Ain't You Getting Bored With These Fake Ass Broads

And all I need is just, is just a little more time, a little bit...
I said a little more love, a little bit more sunshine...
just a little more would be fine...

There's no light when you're buried alive. Literally or metaphorically, especially if that shovel happens to be in your hand. Now you've dug a hole too deep and you can't escape it. You claw at the walls but the dirt crumbles under your nails and hits you in the face. And you wonder how you let this happen. How you dug this far in your short life... and why no one has even thought to drop a rope...

I've always been the kind of person to question things; the who, what, where, when, whys of things. But more importantly, of people. I've been accused of digging too deep. Not in their backstories mind you, because it's not our past which defines us, but our present. Rather, I burrow into who they are. Because there's always more to something or someone than what meets the eye...

Even if we won't admit it ourselves...

I'll let you in on a little secret. There's power in imperfection. Even as our name is in lights and crowds are screaming our praises. Even as we sign autographs and go to charity events. Even as they announce us to the ring on Pay-per-views and in main events. Our vices are clear, our morals tested, hearts waning and eyes darting to the left. We get called 'weak' or 'pathetic' or 'powerless' because we allow a side of us that we may not like to be revealed for all to see. We show vulnerability. Pain. Humanity.

But many people like to hide these things. They won't be made a fool of. They won't look weak. They won't get upset or bothered by things. After all, they're strong. With a thick shell and a metal mask... they're strong. Protecting themselves and their fragile egos from any harm that comes their way... they're... strong. Because strength is defined by helmets and elbow pads. Because strength is defined by protecting yourself from all harm... rather than letting it be, taking it full force, fighting... and coming out a better person. Because strength... gives you no fucking room for improvement, for growth... for innovation.

There is power... in imperfection.






"... so now I have no idea where she is."

My voice echoed through the quiet of the warmly lit cafe as I continued with a huff, "I'm so confused. Women are confusing. Which segways into something I've noticed... like, what the fuck? Everyone's suddenly lesbian??? Is this like, a new trend or something? Is it 'cool' to be gay now? To be ridiculed, abandoned by your family, seen as disgusting and immoral, et cetera and so forth? I didn't realize it was something so alluring. Then again... I'd say at least 80% of these chicks are either doing it because they hate men or to satisfy some lonely, horny ass fantasies of much of our male audience. I mean, I know I'm a muffin-lovin' dyke over here but shit... I was this way before it became 'popular'. And trust me, there's lots of times where I wish I wasn't. That's the fucking difference, but y'know... their feelings are 'real' and they totally feel like genuine relationships."

With my face in view, cynical expression and all, I stuck my tongue out and made a raspberry noise as I rolled my baby blues. I was leaning against a rather elegant looking counter, dressed in the usual dark jeans, cute tee (this one reading: Cut the Wings, Lose the Dreams with a child's parents using large scissors to snip this kid's elegant-looking wings). My bare feet tapped restlessly on the floor of the establishment I was currently in, which happened to be a hotel... with a built-in Starbucks. Yes... I was in heaven.

"But anyway, I stand by my statement... women are confusing. And psycho. And-"

"Ma'am..."

"Yes?"

"We're closing in like 40 seconds, can you please make your order?"

The young man standing there in garb way too fancy for a Starbucks kind of just stared at me in irritation. I glanced at the abstract clock on the wall behind him to see that I might have maybe sort of been talking his ear off for the past half hour... aha. Wow. Slow night.

"Oh... hmm..." I stepped away from the counter and eyeballed the black and green menu board above, before finally deciding to have something simple for the night, "I'll take a grande caramel machiatto, extra shot, throw some extra espresso in there too, top it off with a bit of whip and cinnamon. Do you think I should add in some hazelnut too? Do caramel and hazelnut go well together? Maybe I should get a venti, grande might be too big. Although... do you have a larger size than grande? I heard someone mention a mucho grande but I think they were just being racist..."

I scratched my cheek sheepishly and noticed that the guy had a particular vein in his forehead that seemed to throb when annoyed. Taking a slight step back, I put my hands up and laughed meekly, "Uh, just the... machiatto is uh... fine..."

"Fine. Name?"

Glancing behind me at the lack of line or uh, people, I slowly turned my head back to see this gentleman staring daggers at me. Feeling a bit nervous at the look I was receiving, I spat out, "Uh, El-Elskerinne."

He continued staring at me, as if he thought I was fucking with him again, and I took another step back and took a couple awkward glances around. Finally, the man sighed and got to making my caffeinated beverage. I exhaled slowly, relaxing, and looked over the lobby of this hotel. It was a little late, yeah, but I was surprised how few people were in here. A couple over by the fireplace, a middle-aged lady reading a book in the corner, a lazily dressed young man listening to music in the other corner, an elderly man doing crosswords at a table in the Starbucks area... and-

"Hey."

