll figure it out. No...don’t…”
Before he could finish, I could hear her footsteps heading up the same stairway I had just navigated up to my room. Then there was a subtle knock at the door. She then slowly pushed it open.
”Keira, do you want to talk about it?”
”No Mom, it’s fine.”
Clearly, me saying no didn’t matter.
”This happens to the best of us hunny.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
”Mom, I said I don’t want to talk about it. He made his decision, and I’ve already moved on.”
She seemed a little shocked by the statement.
”Oh? Okay then...how about we talk about something you learned at school.”
I was fed up. I wanted to be alone. My mind was my own little fortress, but I couldn’t get in with the constant interruption. I sat up on the bed, smoothing my skirt.
”You want to know what I learned? It was a great lesson about today’s society. I learned that a lot of people can’t accept something totally different. I learned that the term “freak” is tossed about way too much.”
”Sweetie, I-”
”No wait Mom, there’s more, and it does get better, I promise. I learned as I sat in a corner for the beginning of first period, out of class, not caring, that I am much stronger than I ever portrayed myself to be. I learned that I’m done taking people’s crap, and I’m done trying to be the little princess of social high schoolism they want me to be. I’m going to be me, and if that’s not enough for them, too bad!”
She wasn’t expecting that at all. She stood from the bed a bit unnerved.
”Well then, that seems to be a lot more than I remember learning. I’ll let you be. Dinner will be ready in a couple hours.”
”Okay Mom.”
She left the room, the latch of the door clicking, allowing me that peace and relaxation I yearned for. I sat up against the pillows stacked up against the headboard. I didn’t bother with music, or the television. I just closed my eyes and let the day soak in.
Now I know what you’re thinking…
As you gaze forward, waiting for the next words to emanate from my lips, you see me in all my eighteen years of glory, standing rather plainly, a pair of black jeans and a cutoff black and gray striped crop top, rather simple apparel while still donning my tone, pale midriff for the world to see. My right hand is planted in the center of my chest as I continue on with my explanation.
You’re thinking, “What does she know? She’s eighteen years old for Christ's sake.
I roll my eyes, I can’t help but hate the assuming world and their more negative views on the things that make this planet go round.
Yes, I have a very limited amount of life experience compared to some, but let’s be honest, some of those people haven’t done a single thing with those life experiences. They haven’t put them to good use, they haven’t learned from them, and they sure as hell aren’t better people because of them.
No.
As a matter of fact, a lot of those people take those experiences and throw them out the window. They use age as a way to garner respect. They use the amount of time they’ve been on this earth to proclaim themselves ever the wiser than my generation and I can’t help but shake my head in a dismissing fashion because honestly...they’re all wrong.
Age doesn’t mean any of that. Age doesn’t garner you respect, especially in this world. Word to the supposed wise, you get respect when you give it. Respect my elders? I respect my parents and their parent on an everyday basis, but some old lady in the street better not think she’s smarter than me because she’s hunched over a walker, otherwise, she’s likely to get a piece of my mind.
I take a deep breath. I need to recollect my thoughts as a tangent wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing at this point in time. I look up at the camera lense aimed at me and I narrow my gaze.
So while I may not have the age, and the assumed wisdom, I do have my own thoughts, my own vision, and my own way of going about things, and while a lot of the world doesn’t like it, I quite frankly couldn’t care a single bit about them or hurting their feelings, because hey, let’s face it...that’s the story of my life right?
People see my dark hair or my pale skin, or my labeled “gothic” way of life and they can’t stand it and just assume I’m a lawless degenerate roaming the streets when in fact I am so much more.
I shake my head in dismay. I told you, I hate the assuming public, and the fact that it’s so easy to make a mockery of them is ridiculous.
I’m not a lawless degenerate, I’m an agent of change. A voice for those who are too afraid to speak up for themselves. If a girl like me can shine in the spotlight, what’s stopping the rest from following in my footsteps? If a girl wants to be dark, be dark. If a guy wants to wear a dress, don’t worry about the rest of the world, be you. I don’t care what makes you different, as a matter of fact, scratch that term “different”. It’s used as a way to set you apart, and send you into a group of outcast…
NO!
