Post by Caleb Lockwood on Mar 22, 2021 4:21:49 GMT
"Getting old is a bitch, kids. Don’t do it."
A wry smile paints Caleb’s face as he looks down into his hands, the replica title belt that IWF issues to its champions, the replica of the Men’s World Title, his name still on the plate. He drums his fingertips across the face of the plate, shaking his head softly. "I’m older than my parents ever were. I’ve seen more life than they ever did. And it hurts. Not just the knowledge that I’ve lapped them on this mortal coil, but the road miles. The fact that I’ll never get to see them old and grey. But that happens all the time. I appreciate that I’ve had a longer run than they did. And hopefully, they appreciate it too...no matter how it hurts to go on sometimes."
Cracking his neck, Caleb grits his teeth. "No matter the pain twinging through my body, the frustration pulsing through my veins, I have to be the one to cut the head off of the false savior myself and throw it at his feet. And maybe, just maybe, when he sees the light gutter and die, the way he’s seen one god die before, maybe then he’ll realize that he can’t get everything." Caleb steeples his fingers with a hollow smirk. "He’ll feel the hurt that I’ve felt, deep down inside, the abandonment and the shattering of dreams. Nobody gets a happy ending, not completely. You always have to pay the price, no matter how long you can put it off. And the longer you wait, the worse it is. So I’ll save you the mounting interest."
"I’m going to win the Roulette," Caleb exhales through his nose, "and not just because I want to be able to put this…" He taps the replica title twice with his fingertips. "Back on the shelf. Not just because I want to see the light at the top of the mountain once more, unburdened by James fucking Gilmore and his quest for...whatever it is he quests for. No, I want to do this because I have hungered for the apex, the true apex, for so long. From the deepest pits of despair, where I had nothing, to the greatest reward, on the greatest stage. And I know the man who holds that title now has some words on that front. But he also knows just how much I want this."
"Warren, you know I won’t spare you. Your feelings, your love, your hope." Caleb actually seems slightly choked up in the moment, shaking his head softly. "We’ve both wanted this since the first time we laced up a pair of boots, and we’ve both fucking bled for it, my friend. But as I said, none of us get a truly happy ending. You don’t get it all. The acclaim, the love of the man you care for more than anyone else. Life isn’t nice enough to make you stop paying with your old man. They didn’t stop with my parents, either. I’m not out here to hurt you...but I want what I want, and if I have to hurt you to get there, then I’m going to do it."
"Because that’s life," Caleb bites his upper lip, hands gripping the belt tight. "Life is painful and sorrowful and it makes us choose between the things that make us the happiest. I know I can’t have it all either. So we’ll see where things go. But to even get to you, I need to rip through the field. I need to win this match. I need to break twenty-nine other hearts. I’m not too good for it, I’m not too proud for it, I’ve never been able to pretend that I could care more about someone else’s happiness than getting my own piece of the pie."
"So that’s what I’m going to be." Caleb sighs, setting his title aside and out of the small cone of light shining down on him. "The bitter, miserable monster hiding under everyone’s bed, lurking in the shadows. It’s the role I’m best at, It’s where I feel the most at home. And if I can shut off the little voices that tell me to pretend, to care, to bleed when you bleed, then I won’t have to worry. I won’t have to care about the memories, the late nights staring up at the sky, reassuring each other that we’ll have each other’s backs." He closes his eyes again, laying back in the light and soaking in it for a moment. "I won’t have to care that there are people in this match who, every time I hurt them, I’ll be ripping out a little bit of myself."
"No, I can be the monster." Caleb sits up abruptly, eyes opening. "Because the monster became a champion. The monster became THE champion. And nothing, no happy-go-lucky dipshit, no blind devotee of a false god, no blast from the past, no monster in my closet, wolf at the door…" Caleb pauses for a moment. "No lost brother can stop me. Care is a promise of pain delayed. So if I don’t care about any of you, about what I do to you...then I feel no pain. And if I feel no pain, then I don’t stop pushing. That’s the way I make that title my own once more."
He nods to himself, closing his eyes once more. "I’ve been static for far too long. Letting the bestial fear inside rule my life. Denying myself the natural pull of my path, trying to be the same as I’ve been. Refusing to change. Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken." Inhaling deeply through his nose, Caleb’s eyes open, briefly shining like those of a beast before settling into his natural, cold stare. "And so he shall."
