Post by Solitaire on Feb 18, 2017 6:28:11 GMT -5
A lot happens in the space of a year.
Where was I a year ago?
I believe making the transition from the world of mixed martial arts to that of professional wrestling… In truth, it wasn’t all that difficult seeing as the premise remained the same - you win the fight when you beat your opponent. I’ve found many attempt to convolute such things however, usually under the guise of proving one to be superior to the other
I felt as though something about the comparison of oranges and apples would be apt in this moment- provided both were beaten into a form of submission or incapacitation- however there seemed little point in forcing the issue.
Especially considering the poor imitation of ‘Forrest Whitaker eye’ I was receiving across the coffee table from my older sister, Desiree, I found myself quickly coming to the conclusion that perhaps now wasn’t the most appropriate time for reflection.
No doubt she’d likely have said something intending to be poignant or insightful, one of those statements designed to garner veneration like a verbal participation trophy, about a frivolous achievement made by one of her children.
Perhaps it was the oldest surviving a night without a urine soaked incident despite the fact he’d just turned 13, or the middle child almost hitting a baseball without flinging the bat into the field of play like a poorly aerodynamic discus. Maybe even the youngest for not repeating the newest swear word overheard while mommy and daddy fought about daddy getting caught wearing one of mommy’s dresses again.
Instead, Desiree projected an arrogance as though suburban mediocrity was everyone’s life goal and she’d been one of the few to achieve it. Perhaps I was simply oblivious and her existence was indeed all that could be attained, the height of human potential… if that human was all of 2 foot 1 and mentally handicapped.
“Did you even here what I said?”
It was one of those questions where no answer would be deemed correct, no doubt a mouthful of abuse would be hurled my way for my deliberate ignorance to whatever tale of middling middle class utopia she’d been no doubt amplifying.
I didn’t answer immediately, no doubt the words on the tip of my tongue would be those least appreciated despite their scathing wittiness. Indeed time had done little to change her sense of humour, or the lack thereof- at least Desiree would remain reliable in a world where change took place faster than the brain could comprehend let alone accept.
She’d aged in a year, not significantly but in the way the crow’s feet branching from her eyes had deepened and sporadic grey hairs that hadn’t existed a year before now shimmered where the hair dye had missed its mark.
“You said something incredibly consequential to the conversation-“
“-that you have done little to partake in-“
“-because I have simply been enthralled by your tales of school runs and housework-"
“- which I didn’t say anything about.”
“- they have no doubt happened-“
“-which is entirely irrelevant-“
“-yet still correct.”
Desiree paused, only now was she starting to understand the futility of her argument, that or she’d succumb to confusion about where the disagreement had actually originated. Both of which were to be considered wins.
“I was actually telling you about the upcoming piano recital-“
“- wonderful instrument-"
“- and wanted to invite you-”
“- dreadful instrument, cannot stand the sound of such a - ”
“… It’s your niece”
“… It’s your daughter”
“I’m already going-“
“-which means I’m clearly not needed.”
To make things clear, it wasn’t as though I didn’t want to go. Which I didn’t really, however a certain displeased Russian who may or may not have allegedly tried to commit arson upon my club- seemed to be somewhat more obsessive than what I’d originally have given credit for and no doubt my stubbornness had attracted his unwanted attention.
After all could one imagine a bear of a man, like Nikolay Vaschenko for instance, barging into a school auditorium full of parents and relative mentally listing all the places they’d rather be, while a child on stage continually mixed up E sharp with C flat.
“- if this has to do with work…”
A little white lie had become not so little over time, I believe I had convinced them last that I was a personal assistant at some god awful accounting firm- or was it a lawyers office? Perhaps a volunteer at a veteran homeless dog shelter doubling as a soup kitchen and Sunday school. I have no doubt that my god fearing mother and sister would have likely drowned yours truly in holy water and scripture verses before I’d even got half of my true occupations past my lips.
Apparently successfully running a gentleman’s club as well as partaking in professional wrestling weren’t all that high on the desirable jobs list for those looking to get through those pearly gates.
One could call it an educated presumption.
“- it has to do with a lot of things.”
“Perhaps a man in your life?”
It was my turn to scoff loudly, perhaps too much so based on the scowl I received for my efforts.
“You don’t need to be so sarcastic about it”
“What would you like me to say? That I’m finally settling down with a pleasant man with a 9-5 and receding hairline, that I’m finally content with a white picket fence and will immediately start contributing to the next generation of middling suburbanites, eyes closed and legs open for a man with a wandering eye for a barely legal secretary and an itch for the horses.
