And Everything In Between
Feb 24, 2023 7:17:08 GMT
Casanova English, Jonathan Bacchus, and 1 more like this
Post by Emily Regal on Feb 24, 2023 7:17:08 GMT
It has become a swirling vortex all around me. The loudest white noise but instead of making me sleepy, I feel wired. Adrenaline spikes through my body whenever the winding begins. It is too much and everything is so loud.
Break it down, Emily, I tell myself. Just think it through. Separating the pieces: First comes training. Get that done, follow through, improve my time, improve my weight, lift more, move faster, endure heavy hits, and perfect the movements. Then comes the rest of my day to sign up for classes. Begin the prep work, find the right programs, and figure out the timing so I don’t burn out. Before I have a chance there is a small voice in my head repeating everything else. The “needs”...I need to be strong. I need to be the best. I need to make this work. I need to protect my family. I need to win this match. I need—
“I know what you’re thinking…I can’t do this. There is absolutely no way that this rookie can pull off this upset. We’ve got her records here, and sure, it’s cute she thinks she can. We are all rooting for her to go out there and do a good job. All I need to do is just do my best and walk out holding a participation ribbon.”
“Let’s face it, compared to Jacob and Johnny, I’m the one who has everything to win off this match. Losing is run-of-the-mill stuff so no one would really bat an eye. I’d probably settle somewhere in the line because that would go according to plan. It’s the easiest thing in the world to discredit me. What I have or have not done swiftly defines what I *can* do. A massive pitfall at the end of the street if you ask me. Let’s be upfront, you don’t know me. There are guesses, sure, but when it comes down to the moment, who knows but me?
It is a new feeling to have all the cards in my hand. I feel like we are playing a game of high-risk poker. All staring across the table trying to sort out who has it, who doesn’t, and when the right time to strike is. If you fold too soon then you might give someone else the winnings. It takes a keen eye but it is also following your gut. I’ve never been good at cards, but gambling? My gut has never steered me wrong there.”
I need to win because I’m watching this sport try to consume people I care about. They think they are protecting me, they think it will help, but this sport did nothing for them. It took chunks and injured them so they had to take years to mend it all up. Ever hungry maw… Which made people wonder why the heck I wanted to be a wrestler in the first place. There is a vast collection of reasons why. In this current situation, it runs as follows: If I can prove that there’s no need to worry then I won’t have to watch helplessly, while they get hurt.
I love my sister too much to just let shit happen to her. Right now, I can’t do anything but watch from the sidelines. That is the only thing I could ever do!
"No, Emily, just watch from here where it is safe.”
Fuck that! When I prove that I can beat these two men then I can challenge anyone. It doesn’t have to make sense to everyone else. I don’t give a fuck if anyone has an issue with my motivations.
“Everyone in this match has their own needs or the sharks will come to collect. Jacob *needs* to keep that title. Johnny *needs* to seize it. Which makes sense to him. I’ve been on the hunt for Johnny but he is a rare find. I know so little about what he is doing here in CULT that it almost feels a bit unfair. From what I’ve learned, that’s just how the cookie crumbles. Sometimes you don’t get a whole bunch on the person across the ring. Right now I’m watching him, waiting to see what he has. Everyone has a plan, it seems. So what is yours, Johnny? Let’s say in an ideal world you take the Cult Classic in your hands then what? It isn’t just enough to get into my face telling me that *I’m* not winning. It never will be. What made you suddenly appear like a ghost coming at Jacob? I know more about Eavan. Her intentions were very clear that she would break the champion before he even had a chance to defend the title. Trying to make a name and prove that she is better. Is that your play? Johnny, it’s like you popped out of the wall. I know you held a tag title a while back. I know what your little blurb offers up but that doesn’t paint a full picture. I’d like to know more about the person who I’m going to beat for this title.”
“We don’t always get everything we want. As followed, I know a boring way to pose it– You have enough skill to hold gold. You are dangerous. No one likes when they put effort into forming a plan just to have it blow up in their face. No need in understanding what it is because you’ll knock me off course to achieve this victory. In the end, that’s all I need to know. All you need to know is this: after the end, you’re going to need a new drawing board.”