Use the word “unique”. It sounds better. It makes you one of a kind...it makes you...you. You’re the kind of person I stand up and fight for even at such a young age, because I refuse to let the assuming public win.
I point down to the floor in front of me.
Which brings me to this week. I know, I know, that was a lot, but I promise it has a juicy ending and it all starts with the Hollywood Harlot herself...Crystal Millar who ASSUMES that because we live in the same city...we can relate. I hate to break this to you airhead, but nearly four million people live in this city...and I guarantee you that not many of them are alike...and neither are we.
Crystal, I don’t want to be mean, but honestly, I need to tell the truth here. I’m eighteen years old. I guess I’m pretty to some, but to others I’m a freak. You don’t have that problem...other than that whole six-head thing you have going on under that hair...eesh. I have aspirations bigger than you’ve ever seemed to be able to get to in your life.
Crystal, I’m not here just to be here. I’m not in the IWF just to say I’m the youngest wrestler in the room. I want to be the best one here. I want to do things like win the Heiress to the Throne and become Diamonds Champion.
What I don’t want to do Crystal, what I don’t inspire to be, and this is where I tell the truth, and I’m sorry if it hurts. I don’t want to be you. I don’t want to be the one talked about years from now about unfulfilled potential. I don’t want to hear my name spoken of in vein because I got as high as the Shieldmaiden Championship only to watch my star fade into the distance, never to be heard or seen from again.
I point into the camera.
That’s where you are now, and I’m sorry. You’re a hell of a wrestler Crystal. I’ve stood over in the shadows and watched you compete, and I know you give it your every last drop of sweat, your every last tear, and your every last breath if you could, but Crystal, there’s just so much more for you. People would talk about you in wrestling school and they’d wonder why you couldn’t be more like Paige Garcia...you know, shoot to the top and win. They wanted to know why you got SO close to the brass ring presented to you in all of it’s imaginary glory, only to watch it slip from your grasp. They wanted to know why you could never break through the glass ceiling.
I hold my hands to my chest in a pleading fashion.
I don’t have the answers to their questions Crystal. I can’t even answer them for you. What I can say with all certainty is that we are not only alike as far as personality, as far as physical appearance, as far as attitude, but our reasons for being in the Heiress to the Throne differ as well. I’m in it to ascend. I’m in it to win it, to rise above the competition set in front of me. I want to be the next big thing.
You?
You’re trying to be the thing...you should have been.
I couldn’t help but let a little smirk peel over my lips. I’m really not one to be mean, but I am always one to tell the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts, as in the instance just now. Sometimes...it really feels good to tell the truth. I turn back to the camera.
And speaking of ones who “should have been”, there’s someone else in this match who “should have been” and she goes by the name Fiona McFly. A couple years back I hear that you were the Iron Maiden, in fact, I believe you were spouting off about it when I first got here. So I thought to myself, maybe I should scout my competition. I should learn her holds, and the counters to them so that when I come across this great warrior, this former champion, I could be prepared for everything and anything she’s going to throw at me, and I can shock the world.
Imagine how disappointed I was when I saw that you were none of those things Fiona. Yes, Iron Maiden, a feat that should be applauded. Then what? You faced Eternity, and much like Crystal before you, you smacked up against that glass ceiling and simply couldn’t break it even with the might of a God, if you actually possessed it.
I sigh. I really was disappointed, as Fiona is another of the long list of possible “it” characters that just couldn’t cut the mustard when it truly mattered.
You don’t get it Fiona. I was excited. I wanted to take on that champion, and then to find out it was you, and you were nowhere near what I expected you to be. It was like someone stabbing me in the chest with the coldest of knife blades, twisting it until they slashed at every artery leading into my cold, blackened heart.
You Fiona, might actually be a rung below Crystal in this world we call wrestling, and here I go with the truth again, I’m going to tell you why. You just didn’t stick. It doesn’t matter what you try, nor how many times you try it, your half baked reinventions of yourself lead you to absolutely nowhere, and it pains not only me to watch it, but the viewers at home who are force fed this crap because the IWF doesn’t have anything better to do with their air time.