The voice didn't startle me as much as the hand on my shoulder, which made me jump a mile, whirl around, and get into the corniest martial arts pose possible. Standing in front of me with a blank stare was my friend, Thea Zenos, dark hair messy and covering one eye. Somehow in dark, sleek pajamas, she seemed to fit in to this hotel more than I did. Then again... when did I ever fit in?

"Uh, having problems?"

"Wut?"

"You were taking forever to get a coffee... I thought maybe you got lost."

"... my sense of direction isn't that-"

"You got lost in the bathroom of a Target and had to call me from a stall."

"It was uh... more because I wasn't sure if the man in the bathroom was transgender or just a creep..." I said that last part in a lower tone, and Thea just stared at me (people seemed to be doing that a lot) before responding with a lifted eyebrow.

"Did you seriously just go there?"

"I DIDN'T WANNA ASSUME!" I cried loudly, only to get a few nasty looks from the person reading and the one doing crosswords. Sorry that they decided to do something so boring at like 8 or 9pm at night... psh.

"Caramel Machiatto."

I finally lowered my kung fu pose and twisted around at the barista's voice. Flashing a grin, I was immediately skipping to the counter and picking my cup up only to see: Elk Scream in black sharpie on the side. Did elks even... what the frick frack? I looked back up to casually correct him, "... that isn't- oh..."

The guy was already off the clock and gone. Blinking a couple of times, I shrugged and took a sip of my machiatto as Thea and I strolled over to the fancy lookin' couches in one corner of the lobby. "It doesn't have an extra shot of espresso."

"How can you even tell?" I gave her a look now, and Thea smirked slightly, "Nevermind."

The strange looking clock still ticking, soon enough we'd taken a seat. I sank deep into the couch, coffee still in hand, while I stared at the ceiling. I was sore. Tired. Agitated. And felt so... empty. Like I'd run out of gas and not a lot was pushing me forward. Thea was trying; both hands on my back, using as much force as she could muster. But my parking brake must've been on because I was just not moving. Nothing felt like it was moving, anymore...

"E..."

"How is this fair, Sweet T?"

"Look I know you've been dealing with these losses lately," Thea started in a gentle tone as she put a hand to my knee, "But I think they're just trying to keep you challenged. They see your potential and-"

"Not that." Thea lifted her hand with a slight, perplexed frown. I continued in a dull voice, "I don't care who they throw in the ring with me. It's always the same story there. But... what I mean is... why is it that even when I try to start over, things end up worse than before?"

"Oh... you mean with-"

"I fuck up a lot."

"You are not the one to blame here, E." Thea said firmly, and I lowered my gaze from the ceiling to meet her's, "Hell I'm more to blame. But it's mostly her. She's being... irrational."

We were, of course, discussing my other friend/partner/pet/angry lil rabbit's recent uh... attitude. JB, the tiny, cute blonde who paraded around me demanding that I take the most violent or callous of routes to get my point across... had her ideologies questioned by Thea, the badass yet peace-loving woman with eyes like steel and a heart of gold. The three of us ended up in a spat over it aannnd... JB stole our rental. We hadn't seen her, or the car, since.

"JB's always been the rational one, actually." I laughed and put my free hand over my face, "And yet here I am, probably more a mess over what happened than she is."

"I don't know if that's necessarily true..." My friend was silent for a moment, before continuing in a quiet voice, "She'll come around."

"I know." With an exhale, I straightened on the couch and took another gulp of my machiatto, "Because I'm all she has left. And vice versa."

"Thanks." Thea pouted jokingly, and I grinned at her.

"You're more like the cherry on my sundae."

"Is she the sundae?"

"Depends. Wanna be on top of her? I'll record."

"Yeah no. I'm straighter than a flagpole on a summer day, sweety."

"Right. I'm more like a flagpole during a hurricane..."

"Or the flag itself."

We had a good chuckle over this before getting to a more serious topic, "So let's look at what's happened recently..."

"You mean the whole losing to people you really shouldn't have, drama surrounding a bunch of people that you've (thus far) avoided, and uh, Tyler..."

"Tyler has been the best part of what's going on." I pointed out with a scowl, "He's one of the most sane people in this industry now. Don't see that often anymore."

"Including from you."

"Exactly! It's a perfect contrast goddammit!"

"The similarities are there too. Like the whole other personality thing you guys have going o-" Thea stopped short when she realized what she was saying. Her eyes lowered slightly for a moment, before she flinched and raised them to nervously check my expression. It was cold. There's really no other way to explain it... "E, I..."

"E, I, O. And on that farm?" I finished for her, and she dropped the grimace and eyeballed me in confusion as a grin slowly crept up on my face.