Does this feeling of being on the edge of a cliff ever go away? I keep questioning if this feeling will go away. Is it possible to take a clear, deep breath? Even after you reach the heights, does it feel satisfying or do you notice a large mountain in the distance? There are plenty of people that might stray away from that prospect but for me? It is exhilarating. I’ve never been the type of person to find comfort in settling or being still. It’s a trait of the Reed family; a restless bunch of people all striving for more.
Growing up the word ‘neurotic’ was often thrown in my direction. It was not used properly but they meant it in the terms that I always had to be doing something. Even straight As wasn’t enough for me. I was/am always reaching for the next thing.
See that inch under my skin is my own selfishness breaking through the other mess of reasons. I don’t like the idea of losing or being weak. Therefore I’ll put everything on the line to avoid those outcomes.
“The Cult Classic is defended all the time. It is an endless wave of people coming after it and trying to take it away. A tall order to be the person holding the title. I know that I can handle that. In fact, it is what I want. To be tested with the highest stakes constantly. We only evolve in the face of adversity and if I am ever going to be one of the best then this is where I should start.”
“I feel as if JJ and I have that in common. The constant drive to better yourself, to find the best then beat them. It’s like finding a kindred spirit which just makes me a little giddy. The thought of finding someone who will lay it all out? Nothing held back because this match might as well be the last one we ever have. That mindset? It creates the best matches. It drags everything you’ve got in your gut to the surface. A quick way to actually get to know someone– to really get to know them. It goes beyond the niceties, the games, and the mask we wear with strangers. That type of attitude is what you want in a champion because it inspires everyone to do their best. Which, I guess, when I take the title off of you just means that you did your job very well.”
“I’ve seen the people you’ve beaten. Vincent Black, Ace Sky, Jennie Fenix, and those aren’t some jo smos. I’ve seen what Jennie can do in the ring, I’ve seen what she has done outside of Cult. It’s like watching two giants trading blows and then deciding to step up to the victor. Instead of David, please, call me Odyssey. That comparison suits the situation better. Backed up against the wall, no escape but out the front door. There is no way around but to go straight through. I’ve got people waiting on me and I sure as hell aren’t waiting for you to remove the rock from the entrance.
JJ…There’s so much you can teach me in this match. That seems like a minor thing, but what I collect in this match is as valuable as those sheep. A lifeline. So don’t look away, don’t underestimate me… or you might walk out blind. Figuratively…”
If I lose–
See that came up a few times when I started to make plans for that. I couldn’t help myself. It’s an anxiety response so I never feel out of control. It’s not like I want to put defeat inside my head. It is the ever-present problem of ‘what ifs’ taking control. So while the beginning of them starts, they aren’t allowed to stick around. It isn’t ‘if I lose’. It’s ‘what is next when I win?’
It feels a little cocky to do that but confidence in this industry is one of the most important things to have. I’m not sure if I’m “on schedule” with my learning or not. I feel like I’m right where I want to be and that’s… just about all I can ask for.
“When I thought about this part, it was like filling out an essay question. It was such a stiff response at first and I felt like a robot. ‘Why do I want to win….’ Then I jotted down five paragraphs. It wasn’t very authentic because it came down to what I thought people wanted to hear. What was the correct thing to say? In the end, I’ve decided to just… be honest.”
“I’m going to win. I am going to walk out of Bangers and Mash with the Cult Classic slung over my shoulder. I know I’m going to be tired, wear the exhaustion like a badge of honor because there’s no easy way to it. Moving through these two men I– It’s a huge obstacle. I’m not here to be run-of-the-mill. I’m stepping up to be that upset. To prove to Cult, to myself, to our owner, that placing me inside of this match meant something. I want to elevate this company. I want to become someone that people strive to beat. God. I can feel the jitters. There is so much riding on this. No time for failing. When you step into the belly of the beast there is no time for hesitation. Heh.”