And now you’re singing.
Another roll of the eyes as this is almost too much.
You’re an example of what I’m trying to combat in our world Fiona. You, the ever-willing conformist, out to supposedly strike her own path, only to turnaround and walk the same paved roads as all who have come before her.
YOU’RE WHO I’M REACHING OUT TO!
Stop it! Stop it NOW!
Stop trying to be what everyone thinks you should be. Stop being someone new month in and month out. Pick something you’re good at, learn about it all you can, and execute to the highest of your abilities.
Again...as I tell the rest of the world Fiona, it’s okay to be YOU! So do me a favor, you too Crystal. Show up at Sacrifice. Bring the best game you have. Leave the monikers, and the bedazzled jackets, and the wannabe singing pipes at home because at the end of the day, we’re not here for any of that. At the end of the day we’re here to wrestle, and wrestle is what we’re going to do. Win...is what I’m...going...to do.
WHAT I LEARNED
It was the first day of school after my makeover over the summer and boy was it a bad day. My boyfriend broke up with me, I had to reassess my priorities and see that I could be me, I could live life my way, and I was going to do so.
I was walking up the sidewalk to my house and as I walked up the driveway I saw my father digging nearby, presumably to help my mother plant a garden of some sort. He looked up at me, the sweat dripping from his forehead in the intense California sun.
”Hey sweetie! How was your first day?”
I just turned toward him with a tilt of the head downward, my pupils glaring through my dark outlined eyes. He got the message. My father was one to take things in stride. He didn’t necessarily approve of my new look, but he knew that I was my own person and had to do things a certain way. He nodded and went back to digging as I continued up the walkway to the front door.
”That good huh?”
I grabbed hold of the handle and walked into the house. Rather than going through the same riveting conversation with my mother, I headed right upstairs, and almost escaped until I heard her calling up at me.
”Keira, sweetie, how was your first day?”
”Mom, Scott broke up with me, and I’d like to just go sit in my room.”
Before she could answer I headed up the last few steps and walked into my room, closing the door behind me. I laid on the bed and just sat there in silence. That didn’t last long.
The walls in our house weren’t exactly soundproof and I could hear my father come into the house from outside. His footsteps headed over to where my mother was, and though muffled, I could understand to a point what they were talking about, and of course...it was me.
”Is that why she’s dressing like that? Did he break up with her before school?”
”I’m sure it’s not a big deal. She’ll figure it out. No...don’t…”
Before he could finish, I could hear her footsteps heading up the same stairway I had just navigated up to my room. Then there was a subtle knock at the door. She then slowly pushed it open.
”Keira, do you want to talk about it?”
”No Mom, it’s fine.”
Clearly, me saying no didn’t matter.
”This happens to the best of us hunny.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
”Mom, I said I don’t want to talk about it. He made his decision, and I’ve already moved on.”
She seemed a little shocked by the statement.
”Oh? Okay then...how about we talk about something you learned at school.”
I was fed up. I wanted to be alone. My mind was my own little fortress, but I couldn’t get in with the constant interruption. I sat up on the bed, smoothing my skirt.
”You want to know what I learned? It was a great lesson about today’s society. I learned that a lot of people can’t accept something totally different. I learned that the term “freak” is tossed about way too much.”
”Sweetie, I-”
”No wait Mom, there’s more, and it does get better, I promise. I learned as I sat in a corner for the beginning of first period, out of class, not caring, that I am much stronger than I ever portrayed myself to be. I learned that I’m done taking people’s crap, and I’m done trying to be the little princess of social high schoolism they want me to be. I’m going to be me, and if that’s not enough for them, too bad!”
She wasn’t expecting that at all. She stood from the bed a bit unnerved.
”Well then, that seems to be a lot more than I remember learning. I’ll let you be. Dinner will be ready in a couple hours.”
”Okay Mom.”
She left the room, the latch of the door clicking, allowing me that peace and relaxation I yearned for. I sat up against the pillows stacked up against the headboard. I didn’t bother with music, or the television. I just closed my eyes and let the day soak in.
Well howdy there pardner.