"Don't worry. I'm not angry. It's behind me and I understand that things get... brought up when the opportunity arises." I placed my coffee down on the table nearby and straightened even more, lifting one finger in the air, "That said, I'll have Mr Storm to worry about at Fate of the Gods. He called me out to challenge himself, and thus giving me a challenge as well. While that's something I'm looking forward to... the feeling's mutual for this week as well."

"Zahara."

"Miss Matisse, yea. Miss Infringing upon nearly every one of my shticks since I started in this career." Sticking my lower lip out in a bitter pout, I started counting on my fingers, "I played the happy go lucky chick. I played the kindness kills personality. I played the eccentric and interesting character. I played the skeletons peeking out from a brightly painted closet door persona. And of course... I played the magician. Everything that she is... I've been."

"Except the whole 'falling for a creepy dominatrix' thing..."

"Ew. Don't remind me about that... definitely not my OTP."

"What is your OTP? Actually... what's an OTP?"

"Who you'd like to see fuck or uh, be in a relationship..."

"Oh..... and your's is?"

"Obviously me, her and JB in a vat of hot fudge."

"Wouldn't the hot fudge burn you?"

"..." I thought about that for a second, then shrugged, "Eh. Worth it."

As the two of us chatted casually, a thought ran through my mind and my electric blue eyes trailed along the scene before me. I lowered my lids and took in a breath. Thea stopped short and turned her head slightly to the side, but before she could question what was up, my eyes snapped back open and I stood bolt-right up. Incoming rant in 3.2 seconds.....

.

..

...

"This shit's boring." Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes and stared into nothing, "I keep standing around. I keep driving around. I keep... existing. And talking. And that's all I can do anymore it feels like. So why not perfect that?"

"You definitely don't go to all these exotic places anymore. But you have a lot on your mind..."

"And it's stopping me from experiencing anything!" I cried, throwing my arms up in frustration, "This whole 'adulting' thing and having 'feelings' and all that? It's stopping me from doing what I do best!"

"And what's that?"

"Dreaming." I leaned toward her, arms still crossed, as a smirk crossed my lips, "And accomplishing dreams."

"What-"

"How does one spend their time?" I said this louder now, and realization seemed to flash in Thea's eyes as she frantically scrambled to reach into her pocket, fumbling with her phone to turn it on. After a minute or so, she got it settled and was pointing it toward me. With a wink, I continued casually...

"There's too much pressure to follow the crowd. Spend your time getting high, spend your time watching life go by. TV, games, shopping trips? Where's the art? Where's the dream?" Putting one foot on the most likely expensive table, I noticed the small handful of people in the lobby glancing over. So of course... I kept on.

"You've got people who would rather use that noggin of their's. Read? I mean, sure... it's basically hallucinating while staring at ink printed on a dead tree. Crosswords? Not much different, except you're wracking your mind for answers rather than pictures. Either way, you're utilizing letters and numbers and making it something that interests you or even just wastes your time and that's fine, because it benefits you."

"Music is good for the soul. If your favorite form of art is that which can be played from your phone, on a piano, or the stereo at home? That's great. There've been studies on the benefits of music and the influence on positive development in young children, as well as it's influence on those with mental illness or learning disabilities. Whether it be to relax and unwind, to get pumped up with, or to use as a catalyst to your own creativity or productivity... music is to be considered art just as books and easels are."

"Okay...?" Thea seemed a bit befuddled. Prolly because I didn't seem to have a point. Ha. She should know better.

"Now... can words, simple... spoken word... be art?" My question caught my friend off guard as I awaited her answer.

"Uh, I mean... actors I guess..."

"Communication and socialization!" I said this loudly again, making Sweet T cringe, as I dramatically threw my arms out, "Why else do we have psychiatrists? They're there to talk. Motivational speakers! Political addresses! Hell, the shit I'm doin' right now! We speak and are spoken to and, for the most part, it is to get a point across. That guy is cute and I'm verbalizing that to you! I like big butts and cannot lie, and letting you know that all other brothers can't deny! I'm a tough guy who thinks I'm all that and a bag of popcorn but actually have the personality of a burnt kernel! Et cetera. And so. Forth."

"And?"

"And... we wonder... what the point of any of that is." The bemused grin plastered on my face dropped suddenly as I locked onto the camera on Thea's phone.

"Words... pretty little words. Z... hon... you've reached that level. Maybe you were always there, and I was seeing someone else. Where words are what makes you... you. What you say rather than what you do. What others say and how it affects you. Are you starting to feel it? That... weird, tingling feeling whenever someone talks shit? Whenever they point out your flaws and beliefs while empowering their's with their own delusional chatter?"