“We ready to show Cult the definition of fine wrestling? Let’s get it, boys.”
I sat across from him with my hands tucked beneath my legs. Just staring at the floor between our feet. Truth be told, when I saw him, I cried. It wasn’t one of those trying to look decent while crying because you like the boy in front of you. It was ugly. The whole snot runs down my face while I’m hiccupping and ends up with puffy eyes.
Of course, now I’m dealing with the aftermath. It isn’t as if Peyton would ever judge me. He isn’t even off put by me needing him to just cry to. We both have an understanding of why he is here. Life’s a mess, out of our control, and we are having to adjust for other people. Honestly, I'm only half positive he is even human with how ‘in stride’ he takes things.
I finally dare myself to peer up and Peyton is calmly staring out the window. Watching the world slowly move on by my window.
“My match is in a couple of days.” I start, “Feel like I’m only ever half ready for these things. It isn’t like my tests where I knew all the answers. In some bizarre twist, fate has a lot to do with it. I guess also luck, and it all comes down to, who is better at this moment. It can shift with a simple variable.”
He looks at me waiting to see if I’m done or not. Patient as ever. Handsome to boot. He makes me smile.
“My brother once told me that I’d make a piss poor wrestler due to the fact I hate not being in control. Perhaps there is some truth there. I never liked losing games, never enjoyed not acing tests I’d study for, but with wrestling? There is beauty in each motion of it. I’m not sure how I’ll feel if this match goes bottom-up though. I’m not even sure how it’ll feel when I walk out the new champion. See I'm trying this whole thing about speaking stuff into existence. Not let the doubt in. Whatever...” I lean back trying to stabilize my thoughts. While he listens to me, I know, he knows, that this isn’t the pressing matter. For a second, the reality of the situation leaves me. My upcoming match is all that is left. Until I shut my eyes.
The silence stretches. I wish there was more I could say about my match. I wish I could go on and on about JJ and Johnny. There isn’t a point…Now a sigh leaves my lips. I’m also deflating with the motion.
“There’s nothing we can really do. Just trust the process. Watch from the sidelines.”
“It’s shitty.” He admits brushing back his long hair. His eyes darken the way they always do when we talk about this. It doesn’t deter me but actually offers some comfort. We are in the same boat. Sure it sucks but at least we aren’t alone.
“What now?”
“I’ll make some lunch.” Peyton stands up leaving me in the chair. “What do you want?”
My body moves me to the fridge where I’m slowly shifting through lunch meat. Sandwiches are simple. Right now I want that. I want something simple. I want him. I want for sure things that don’t feel overwhelming. My mind is a jumbled mess. I feel like what I said to my opponents was too. All my thoughts tangled up but tried at making a clear path. Even if it was all scattered, is that okay? Even though I couldn’t sculpt it perfectly… Will they understand how badly I want this? Everything I’m willing to do for it?
In an ideal world:
○ I would be engaged to this man.
○ My sister would be home.
○ I’d walk out of Bangers and Mash holding the Classic Cult Championship.
At this very moment, I'm only betting on one of those.
A package of turkey leaves my hands before it is replaced with his hands. I carefully take hold staring up at him and wait. Peyton bends down to press his forehead against mine. A silent little gesture so I know that no matter what: he is here. Right here.
It feels me with warmth, you know, butterflies. Honestly, my scattered mind slowly comes together. He smiles at me.
"You are going to come home with a championship."
"Are you mocking my process?!" I gasp gently bonking my forehead against his own.
"I'd never." And he is serious.
While it is a little silly, and I do equate this to wishing on a star. I repeat the words. "I am going to come home with the Cult Classic Championship."
"When you do I'll make your favorite dinner."
"If I don't--"
"No, no. None of that." Peyton releases my hands and spins to return back to the cabinet where I store the bread.
I release a breath because I've been holding mine in a lot lately. "Thank you for coming by."
