Post by Ayla St. James on Oct 20, 2013 5:31:57 GMT
Ok, sorry if I burst anyones bubble this week, but frankly.. I don't care. This is going to be short, sarcastic, probably way too bitchy for my own good, but at this point in time, and I'm going to say this really slowly so you can all understand...
I... do... not... give... a... fuck...
Understand now? Oh, I'm sorry that I'm not the person you want me to be, Amber. So terribly sorry that my career is unraveling faster than a Kardashian marriage, and you want me to be better. So sorry that I haven't been able to sleep more than an hour at a time and due to that it's a little hard to focus on simply staying awake, much less a frickin DDT. So unbelievably sorry that the almighty Amber Richards is disappointed in me..
...Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on.
It's kind of funny how you brought up the whole family aspect. Like I'm supposed to be nicer to you because of it. I extended you professional courtesy the first go round. I know the men who trained you, and because they saw something in you that made them do so, I didn't question it.
That didn't make us friends, "sisters" or anything other than casual aquaintances. And yet, there you were, launching into this long lecture about my life and how it should be. Convienently omitting that even though you proposed this sisterhood notion, you have done absolutely nothing to help me. Not one word of encouragement, a phone call, a fucking tweet..
NOTHING.
And you want to slander the names of Kyle Braddock and Angel Blake? You don't even deserve to speak their names, much less count them as your trainers.
But, it's whatever.. I don't care.. don't care about what you think, what you want, or what you think you know. You want to run by me for the Diamonds title, have fun.. all I ask is you either attempt to help me.. or shut the fuck up about my life..
You know something Ana, I was this close to apologizing for calling you Ashley the last time we had a match together. Though I was just as frazzled then as I am now, I wasn't going to use that as an excuse.
Now, I could easily just say that I did it because there's no difference between the two of you.
I know, I know, right now you're saying that I don't have room to talk because you're this great wrestler and I don't belong in the ring with you.
Wonderful, of course, it's your opinion, and frankly, I don't give a shit. You could fade away tomorrow into obscurity, and there'd just be some other self entitled tramp in your place like a Trish Newborn or.. who was that trillion dollar idiot? Oh, yea, Angel Kash.
You're not perfect, you're not amazing.. hell you're not even unique. You're just a chick riding a hot streak and using that to inflate your ego like porn stars use silicone to inflate their ta-tas. It won't last forever, and stopping short of killing us isn't the answer..
The answer, is not being a sore ass winner.
Understanding that you're not perfect, or invincible.. leads to a hall of fame career. Pretending otherwise, leads you to being on "where are they now" in 20 years.
This isn't my opinion, this is fact. Don't want to see it? Sounds like that's not my problem.
You girls want to fight it out like dogs for a shot at Jessica? Knock yourselves out..
Literally, I could use a good laugh.
I just don't give a fuck anymore...
Whatever,
Love, Ayla.
-----------------------------------
{Nothing but blackness, the impenetrable dark. Somewhere, someone was screaming..}
Why are you doing this..?
Because I love it.. and I know deep down, so do you.
{Another tortured scream.}
I.. I don't.. this isn't me at all..
Oh it is.. just relax and let it go.
{A hiss that sounded like flesh burning, and a scream that slowly turned into a moan.}
..Wh.. Why..?
Just shut up and enjoy it you bitch!
But..
I said shut up!
{Something that sounds like a whip cracking.}
Ooooohhh yea.. just like that.
Please stop...
{Then, laughter. The Laughter of madness.}
Never... But don't worry, it'll be over soon enough.
I... do... not... give... a... fuck...
Understand now? Oh, I'm sorry that I'm not the person you want me to be, Amber. So terribly sorry that my career is unraveling faster than a Kardashian marriage, and you want me to be better. So sorry that I haven't been able to sleep more than an hour at a time and due to that it's a little hard to focus on simply staying awake, much less a frickin DDT. So unbelievably sorry that the almighty Amber Richards is disappointed in me..
...Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on.
It's kind of funny how you brought up the whole family aspect. Like I'm supposed to be nicer to you because of it. I extended you professional courtesy the first go round. I know the men who trained you, and because they saw something in you that made them do so, I didn't question it.
That didn't make us friends, "sisters" or anything other than casual aquaintances. And yet, there you were, launching into this long lecture about my life and how it should be. Convienently omitting that even though you proposed this sisterhood notion, you have done absolutely nothing to help me. Not one word of encouragement, a phone call, a fucking tweet..
NOTHING.
And you want to slander the names of Kyle Braddock and Angel Blake? You don't even deserve to speak their names, much less count them as your trainers.
But, it's whatever.. I don't care.. don't care about what you think, what you want, or what you think you know. You want to run by me for the Diamonds title, have fun.. all I ask is you either attempt to help me.. or shut the fuck up about my life..
You know something Ana, I was this close to apologizing for calling you Ashley the last time we had a match together. Though I was just as frazzled then as I am now, I wasn't going to use that as an excuse.
Now, I could easily just say that I did it because there's no difference between the two of you.
I know, I know, right now you're saying that I don't have room to talk because you're this great wrestler and I don't belong in the ring with you.
Wonderful, of course, it's your opinion, and frankly, I don't give a shit. You could fade away tomorrow into obscurity, and there'd just be some other self entitled tramp in your place like a Trish Newborn or.. who was that trillion dollar idiot? Oh, yea, Angel Kash.
You're not perfect, you're not amazing.. hell you're not even unique. You're just a chick riding a hot streak and using that to inflate your ego like porn stars use silicone to inflate their ta-tas. It won't last forever, and stopping short of killing us isn't the answer..
The answer, is not being a sore ass winner.
Understanding that you're not perfect, or invincible.. leads to a hall of fame career. Pretending otherwise, leads you to being on "where are they now" in 20 years.
This isn't my opinion, this is fact. Don't want to see it? Sounds like that's not my problem.
You girls want to fight it out like dogs for a shot at Jessica? Knock yourselves out..
Literally, I could use a good laugh.
I just don't give a fuck anymore...
Whatever,
Love, Ayla.
-----------------------------------
{Nothing but blackness, the impenetrable dark. Somewhere, someone was screaming..}
Why are you doing this..?
Because I love it.. and I know deep down, so do you.
{Another tortured scream.}
I.. I don't.. this isn't me at all..
Oh it is.. just relax and let it go.
{A hiss that sounded like flesh burning, and a scream that slowly turned into a moan.}
..Wh.. Why..?
Just shut up and enjoy it you bitch!
But..
I said shut up!
{Something that sounds like a whip cracking.}
Ooooohhh yea.. just like that.
Please stop...
{Then, laughter. The Laughter of madness.}
Never... But don't worry, it'll be over soon enough.
Well howdy there pardner.