Horizon RP: These Days

Ante Whitner RP
These Days

It’s been a while. I’ll admit it, I didn’t do much. I fell from the face of the Earth without warning. I put up a good fight, lost, sunk into a crippling state, and reemerge once again with a different purpose. It’s almost like a cycle at this point and it annoys the f*ckin’ sh*t out of me.

I can’t explain this feeling, no one is draggin’ me down, nothing is rubbin’ me the wrong way. But, there is something there, I know it. I know who I am, a bipolar “psychopath” (or sociopath, depending on who you ask). I know the actions I’ve done in my life, I know the consequences too.

Or at least I thought I did. I knew who I was. I knew what I did. But, the key is the past tense here; “knew”, “did”, “was”. I don’t know I am anymore. I don’t know what I do anymore. It all became a matter of question, every single f*ckin’ step, every single f*ckin’ action, every single f*ckin’ thing I did. I lost myself in some action I don’t remember nor want to remember. I just need a long, hard, look at life. I live in the moment and always have. I boozed, smoked, snorted, and f*cked through everything, never wanting to remember it or cherish it. Live my life to the fullest, “YOLO”, stupid teenager sh*t.

But, what is the future exactly? The future seems like an obscure concept to think about, but it’s not. It’s right in front of all of us. We either choose to face it or back down. And I’m one of those p*ssies who backed down. I chose to ignore the call to grow up and be a man. I would blame it on the disorder I have and call it a day. But, those demons man, they don’t go away. They tell you to grow up and you refuse. They tell you to be a man and you ignore. They tell you to accept your fate and you deny.

These days though, these f*ckin’ days.

One of these days the ground will drop out beneath your feet. One of these days your heart will stop and play its final beat. One of these days the clocks will stop and time won’t mean a thing. One of these days their bombs will drop and silence everything.

And then what would I do?

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I don’t even remember how the mat feels. I can’t recall the stench of blood and sweat. And I’m glad I can’t.

I don’t remember how to love. I can’t recall the last time I interacted with another human being. And I’m glad I can’t.

I’m glad because that was the shadow of my former self; a weak, fatigued, and broken Ante. I always got caught up in the ego of depicting myself as a king, an emperor of nothing. At one point, I called myself god.

I am not that typical “fall from grace” allegory. I’m more like the “fall from a bed” allegory. What does grace represent? Prestige. What are the consequences? A broken heart, a loss of dignity.

What does a bed represent? Desolation and pure laziness. What are the consequences? A big bump or a bruise. That’s it.

Because that’s what I am; bruised, alone, and unwilling to do anything to improve myself. I’m thicker, I’m uglier, but hey, I learned to shut my f*ckin’ mouth. I didn’t go into a state of manic depression like that other fateful period of time. This time was extremely different. I just, sort of, found myself.

I depicted a world where everything revolved around me and the disorder I have. Earning the National title: owe it to the sickness. Losing the National title: blame it on the sickness. Destroying Michael Kyzer: owe it to the sickness. Losing my sanity: blame it on the sickness.

I’m down with the f*ckin’ sickness. Enough.

Finding yourself, when everyone is against you, is difficult, I’m not gonna lie. All you do is make enemies left and right and you have no one to guide you (because pretty much everyone f*ckin’ hates you). Or, maybe, the enemies can guide you.

I am an enemy, Dante. But, I’m not like the others. I’m here to guide you, just like I’m willing to find other foes to guide me. I want to be your teacher and make you learn what putting a D in front of my name symbolizes. You’re here to make a name for yourself, and so am I. Together, we’re not trying to pull apart each other and get into each other’s minds. We’re here for an equal opportunity competition and only one of us can move on.

So tell me, Dante, do you want to move on? Do you want to make a mockery of my existence? Go ahead, prove yourself. Prove that you’re a man, willing to put up a fight. Prove that you’re a hero, willing to represent the fans behind your back. Prove that you’re the one, to put Ante Whitner’s career to rest.

But, I know you won’t. I’ve seen guys like you drop like flies in only months time. Say they’re the best, prove that they aren’t. It’s the most prominent laughable characteristic of human nature; hypocrisy. You’re laughable, a complete joke. What makes you different from everybody else who has come and gone, huh?

I’ll admit it, when it comes to ring work, I may be rusty. I haven’t trained in months, haven’t gained or lost any weight. I’ve been dormant and desolate in the consuming universe that is my conscience. But even I, a man of multiple emotional breakdowns, a man of countless disabilities, can still identify who is a fraud or not. And in my eyes, you are a f*ckin’ fraud.

I want it to make it your duty to end me where I stand. I want you to destroy me and prove that you’re something. I found myself at the very lowest of my existence, so take advantage before that can grow any further. I will just grow more powerful, more aware, and more intelligent to the point that I’m untouchable.

F*ck with me, Dante. I’m weak, broken, and willing to accept my fate. End it, end the career of the longest reigning National Champion in WFWF history, end the life of a man who ended Kyzer’s life.

One of these days, your eyes will close and pain will disappear. One of these days you will forget to hope and learn to fear.

Those days are coming, they will for all of us. And I’m not waiting on another fraud to take them away from me.