He gives me a small grunt in reply because for him it wasn't even something I needed to thank. I don't think he understands what he does for me. My doubts, those tiny fears I don't want to admit to with this match or other things, shrink down, and I feel a weight slip off me. I don't think he understands what he always gives me
The strength to keep moving forward.
Break it down, Emily, I tell myself. Just think it through. Separating the pieces: First comes training. Get that done, follow through, improve my time, improve my weight, lift more, move faster, endure heavy hits, and perfect the movements. Then comes the rest of my day to sign up for classes. Begin the prep work, find the right programs, and figure out the timing so I don’t burn out. Before I have a chance there is a small voice in my head repeating everything else. The “needs”...I need to be strong. I need to be the best. I need to make this work. I need to protect my family. I need to win this match. I need—
“I know what you’re thinking…I can’t do this. There is absolutely no way that this rookie can pull off this upset. We’ve got her records here, and sure, it’s cute she thinks she can. We are all rooting for her to go out there and do a good job. All I need to do is just do my best and walk out holding a participation ribbon.”
“Let’s face it, compared to Jacob and Johnny, I’m the one who has everything to win off this match. Losing is run-of-the-mill stuff so no one would really bat an eye. I’d probably settle somewhere in the line because that would go according to plan. It’s the easiest thing in the world to discredit me. What I have or have not done swiftly defines what I *can* do. A massive pitfall at the end of the street if you ask me. Let’s be upfront, you don’t know me. There are guesses, sure, but when it comes down to the moment, who knows but me?
It is a new feeling to have all the cards in my hand. I feel like we are playing a game of high-risk poker. All staring across the table trying to sort out who has it, who doesn’t, and when the right time to strike is. If you fold too soon then you might give someone else the winnings. It takes a keen eye but it is also following your gut. I’ve never been good at cards, but gambling? My gut has never steered me wrong there.”
I need to win because I’m watching this sport try to consume people I care about. They think they are protecting me, they think it will help, but this sport did nothing for them. It took chunks and injured them so they had to take years to mend it all up. Ever hungry maw… Which made people wonder why the heck I wanted to be a wrestler in the first place. There is a vast collection of reasons why. In this current situation, it runs as follows: If I can prove that there’s no need to worry then I won’t have to watch helplessly, while they get hurt.
I love my sister too much to just let shit happen to her. Right now, I can’t do anything but watch from the sidelines. That is the only thing I could ever do!
"No, Emily, just watch from here where it is safe.”
Fuck that! When I prove that I can beat these two men then I can challenge anyone. It doesn’t have to make sense to everyone else. I don’t give a fuck if anyone has an issue with my motivations.
“Everyone in this match has their own needs or the sharks will come to collect. Jacob *needs* to keep that title. Johnny *needs* to seize it. Which makes sense to him. I’ve been on the hunt for Johnny but he is a rare find. I know so little about what he is doing here in CULT that it almost feels a bit unfair. From what I’ve learned, that’s just how the cookie crumbles. Sometimes you don’t get a whole bunch on the person across the ring. Right now I’m watching him, waiting to see what he has. Everyone has a plan, it seems. So what is yours, Johnny? Let’s say in an ideal world you take the Cult Classic in your hands then what? It isn’t just enough to get into my face telling me that *I’m* not winning. It never will be. What made you suddenly appear like a ghost coming at Jacob? I know more about Eavan. Her intentions were very clear that she would break the champion before he even had a chance to defend the title. Trying to make a name and prove that she is better. Is that your play? Johnny, it’s like you popped out of the wall. I know you held a tag title a while back. I know what your little blurb offers up but that doesn’t paint a full picture. I’d like to know more about the person who I’m going to beat for this title.”
“We don’t always get everything we want. As followed, I know a boring way to pose it– You have enough skill to hold gold. You are dangerous. No one likes when they put effort into forming a plan just to have it blow up in their face. No need in understanding what it is because you’ll knock me off course to achieve this victory. In the end, that’s all I need to know. All you need to know is this: after the end, you’re going to need a new drawing board.”
