Post by Eliza Valentine on Apr 4, 2015 9:44:31 GMT
I never knew my Mother, Wolverina... Tell me, what's it like to have one?
To have the woman who bore you smile down on you as though you are perfect, blinded in love to your many glaring flaws... Tell me, please... Whisper to my ear the feeling of adulation at know that your dearest, most wonderful mother cannot see the failure you are; So you beat Mercedes Vargas... Who hasn't? You also fell to the twins; two women so flat and stiff that they would be better used as tables for the announcers than wrestlers...
Share with me Wolvie... If you will, how wonderful and comforting it is to know that no matter how often you fail... No matter how little promise or skill you show; she will still hug you tightly, kiss your cheeks and tell you, you are good, you are worthy... You're going to be a star...
Perhaps, if my words are kind enough - you will whisper to me the security of knowing she will nurse the injuries of your upcoming loss... The calm of feeling her with you always, her smile the thing you see when your eyes flutter closed after I knock you out...
I never knew my mother, Wolverina... But I know victory and so, I shall have that instead.
“If you couldn't be loved, the next best thing was to be left alone.” ― L.M. Montgomery
My only friend inside the cold walls of the orphanage, a tiny red headed girl named Samantha cuddled up beside me in our hiding place... Her freckled cheeks scrunched up, creasing around her eyes with an expression of suspense and fear... The click of the nuns shoes on the floor caused a shiver to run through her... I pulled Samantha behind me and stood, my head popping up from behind the old oak dresser....
Sister Mary Margaret span on her heels at the sight of me, swishing her cane through the air with a shriek "Come out of there at once you wicked child!" ....her cheeks were ruddy and red, her eyes bulged as they always do when she is angry and small globs of spittle landed on the floor as she waved the Cane with more emphasis than before...
"But sister..." I mutter, glancing down quickly to ensure Samantha stays hidden... "I didn't know it was sinful..."
I slink out from behind the dresser, my words seeming to only anger her further as her hands shake, she points at a spot in front of her silently and I hang my head, moving to my appointed spot without word, her boney old hand wraps in my hair and she yanks on it, eliciting a shriek I can't hold in... This seems to satisfy her...
"Vanity is a sin child and you know it!" she yanked again, harder this time and tears spring to my eyes "You, preening and pouting like the whore of babylon herself! Have you no shame?!"
I wanted to tell her I did, but my tiny, malnourished too small for my twelve year old self frame rattled as she yanked my hair again and I could not trust myself to open my mouth and offer her any more than the pathetic whimper she undoubtedly craved...
"Well then..." she replied to my silence rather smugly... I thought to myself how her smugness surely was as much of a sin as my 'preening' as she called it... God's hands my butt I yelled in my head, defiance still brewing.. "If you do not have any shame with which to repent... I shall teach you a lesson..."
I heard Samantha's tiny gasp... A sorrowful sob of a whimper as Sister Mary Margaret pulled me from the room... Quiet I thought, don't let her hear you...
"Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you." - Loretta Young
I get it Wolverina, you want to be the fan favourite the sweetie with a heart of gold who saved all those poor orphans.... Well, from one orphan... Fuck You!
You didn't do that stuff because you're a good person, you did those things to alleviate the guilt you feel at having a good, normal, happy life... You did those things because you want to feel better about who you are AND most likely... So you can use it to prove you are better than everyone else...
I am the voice for the downtrodden and the forgotten, I am the voice of the lost and unwanted and WE are telling you, we do not need your pity.
You want to make it in the wrestling world Wolvie? Stop trying to prove you are goodest of all goodie two shoes that ever two shoed and fucking fight... Get in that ring and give it everything, all that you have; come at me and prove me wrong... No one thinks you can do it - I might be a rookie with five minutes training but girl my record speaks for itself...
Unlike Mercedes and Alexis... I can actually back up what little ego I have... Because unlike these failures of the division; I actually show up and win matches!
I have won more matches than you have even been in, sweetie... You are the underdog here, you are the one walking into the fight with all eyes on you... You are the one who has something to prove, doesn't that sting a little? Doesn't that get at you deep down in your Big ole heart?!
Wolverina, the girl who rides bulls and can take a hit... Is the Underdog against a street kid with two weeks training and a muscle percentage of about .5%
That's the thing here Wolvie... I know my weaknesses, I know I ain't the strongest or the biggest... I know if I try and ger technical when we throw down, you're gonna put me on my ass every damn time... So I learned to be fast, I learned to know my opponents and see their moves before the make them... You can knock me on my ass chica but I will bounce right back up to put you on yours...
I won't win this fight because I am better than you, I will win this fight because I WANT this... Because wrestling IS my life, I came here with a goal - to find infamy and show the world that coming from nothing doesn't mean you can't be something... I came here to show every girl I have had to leave behind in places and circumstances they are too good for... That no matter what anyone says...
It really does get better.
"The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread." - Mother Teresa
I sat in the hard backed chair and stared out into the eyes of the children circled around me, all of their eyes saw the same and pleaded it back at me... Fear and longing, longing to be loved, to be touched tenderly, to be told they are special, that they are good... That we are not sinful and that God loves us, in his infinite wisdom, for we are Children and Children are without sin...