You will have to forgive my views of success in life to not being limited to the confines of the 1940s and the writings of what Jesus would have you do. Well that and make your husband a sandwich while he struts up and down the hallway in your heels?”
“I’m happy. Are you? Can you honestly tell me that you are content with going home to an empty apartment every night, going to bed with an empty heart without the light of Jesus to banish the shadows, that your job brings you more contentment than the smiles of your own children and the love of a husband?”
Desiree leaned back into the sofa, clearly gratified with her own response. It wasn’t as though she was wrong by any stretch of the imagination and perhaps one day I would seek those out for myself- minus the spiritual drivel of course.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I watched the victory creep across her features, surprised perhaps by my reluctance to argue further. I let her enjoy the taste of success if only for a moment, some would argue cruelly so- another side effect of the industries that I immerse myself in no doubt. It must have felt like an achievement, like a sanctified ray of light pouring through a non-existent hole in the room and right down upon her on par with not having to wash urine soaked sheets for the first time in weeks.
I could have explained how happiness and success were inversely proportional in most cases, with the pursuit of one creating excess of the other until attainment is reached and the scales plummet back to Earth. I could have extolled the way that success was more than materialistic, that simply having things wasn’t enough to satiate curiosity nor wonder.
I let her bathe too long- should false triumph have been a warm bath then her fingertips would have wrinkled long before now and the waters almost gone cold save for a poorly timed bathroom break that created golden waters where they’d previously run clear.
Bubbles were designed to be burst, to be prismatic and utterly delightful for a moment before abruptly disintegrating, to create hope and wonder where none existed nor should have ever done so.
“However I’m not the one trying to convince myself of the fact either.”
******
“You are indeed quite the conundrum Ms Roberts.
I don’t mean that in terms of offense, quite the opposite if anything. Besides, when you open up a conversation with an insult you happen to cut all communications abruptly short- and why spoil the fun before you even manage to get my name right.
It’s difficult, I understand. I mean maybe if you gave more than a cursory glance at my existence then you’d have the epiphany that you sorely require however that is clearly a lot to ask for a woman as busy being ‘dominant’ as you have been.
See, you intrigue me in a way where most have fallen woefully short- aside from the fact you happen to be a next level of competition beyond just showing up to receive an obligatory pay check and subsequent annihilation.
You are quite the riddle- if a riddle could also happen to be obscenely lacking personality… See, you are a contradiction and rather than tearing yourself apart at the seams because of it, it’s made you… now what’s the word I’m looking for… it cannot ‘unstoppable’ because it seems even a champion the calibre of yourself has been proven fallible, and it’s not likely ‘undisputable’ seeing as more than one opponent who has come up short has brought you into deeper waters than you felt comfortable treading.
Most importantly though, it’s certainly not ‘absolute’.
If you were, then you’d be me.
Of course that’s simply not the case Ms Roberts- perhaps much to your own misguided jubilation.
While you are many things- more of them positive than even I will admit, I won’t stand here and take away what you have achieved. Only a fool would be so desperate as to try and undercut the obvious, and perhaps you are yet to realize this but I don’t happen to be a fool, nor am I predisposed to desperation. You are correct in that you’ve been champion for over a year, you have beaten all those who dared challenge your status when the gold was on the line- you have been one of the premiere attractions of LAW since becoming Marquee champion.
You’ve done a lot, you’ve beaten many of those clawing at our collective heels as we set to do battle however despite the fearsome reputation that comes with such a record breaking reign- you are not impossible to overcome. It’s rather a pity that I won’t be the first to prove so though.
I must say that you have made yourself quite the puzzle to be solved- unfortunately what you fail to comprehend at this moment is that it isn’t quite the task you make it out to be.
A Rubik’s cube, if you will, except that it only bears two colours.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised that many have come up short in the quest to solve the Marquee riddle in a timely manner, not all are created equal in such a way and while I don’t discredit those who fell along the path before me, I cannot allow myself to be pigeonholed with them either.
You see, the thing that I feel confounds people the most and therefore leads to a rather inevitable downfall is this overtly false confidence you happen to exude.
I believe I have subsequently opened Pandora’s box of tedious and opinionated antithesis, but I will not allow myself to be drowned nor crushed beneath the weight of brittle reputation and pathetic venom. If anything I welcome the argument because it only further proves my point- you see Ms Roberts it is only this reputation you’ve so carefully constructed and a synthetic, contrived self-assurance that happens to keep you upright.