Does this feeling of being on the edge of a cliff ever go away? I keep questioning if this feeling will go away. Is it possible to take a clear, deep breath? Even after you reach the heights, does it feel satisfying or do you notice a large mountain in the distance? There are plenty of people that might stray away from that prospect but for me? It is exhilarating. I’ve never been the type of person to find comfort in settling or being still. It’s a trait of the Reed family; a restless bunch of people all striving for more.
Growing up the word ‘neurotic’ was often thrown in my direction. It was not used properly but they meant it in the terms that I always had to be doing something. Even straight As wasn’t enough for me. I was/am always reaching for the next thing.
See that inch under my skin is my own selfishness breaking through the other mess of reasons. I don’t like the idea of losing or being weak. Therefore I’ll put everything on the line to avoid those outcomes.
“The Cult Classic is defended all the time. It is an endless wave of people coming after it and trying to take it away. A tall order to be the person holding the title. I know that I can handle that. In fact, it is what I want. To be tested with the highest stakes constantly. We only evolve in the face of adversity and if I am ever going to be one of the best then this is where I should start.”
“I feel as if JJ and I have that in common. The constant drive to better yourself, to find the best then beat them. It’s like finding a kindred spirit which just makes me a little giddy. The thought of finding someone who will lay it all out? Nothing held back because this match might as well be the last one we ever have. That mindset? It creates the best matches. It drags everything you’ve got in your gut to the surface. A quick way to actually get to know someone– to really get to know them. It goes beyond the niceties, the games, and the mask we wear with strangers. That type of attitude is what you want in a champion because it inspires everyone to do their best. Which, I guess, when I take the title off of you just means that you did your job very well.”
“I’ve seen the people you’ve beaten. Vincent Black, Ace Sky, Jennie Fenix, and those aren’t some jo smos. I’ve seen what Jennie can do in the ring, I’ve seen what she has done outside of Cult. It’s like watching two giants trading blows and then deciding to step up to the victor. Instead of David, please, call me Odyssey. That comparison suits the situation better. Backed up against the wall, no escape but out the front door. There is no way around but to go straight through. I’ve got people waiting on me and I sure as hell aren’t waiting for you to remove the rock from the entrance.
JJ…There’s so much you can teach me in this match. That seems like a minor thing, but what I collect in this match is as valuable as those sheep. A lifeline. So don’t look away, don’t underestimate me… or you might walk out blind. Figuratively…”
If I lose–
See that came up a few times when I started to make plans for that. I couldn’t help myself. It’s an anxiety response so I never feel out of control. It’s not like I want to put defeat inside my head. It is the ever-present problem of ‘what ifs’ taking control. So while the beginning of them starts, they aren’t allowed to stick around. It isn’t ‘if I lose’. It’s ‘what is next when I win?’
It feels a little cocky to do that but confidence in this industry is one of the most important things to have. I’m not sure if I’m “on schedule” with my learning or not. I feel like I’m right where I want to be and that’s… just about all I can ask for.
“When I thought about this part, it was like filling out an essay question. It was such a stiff response at first and I felt like a robot. ‘Why do I want to win….’ Then I jotted down five paragraphs. It wasn’t very authentic because it came down to what I thought people wanted to hear. What was the correct thing to say? In the end, I’ve decided to just… be honest.”
“I’m going to win. I am going to walk out of Bangers and Mash with the Cult Classic slung over my shoulder. I know I’m going to be tired, wear the exhaustion like a badge of honor because there’s no easy way to it. Moving through these two men I– It’s a huge obstacle. I’m not here to be run-of-the-mill. I’m stepping up to be that upset. To prove to Cult, to myself, to our owner, that placing me inside of this match meant something. I want to elevate this company. I want to become someone that people strive to beat. God. I can feel the jitters. There is so much riding on this. No time for failing. When you step into the belly of the beast there is no time for hesitation. Heh.”
“We ready to show Cult the definition of fine wrestling? Let’s get it, boys.”
