Post by The Miz on Jun 4, 2009 20:10:56 GMT -5
We find ourselves staring at an old and dirty house. A small garden full of dead black flowers is propped on the white wooden patio. Trees grow around the house, they too are at the end or nearing the end of their lives. The sky is dark. Dark and black. Resting, blanketing, and protecting the neighborhood. A light is on in only one window, and the camera focuses on that one window. It zooms in on it and we switch camera angles. We now find ourselves inside the house. The outside reflects on the inside. Black walls surround the room. A bed in the corner, a dresser with a TV on it sits across from the bed. An empty desk is next to the dresser. The TV on the dresser is old and has a whole through the screen. There are various holes in the wall, the size of a fist. A man sits on the bed. Long black hair falls into his face. He looks up at the camera and speaks. Pain and despair is hidden in his tone.
"It’s hard to believe two years ago I was lying in this very bed… staring at these four walls on the verge of death. Heroin overdose. See, after High School I got an addiction to it. My girlfriend left me. My mother kicked me out. No chance I’d ever find my father, he probably has the same addiction I have. I found myself at a crossroad when I barely graduated, and I took the road that looked like it was the fun one. And hey, I’m not going to lie. For a good year it was fun, but being nineteen years old, all my friends had gone away to college and I was running out of places to crash at for the night. I found myself living off the streets more nights than not. Digging through trash cans. When I was twenty, my twentieth birthday, my drug dealer… my f**king drug dealer… and I robbed a Seven Eleven. He said he’d give me some free coke. So why not? I needed some, I needed cash, and I needed some food. What could go wrong?
Everything.
The cops showed. The dealer smacked me in the head with a frying pan so he could get away, I woke up in a prison, two unfamiliar faces looking at me. Two very familiar faces. My mother. Tears were swelled up in here eyes. And my girlfriend, tears falling like rain drops from her beautiful blue eyes. I looked around. I was in jail. My mother told me if I went to rehab I’d she’d bail me out. I agreed. But I wasn’t going to rehab for her. Or my girlfriend for that matter. I was going for me. I was told it wouldn’t work any other way."
That was two years ago. This is now.
Everything.
The cops showed. The dealer smacked me in the head with a frying pan so he could get away, I woke up in a prison, two unfamiliar faces looking at me. Two very familiar faces. My mother. Tears were swelled up in here eyes. And my girlfriend, tears falling like rain drops from her beautiful blue eyes. I looked around. I was in jail. My mother told me if I went to rehab I’d she’d bail me out. I agreed. But I wasn’t going to rehab for her. Or my girlfriend for that matter. I was going for me. I was told it wouldn’t work any other way."
That was two years ago. This is now.
For the first time, the man looks up at the camera and smirks. Not an arrogant smirk. The smirk says he is changed. He is a new man. The man gets up and walks over to the desk. He pulls the drawer out and stares into it.
"I always had a dream. That dream was to become a professional wrestler…"
He pulls out a stack of photographs and sets them on the desk. As he talks about each one he flips through them.
"When I was three years old I saw my very first wrestling match. I got so into it. All the action. All the rowdy fans. Simply put; it was awesome. I loved each and every minute of it. When the guy flipped off the top and got the pin, I was stunned! So I started watching. Pretty avidly. I made costumes. I played with wrestling action figures. When I was in Elementary School, I got suspended for locking in a Boston Crab on my friend. In Middle School, I was locking leg locks in, but it wasn’t illegally. I joined the Jr. High team, and if I say so myself, I did pretty damn good going 8-2. When I got to High School, I wrestled Freshman and Sophomore year, but it kind of drifted away once I started smoking marijuana. But I already covered my troubles… after I got out of rehab I started training in the gym. Gained back my muscle. I joined a wresting school. In a short year I was wrestling matches out of various cities across the states. Six months after that, I signed a contract with the World Wrestling Entertainment. Which brings us to now."
He takes a few steps back and sits on the bed. He crosses his hands in his lap and stares into the camera, his eyes glow in the moon light.
"This Monday Night I wrestle in my first televised wrestling match. It’s history. I’m flying my mother and my girlfriend out to see it. But my opponent. He reminds me of my past. For whatever reason seeing his face, seeing his matches brings back the oh so painful memories of my deranged past. But I can’t let that stop me. Not now. Not this far into my journey. I’ve had few ups and many downs. I can’t afford another. I need to bull doze through this man, this virus to the world known as Brandovirus. I’ve defeated diseases much worse than Brando. And ya’ know, when I did that, defeated my addiction, it felt great. One of the crowning moments of my life. And now this Monday Night on Raw, against Brandovrius, I’ll feel the same feeling of self accomplishment, I’ll feel the natural high again… when I defeat the beast.
My name is Jason Matthews.
And this is my story."
My name is Jason Matthews.
And this is my story."
He stares into the camera with piercing eyes. His piercing blue eyes. He brushes the hair out of his face and gets up off the bed and walks toward the bedroom door. He opens it and slams it shut behind him. To the image of the white door, the scene fades to black.