Those who come before have found themselves staring up at this beast of conviction, standing 10 feet tall with a bulletproof smile and defeated themselves before a lock up ever occurred however it isn’t the beast that one has to contend with- it is the wizard behind the curtain trying to make the world no longer question the credibility of a paper cut out with a belt around its waist.
Thing is, Ms Roberts and I believe this to be the saddest truth of all. Everyone has already bought in, everyone except you.
This is where I happen to expect some kind of witty reply, or something to prove this isn’t the case aside from a passive aggressive declaration that I can’t possibly be right since you still happen to hold the gold. Of course, what I expect and reality never quite seem to align and therefore when the inevitable happens- in this case the same kind of tedium the world has come to view as excellence- consider me less than disappointed.
What you don’t happen to realize is that many already already connotate your name with this unbeatable championship façade you have presented so blatantly that there is no other option but to buy in for most. You project this arrogance and superiority so forcefully that it hits those opposing way harder than it has any right to, leaving opponents stunned and therefore easier to beat with the slightly above average ring talent you happen to possess.
Maybe it’s my background that allows me to see beyond what is exhibited, that I cannot simply ignore the sign on a poorly concealed door that says ‘The Real Mackenzie Roberts Really Isn’t Behind This Door’ while I go and focus my efforts on knocking this bronze likeness possessed by the wrestling gods from its pedestal.
It’s not your reputation I’m coming to fight though, nor is it the façade of a supposedly unstoppable champion or even the exalted beyond year title reign.
Between you and me, Ms Roberts, I’m showing up to fight the woman who’s struggling to keep her head above the rising tide of competition. I’m showing up to fight the woman who’s clinging onto the hope that I may yet buy into the hype and bury myself beneath the expectation of failure.
I’m showing up to win against a woman who’s held onto a title a year longer than she’s had any right to.
I don’t plan on proclaiming that I’m going to be your blue kryptonite, that’s just frankly cliché bordering on downright absurd. What I plan on is choking you out while you contemplate how you managed to slip through the cracks for as long as you have.
A year is a very long time for most people Ms Roberts, it must be traumatic waking every day only to wonder when the elaborate smokescreen of credibility will dissipate. Every day, hour, minute, second… Quantify it as you will, as it stands your reign is but numbers and names, hype and propaganda spewed out of proportion to the talent in question.
There is still time for you though- quite wondrous, don’t you think?
That despite all that you have wasted trying to convince a fandom already suckered into your hysteria of your greatness and worth, despite your inability to buy into your own fantasy of significance… there is still time for you.
Time that you should employ into a grander pursuit than distracting from the flimsy curtain that barely contains your utmost flaw of failed self-assurance, time that I might suggest you use to reflect upon the previous year.
With time comes change, something you’ve yet to experience on such a scale still I find you so ill-prepared for the fall as though you plan on skydiving and hoping a higher power provides you with a parachute on the way down cause you happened to pray extra hard that morning.
Consider this an olive branch in the form of an opportunity, one which you won’t thank me for immediately following LAW Rising Stars but further down the line will grow to understand the importance of- an opportunity to be free.
Freedom is a rarity you see, although not immediately obvious considering this point we live in is declared the ‘free world’ yet here you are weighed down by a burden you placed upon your own shoulders, a burden that drives you deeper into the earth with every step you take.
I don’t doubt that you’ll fight tooth and nail to remain with your title, like a tumorous growth you’ve become emotionally attached to and now cannot bear to be parted from.
Around your waist, the Marquee title has become little more than a malformed parasitic twin of gold and expectation quickly becoming septic and personally I’m more inclined to try and save the gold.
You’ve been left unchecked for too long Ms Roberts, a phantom cancerous growth of artificial self-importance spreading its malignant influence throughout LAW. Others may have bought into the terminal diagnosis and simply succumbed to mind over matter however, while I’m not gifted with X-ray vision, it’s clear enough that there is little tangible substance left beneath the surface.
You might be slightly more talented than those you’ve faced before when combined with reputational fear mongering and a false belief that you might just be the best LAW has to offer- however strip back the layers and suddenly the big, bad Mackenzie Roberts is little more than scared children stacked beneath a trench coat.
A year is a long time for most Ms Roberts, and in that time you’ve been good no doubt- hell some would argue you’ve been very good. However it should be the most worrying thought of all that a year’s worth of hard work can be neatly summarized and punctuated in the space of three seconds.