I sat across from him with my hands tucked beneath my legs. Just staring at the floor between our feet. Truth be told, when I saw him, I cried. It wasn’t one of those trying to look decent while crying because you like the boy in front of you. It was ugly. The whole snot runs down my face while I’m hiccupping and ends up with puffy eyes.
Of course, now I’m dealing with the aftermath. It isn’t as if Peyton would ever judge me. He isn’t even off put by me needing him to just cry to. We both have an understanding of why he is here. Life’s a mess, out of our control, and we are having to adjust for other people. Honestly, I'm only half positive he is even human with how ‘in stride’ he takes things.
I finally dare myself to peer up and Peyton is calmly staring out the window. Watching the world slowly move on by my window.
“My match is in a couple of days.” I start, “Feel like I’m only ever half ready for these things. It isn’t like my tests where I knew all the answers. In some bizarre twist, fate has a lot to do with it. I guess also luck, and it all comes down to, who is better at this moment. It can shift with a simple variable.”
He looks at me waiting to see if I’m done or not. Patient as ever. Handsome to boot. He makes me smile.
“My brother once told me that I’d make a piss poor wrestler due to the fact I hate not being in control. Perhaps there is some truth there. I never liked losing games, never enjoyed not acing tests I’d study for, but with wrestling? There is beauty in each motion of it. I’m not sure how I’ll feel if this match goes bottom-up though. I’m not even sure how it’ll feel when I walk out the new champion. See I'm trying this whole thing about speaking stuff into existence. Not let the doubt in. Whatever...” I lean back trying to stabilize my thoughts. While he listens to me, I know, he knows, that this isn’t the pressing matter. For a second, the reality of the situation leaves me. My upcoming match is all that is left. Until I shut my eyes.
The silence stretches. I wish there was more I could say about my match. I wish I could go on and on about JJ and Johnny. There isn’t a point…Now a sigh leaves my lips. I’m also deflating with the motion.
“There’s nothing we can really do. Just trust the process. Watch from the sidelines.”
“It’s shitty.” He admits brushing back his long hair. His eyes darken the way they always do when we talk about this. It doesn’t deter me but actually offers some comfort. We are in the same boat. Sure it sucks but at least we aren’t alone.
“What now?”
“I’ll make some lunch.” Peyton stands up leaving me in the chair. “What do you want?”
My body moves me to the fridge where I’m slowly shifting through lunch meat. Sandwiches are simple. Right now I want that. I want something simple. I want him. I want for sure things that don’t feel overwhelming. My mind is a jumbled mess. I feel like what I said to my opponents was too. All my thoughts tangled up but tried at making a clear path. Even if it was all scattered, is that okay? Even though I couldn’t sculpt it perfectly… Will they understand how badly I want this? Everything I’m willing to do for it?
In an ideal world:
○ I would be engaged to this man.
○ My sister would be home.
○ I’d walk out of Bangers and Mash holding the Classic Cult Championship.
At this very moment, I'm only betting on one of those.
A package of turkey leaves my hands before it is replaced with his hands. I carefully take hold staring up at him and wait. Peyton bends down to press his forehead against mine. A silent little gesture so I know that no matter what: he is here. Right here.
It feels me with warmth, you know, butterflies. Honestly, my scattered mind slowly comes together. He smiles at me.
"You are going to come home with a championship."
"Are you mocking my process?!" I gasp gently bonking my forehead against his own.
"I'd never." And he is serious.
While it is a little silly, and I do equate this to wishing on a star. I repeat the words. "I am going to come home with the Cult Classic Championship."
"When you do I'll make your favorite dinner."
"If I don't--"
"No, no. None of that." Peyton releases my hands and spins to return back to the cabinet where I store the bread.
I release a breath because I've been holding mine in a lot lately. "Thank you for coming by."
He gives me a small grunt in reply because for him it wasn't even something I needed to thank. I don't think he understands what he does for me. My doubts, those tiny fears I don't want to admit to with this match or other things, shrink down, and I feel a weight slip off me. I don't think he understands what he always gives me
The strength to keep moving forward.