A wry smile paints Caleb’s face as he looks down into his hands, the replica title belt that IWF issues to its champions, the replica of the Men’s World Title, his name still on the plate. He drums his fingertips across the face of the plate, shaking his head softly. "I’m older than my parents ever were. I’ve seen more life than they ever did. And it hurts. Not just the knowledge that I’ve lapped them on this mortal coil, but the road miles. The fact that I’ll never get to see them old and grey. But that happens all the time. I appreciate that I’ve had a longer run than they did. And hopefully, they appreciate it too...no matter how it hurts to go on sometimes."
Cracking his neck, Caleb grits his teeth. "No matter the pain twinging through my body, the frustration pulsing through my veins, I have to be the one to cut the head off of the false savior myself and throw it at his feet. And maybe, just maybe, when he sees the light gutter and die, the way he’s seen one god die before, maybe then he’ll realize that he can’t get everything." Caleb steeples his fingers with a hollow smirk. "He’ll feel the hurt that I’ve felt, deep down inside, the abandonment and the shattering of dreams. Nobody gets a happy ending, not completely. You always have to pay the price, no matter how long you can put it off. And the longer you wait, the worse it is. So I’ll save you the mounting interest."
"I’m going to win the Roulette," Caleb exhales through his nose, "and not just because I want to be able to put this…" He taps the replica title twice with his fingertips. "Back on the shelf. Not just because I want to see the light at the top of the mountain once more, unburdened by James fucking Gilmore and his quest for...whatever it is he quests for. No, I want to do this because I have hungered for the apex, the true apex, for so long. From the deepest pits of despair, where I had nothing, to the greatest reward, on the greatest stage. And I know the man who holds that title now has some words on that front. But he also knows just how much I want this."
"Warren, you know I won’t spare you. Your feelings, your love, your hope." Caleb actually seems slightly choked up in the moment, shaking his head softly. "We’ve both wanted this since the first time we laced up a pair of boots, and we’ve both fucking bled for it, my friend. But as I said, none of us get a truly happy ending. You don’t get it all. The acclaim, the love of the man you care for more than anyone else. Life isn’t nice enough to make you stop paying with your old man. They didn’t stop with my parents, either. I’m not out here to hurt you...but I want what I want, and if I have to hurt you to get there, then I’m going to do it."
"Because that’s life," Caleb bites his upper lip, hands gripping the belt tight. "Life is painful and sorrowful and it makes us choose between the things that make us the happiest. I know I can’t have it all either. So we’ll see where things go. But to even get to you, I need to rip through the field. I need to win this match. I need to break twenty-nine other hearts. I’m not too good for it, I’m not too proud for it, I’ve never been able to pretend that I could care more about someone else’s happiness than getting my own piece of the pie."
"So that’s what I’m going to be." Caleb sighs, setting his title aside and out of the small cone of light shining down on him. "The bitter, miserable monster hiding under everyone’s bed, lurking in the shadows. It’s the role I’m best at, It’s where I feel the most at home. And if I can shut off the little voices that tell me to pretend, to care, to bleed when you bleed, then I won’t have to worry. I won’t have to care about the memories, the late nights staring up at the sky, reassuring each other that we’ll have each other’s backs." He closes his eyes again, laying back in the light and soaking in it for a moment. "I won’t have to care that there are people in this match who, every time I hurt them, I’ll be ripping out a little bit of myself."
"No, I can be the monster." Caleb sits up abruptly, eyes opening. "Because the monster became a champion. The monster became THE champion. And nothing, no happy-go-lucky dipshit, no blind devotee of a false god, no blast from the past, no monster in my closet, wolf at the door…" Caleb pauses for a moment. "No lost brother can stop me. Care is a promise of pain delayed. So if I don’t care about any of you, about what I do to you...then I feel no pain. And if I feel no pain, then I don’t stop pushing. That’s the way I make that title my own once more."
He nods to himself, closing his eyes once more. "I’ve been static for far too long. Letting the bestial fear inside rule my life. Denying myself the natural pull of my path, trying to be the same as I’ve been. Refusing to change. Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken." Inhaling deeply through his nose, Caleb’s eyes open, briefly shining like those of a beast before settling into his natural, cold stare. "And so he shall."
Well howdy there pardner.