Tick, tick, tap.
Amirai xoxo
Where was I a year ago?
I believe making the transition from the world of mixed martial arts to that of professional wrestling… In truth, it wasn’t all that difficult seeing as the premise remained the same - you win the fight when you beat your opponent. I’ve found many attempt to convolute such things however, usually under the guise of proving one to be superior to the other
I felt as though something about the comparison of oranges and apples would be apt in this moment- provided both were beaten into a form of submission or incapacitation- however there seemed little point in forcing the issue.
Especially considering the poor imitation of ‘Forrest Whitaker eye’ I was receiving across the coffee table from my older sister, Desiree, I found myself quickly coming to the conclusion that perhaps now wasn’t the most appropriate time for reflection.
No doubt she’d likely have said something intending to be poignant or insightful, one of those statements designed to garner veneration like a verbal participation trophy, about a frivolous achievement made by one of her children.
Perhaps it was the oldest surviving a night without a urine soaked incident despite the fact he’d just turned 13, or the middle child almost hitting a baseball without flinging the bat into the field of play like a poorly aerodynamic discus. Maybe even the youngest for not repeating the newest swear word overheard while mommy and daddy fought about daddy getting caught wearing one of mommy’s dresses again.
Instead, Desiree projected an arrogance as though suburban mediocrity was everyone’s life goal and she’d been one of the few to achieve it. Perhaps I was simply oblivious and her existence was indeed all that could be attained, the height of human potential… if that human was all of 2 foot 1 and mentally handicapped.
“Did you even here what I said?”
It was one of those questions where no answer would be deemed correct, no doubt a mouthful of abuse would be hurled my way for my deliberate ignorance to whatever tale of middling middle class utopia she’d been no doubt amplifying.
I didn’t answer immediately, no doubt the words on the tip of my tongue would be those least appreciated despite their scathing wittiness. Indeed time had done little to change her sense of humour, or the lack thereof- at least Desiree would remain reliable in a world where change took place faster than the brain could comprehend let alone accept.
She’d aged in a year, not significantly but in the way the crow’s feet branching from her eyes had deepened and sporadic grey hairs that hadn’t existed a year before now shimmered where the hair dye had missed its mark.
“You said something incredibly consequential to the conversation-“
“-that you have done little to partake in-“
“-because I have simply been enthralled by your tales of school runs and housework-"
“- which I didn’t say anything about.”
“- they have no doubt happened-“
“-which is entirely irrelevant-“
“-yet still correct.”
Desiree paused, only now was she starting to understand the futility of her argument, that or she’d succumb to confusion about where the disagreement had actually originated. Both of which were to be considered wins.
“I was actually telling you about the upcoming piano recital-“
“- wonderful instrument-"
“- and wanted to invite you-”
“- dreadful instrument, cannot stand the sound of such a - ”
“… It’s your niece”
“… It’s your daughter”
“I’m already going-“
“-which means I’m clearly not needed.”
To make things clear, it wasn’t as though I didn’t want to go. Which I didn’t really, however a certain displeased Russian who may or may not have allegedly tried to commit arson upon my club- seemed to be somewhat more obsessive than what I’d originally have given credit for and no doubt my stubbornness had attracted his unwanted attention.
After all could one imagine a bear of a man, like Nikolay Vaschenko for instance, barging into a school auditorium full of parents and relative mentally listing all the places they’d rather be, while a child on stage continually mixed up E sharp with C flat.
“- if this has to do with work…”
A little white lie had become not so little over time, I believe I had convinced them last that I was a personal assistant at some god awful accounting firm- or was it a lawyers office? Perhaps a volunteer at a veteran homeless dog shelter doubling as a soup kitchen and Sunday school. I have no doubt that my god fearing mother and sister would have likely drowned yours truly in holy water and scripture verses before I’d even got half of my true occupations past my lips.
Apparently successfully running a gentleman’s club as well as partaking in professional wrestling weren’t all that high on the desirable jobs list for those looking to get through those pearly gates.
One could call it an educated presumption.
“- it has to do with a lot of things.”
“Perhaps a man in your life?”
It was my turn to scoff loudly, perhaps too much so based on the scowl I received for my efforts.
“You don’t need to be so sarcastic about it”
“What would you like me to say? That I’m finally settling down with a pleasant man with a 9-5 and receding hairline, that I’m finally content with a white picket fence and will immediately start contributing to the next generation of middling suburbanites, eyes closed and legs open for a man with a wandering eye for a barely legal secretary and an itch for the horses.