I remind myself of the times I have heard that in church and study... I wonder why the Sisters do not practice this with us... I wonder what we have done to make us wretched, to make all of us 'child' without a name... Without anything and sorry for the sins that prevented our mothers from loving us...
Sister Mary Margaret is grinning now, the large shears in her hand clink and snap shut as she toys with them, ensuring every one of us knows this is a punishment for my treacherous sin...
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
Long blonde curls fall to the floor around me like ashes and my body burns with a mix of anger and shame, so hot it is like I am burned as a witch, my hands tremble so I grip the bottom of the chair... I won't let her see it, I hold it in and stare out into those hollow eyes.
They need to know there is hope, they need to see we can survive this and so I choke down the tears that rise and press against my eyeballs so firmly I worry one of my eyes may pop out and roll across the floor... I laugh inside as I imagine the horror on Sister Mary Margaret's face as my fallen eye ball stared up at her from the floor.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
And if that is true, then I know only one thing for certain... If there is a god, he hates Orphans.
And we hate him too.
"If fear is the great enemy of intimacy, love is its true friend." - Henri Nouwen
I am not going to threaten to destroy you Wolverina... I don't believe that extremist trash talk is something that we need to do, that anyone needs to do... A failing division that is party to it's own crimes is the one we are a part of - and do you know why?
Take a look at the women we are supposed to want to be, liars and cheats... They fuck and they steal, they try and end careers... They look to inflict pain in the name of a shiny trinket, to be called the best - to be good you have to do good... They have Championships and accolades... But they are not good, they just are...
But if that's what does it for you, then go ahead... Be the next one to tell me you will destroy me... snarl about how you will make me bleed; act completely out of yourself; the smiley people's favourite will melt away to an angry sneer as you talk of how you till tear me apart... Break bones, limbs even! Sell your bravado to everyone else whose looking to buy...
You won't be the first to threaten... And you won't be the first to fail.
I don't wanna hurt you Wolvie, soy serio, blood on your hands never washes away and though she forgave me my slight, what I did to Lizzie is something I cannot ever take back - so I will beat you clean for her, for every man, woman and child ever beat down in the name of pride...
I don't want to spill your blood, I just want to take your pride - there is no better trophy than a three count Wolverina and that is all I am after... I hope you can respect that.
Maybe then I can respect you... I doubt it, but maybe.
Look at the women I have faced, the women I have beaten... You are a step down, you are in the kiddie pool with your floaties on whilst I keep on climbing to the ladder to the big diving board.. Tonto, you really think that you can threaten me? Or that you can do some tea party passive aggressive sweetie pie bullshit?
Jessica Reed called, she wants her bit back.
You can fake being the nice girl all you want, it won't help you... You are a pathetic attention seeking, barely talented hack who has stumbled her way into this promotion and needs to stumble her way right back out again - Oh and before you even think of doing some tired bit where you have an "Eliza" in your promo, remember this..
There's only one of me, bitch.
I am an original, 100% street rat authenticity and unlike you - I don't need to go around borrowing ideas and lines from other entirely more popular stars... Have fun with being the tribute act though sweetheart... Get to work on some Cosplay skills and who knows, maybe Verona will hire you to do appearances...
Meanwhile I'll be here, still kicking ass... And next is yours.
"Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here." - Marianne Williamson
Samantha snuck up to me, wrapping her tiny arms around me, she hugged me in the darkness of the dorm... I had been strong. I had been good...
I had stood after she left and collected all of my curls, depositing them in the bin before turning to their eyes, lost and willing, needing guidance... Needing love and so I loved them... I kissed each and promised that one day I would be big and important and on that day... I would come back and save them all...
I promised...
"Shhhh" she whispers as she pets what's left of my hair... It's hard to believe we are twelve and thirteen... She is so much smaller than me and I have seen other girls my age through barred windows and I know I am small... Weedy and insignificant. But not to her...
She catches the tears on my cheeks and wipes them away and we lie like that for hours, her holding me in the darkness whilst I sob... I cry for the things I have lost... I cry for my hair, for my dignity... I cry for my smile and most painfully, I cry for my mother...
"I never knew my mother" I sigh into her red hair, the weight of losing someone I never even had bearing down on my like it could crush me at any moment... How do you miss something you never had? Someone you never knew?
It's easy really.. When you have nothing, it's far too easier to miss something you never had, than wish for something you will never have...
It is quiet for a long time before she sighs "Be grateful..." she turns to look at me and the pain in her eyes turns my blood to ice "I knew mine all too well."
And silence falls, there is nothing more to be said and we do not want to be sad, we do not want to be sinful, we just want to be... And so we do, we lie like that again, holding each other in the dark until the sun is nearly rising and then, with a kiss so soft and warm, she leaves me to climb back into her own bed... My fingertip touches my lip...
My name is Eliza, I am twelve years old, I never knew my mother... And that was my first kiss.
Well howdy there pardner.