You will have to forgive my views of success in life to not being limited to the confines of the 1940s and the writings of what Jesus would have you do. Well that and make your husband a sandwich while he struts up and down the hallway in your heels?”
“I’m happy. Are you? Can you honestly tell me that you are content with going home to an empty apartment every night, going to bed with an empty heart without the light of Jesus to banish the shadows, that your job brings you more contentment than the smiles of your own children and the love of a husband?”
Desiree leaned back into the sofa, clearly gratified with her own response. It wasn’t as though she was wrong by any stretch of the imagination and perhaps one day I would seek those out for myself- minus the spiritual drivel of course.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I watched the victory creep across her features, surprised perhaps by my reluctance to argue further. I let her enjoy the taste of success if only for a moment, some would argue cruelly so- another side effect of the industries that I immerse myself in no doubt. It must have felt like an achievement, like a sanctified ray of light pouring through a non-existent hole in the room and right down upon her on par with not having to wash urine soaked sheets for the first time in weeks.
I could have explained how happiness and success were inversely proportional in most cases, with the pursuit of one creating excess of the other until attainment is reached and the scales plummet back to Earth. I could have extolled the way that success was more than materialistic, that simply having things wasn’t enough to satiate curiosity nor wonder.
I let her bathe too long- should false triumph have been a warm bath then her fingertips would have wrinkled long before now and the waters almost gone cold save for a poorly timed bathroom break that created golden waters where they’d previously run clear.
Bubbles were designed to be burst, to be prismatic and utterly delightful for a moment before abruptly disintegrating, to create hope and wonder where none existed nor should have ever done so.
“However I’m not the one trying to convince myself of the fact either.”
******
“You are indeed quite the conundrum Ms Roberts.
I don’t mean that in terms of offense, quite the opposite if anything. Besides, when you open up a conversation with an insult you happen to cut all communications abruptly short- and why spoil the fun before you even manage to get my name right.
It’s difficult, I understand. I mean maybe if you gave more than a cursory glance at my existence then you’d have the epiphany that you sorely require however that is clearly a lot to ask for a woman as busy being ‘dominant’ as you have been.
See, you intrigue me in a way where most have fallen woefully short- aside from the fact you happen to be a next level of competition beyond just showing up to receive an obligatory pay check and subsequent annihilation.
You are quite the riddle- if a riddle could also happen to be obscenely lacking personality… See, you are a contradiction and rather than tearing yourself apart at the seams because of it, it’s made you… now what’s the word I’m looking for… it cannot ‘unstoppable’ because it seems even a champion the calibre of yourself has been proven fallible, and it’s not likely ‘undisputable’ seeing as more than one opponent who has come up short has brought you into deeper waters than you felt comfortable treading.
Most importantly though, it’s certainly not ‘absolute’.
If you were, then you’d be me.
Of course that’s simply not the case Ms Roberts- perhaps much to your own misguided jubilation.
While you are many things- more of them positive than even I will admit, I won’t stand here and take away what you have achieved. Only a fool would be so desperate as to try and undercut the obvious, and perhaps you are yet to realize this but I don’t happen to be a fool, nor am I predisposed to desperation. You are correct in that you’ve been champion for over a year, you have beaten all those who dared challenge your status when the gold was on the line- you have been one of the premiere attractions of LAW since becoming Marquee champion.
You’ve done a lot, you’ve beaten many of those clawing at our collective heels as we set to do battle however despite the fearsome reputation that comes with such a record breaking reign- you are not impossible to overcome. It’s rather a pity that I won’t be the first to prove so though.
I must say that you have made yourself quite the puzzle to be solved- unfortunately what you fail to comprehend at this moment is that it isn’t quite the task you make it out to be.
A Rubik’s cube, if you will, except that it only bears two colours.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised that many have come up short in the quest to solve the Marquee riddle in a timely manner, not all are created equal in such a way and while I don’t discredit those who fell along the path before me, I cannot allow myself to be pigeonholed with them either.
You see, the thing that I feel confounds people the most and therefore leads to a rather inevitable downfall is this overtly false confidence you happen to exude.
I believe I have subsequently opened Pandora’s box of tedious and opinionated antithesis, but I will not allow myself to be drowned nor crushed beneath the weight of brittle reputation and pathetic venom. If anything I welcome the argument because it only further proves my point- you see Ms Roberts it is only this reputation you’ve so carefully constructed and a synthetic, contrived self-assurance that happens to keep you upright.
Those who come before have found themselves staring up at this beast of conviction, standing 10 feet tall with a bulletproof smile and defeated themselves before a lock up ever occurred however it isn’t the beast that one has to contend with- it is the wizard behind the curtain trying to make the world no longer question the credibility of a paper cut out with a belt around its waist.
Thing is, Ms Roberts and I believe this to be the saddest truth of all. Everyone has already bought in, everyone except you.
This is where I happen to expect some kind of witty reply, or something to prove this isn’t the case aside from a passive aggressive declaration that I can’t possibly be right since you still happen to hold the gold. Of course, what I expect and reality never quite seem to align and therefore when the inevitable happens- in this case the same kind of tedium the world has come to view as excellence- consider me less than disappointed.
What you don’t happen to realize is that many already already connotate your name with this unbeatable championship façade you have presented so blatantly that there is no other option but to buy in for most. You project this arrogance and superiority so forcefully that it hits those opposing way harder than it has any right to, leaving opponents stunned and therefore easier to beat with the slightly above average ring talent you happen to possess.
Maybe it’s my background that allows me to see beyond what is exhibited, that I cannot simply ignore the sign on a poorly concealed door that says ‘The Real Mackenzie Roberts Really Isn’t Behind This Door’ while I go and focus my efforts on knocking this bronze likeness possessed by the wrestling gods from its pedestal.
It’s not your reputation I’m coming to fight though, nor is it the façade of a supposedly unstoppable champion or even the exalted beyond year title reign.
Between you and me, Ms Roberts, I’m showing up to fight the woman who’s struggling to keep her head above the rising tide of competition. I’m showing up to fight the woman who’s clinging onto the hope that I may yet buy into the hype and bury myself beneath the expectation of failure.
I’m showing up to win against a woman who’s held onto a title a year longer than she’s had any right to.
I don’t plan on proclaiming that I’m going to be your blue kryptonite, that’s just frankly cliché bordering on downright absurd. What I plan on is choking you out while you contemplate how you managed to slip through the cracks for as long as you have.
A year is a very long time for most people Ms Roberts, it must be traumatic waking every day only to wonder when the elaborate smokescreen of credibility will dissipate. Every day, hour, minute, second… Quantify it as you will, as it stands your reign is but numbers and names, hype and propaganda spewed out of proportion to the talent in question.
There is still time for you though- quite wondrous, don’t you think?
That despite all that you have wasted trying to convince a fandom already suckered into your hysteria of your greatness and worth, despite your inability to buy into your own fantasy of significance… there is still time for you.
Time that you should employ into a grander pursuit than distracting from the flimsy curtain that barely contains your utmost flaw of failed self-assurance, time that I might suggest you use to reflect upon the previous year.
With time comes change, something you’ve yet to experience on such a scale still I find you so ill-prepared for the fall as though you plan on skydiving and hoping a higher power provides you with a parachute on the way down cause you happened to pray extra hard that morning.
Consider this an olive branch in the form of an opportunity, one which you won’t thank me for immediately following LAW Rising Stars but further down the line will grow to understand the importance of- an opportunity to be free.
Freedom is a rarity you see, although not immediately obvious considering this point we live in is declared the ‘free world’ yet here you are weighed down by a burden you placed upon your own shoulders, a burden that drives you deeper into the earth with every step you take.
I don’t doubt that you’ll fight tooth and nail to remain with your title, like a tumorous growth you’ve become emotionally attached to and now cannot bear to be parted from.
Around your waist, the Marquee title has become little more than a malformed parasitic twin of gold and expectation quickly becoming septic and personally I’m more inclined to try and save the gold.
You’ve been left unchecked for too long Ms Roberts, a phantom cancerous growth of artificial self-importance spreading its malignant influence throughout LAW. Others may have bought into the terminal diagnosis and simply succumbed to mind over matter however, while I’m not gifted with X-ray vision, it’s clear enough that there is little tangible substance left beneath the surface.
You might be slightly more talented than those you’ve faced before when combined with reputational fear mongering and a false belief that you might just be the best LAW has to offer- however strip back the layers and suddenly the big, bad Mackenzie Roberts is little more than scared children stacked beneath a trench coat.
A year is a long time for most Ms Roberts, and in that time you’ve been good no doubt- hell some would argue you’ve been very good. However it should be the most worrying thought of all that a year’s worth of hard work can be neatly summarized and punctuated in the space of three seconds.
Tick, tick, tap.
Amirai xoxo