Lowering both my foot and my arms, I then put my hands into my pockets and stared into space with a uncharacteristically frigid expression, "I've been told that I'm insane. That I act stupid and juvenile and try too hard. That the mask I wear is dirty and bare and lacks depth and deception, all while others play the part of the menace and the fiend and think that they do it better."

My head returned to it's original position, gaze back to the camera as the staff of the hotel were now hovering, watching cautiously, "We all have a part in this production, my dear. Some are heroes and some are villains. Some are monsters, and some are mere citizens. And then others? Well, they have costumes for every part. They own a copy of the script and have every line memorized so that when they need to, they can throw on whatever need be and get into 'character'... and you? Well you've fallen for it."

In fact... you may just be... a part of it.

A foreboding feeling flooded over me. I wasn't usually one to believe in conspiracy theories but this one made sense. And it was disheartening... to say the least. "People aren't always what they make you believe, Zahara. Maybe you are the girl I'll always name my WCW. Maybe you're lost... and a certain crowd makes you feel like you've found your way. And that's fine. I've been there. On both sides. But be wary... you really never know who's who in this world. What outfit they have on for that day or that week or even that month... that might just change in a moment's notice. I like you... not just because of our similarities. Not just because we both want to be that positive power in a sea of bitter, cold hearted bitches with nothing better to do than paint fruit gold and howl at the moon..."

I paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath and smiling slightly toward the camera now, trying to sound a bit more uplifted... but there was still that hint of sadness to my voice, "Not just because we both lack a certain amount of self confidence, but try desperately not to admit it because people expect better. Not just because expectations become baggage that make us falter in that ring, and always when it counts the most. See, I'm lucky... a good man stands in my way at the next event... at the pay-per-view. A man you and I both could easily call a 'friend'. I'm lucky... because there's nothing on the line but pride. I'm lucky... because something is weighing down on you that even I can't break through, and while I wish to the fucking heavens that I could, Z... I don't... want to. Because at the end of the day...? A win against you is a win for a dream I want to come true. You might not be getting bored of all these fake ass broads, but I sure as hell am..."

The smile dropped again, and I slowly sat back down onto the couch, eyes still zeroed in on Thea's phone, "Anyway, it might not matter. Hell, none of this fucking matters, Miss M. We're getting a paycheck at the end of the day and can still live comfortably win or lose. But for once... I wanna look after my ego. My pride is bruised. Because I know... I fucking KNOW... that I can do BETTER!"

My voice rose, a strangely pained look crossing my features... and now the staff started over, "I know that I'm capable of more! I know... I HAVE TO KNOW... THAT I'M STILL HERE SOMEWHERE!"

I was shouting now, hand to my chest as I passionately cried out, "THAT I'M NOT GONE! THAT I'M NOT THAT PLASTIC, HYSTERICAL CHILD DESPERATELY SEEKING RECOGNITION! I-"

"Ma'am!" One of the staff members tried to get my attention, but I frantically tried to sputter out what I was trying to say...

"I..."

"Ma'am, you have to-"

"I..."

Tears brimmed at the surface, as the shrill yelling faded to a whisper, as I directed my tightened voice directly to my opponent of the week... "I'm real, Zahara. Behind this smile, behind the unorthodox love of imperfection... I'm fucking real. I just... need a little more time... to prove it."

"E." Thea murmured again, slowly lowering her phone as the hotel manager grabbed my shoulder.

"Ma'am, I cannot have you screaming in the middle of the night. It's a bother to our other patrons and-"

"Hit me." I mumbled, much to the manager's bewilderment. Before he could respond, I lifted reddened eyes to meet his, "Hit. Me."

I took a step forward as the man put his hands up, obviously refusing to lay a finger on one of his paying customers. But I kept begging him... until finally...

WHACK!!!

In came Thea with the back of her hand and an aggravated look. I didn't even get a chance to react to the bruised cheek as I felt her fingers pinch it, "Obviously you're real, stupid."

She then apologized to the manager and kept walking past, heading toward the hotel room, as I stood there, eyes on the floor. With my own quiet apology to the staff and those around, I started to follow my friend, hearing the old man flip a page as he was still casually playing his crossword... and he mumbled, 

"Fucking kids..."






"Sorry about that."

We made it back to the room and put our things down. As I threw my now empty Starbucks cup into the little trash bin, Thea responded nonchalantly, "Eh. I'm used to your emotional outbursts."

She smirked toward me and plopped down onto one of the beds. I stood there for a moment, eyes on my friend as I responded slowly, "I need to work on those..."

"Eh. Highs and lows. Comes with the territory. I know how mental illness works, kiddo." That last word made me tense up, and I quickly shook my head in confusion before shrugging a shoulder.

"I uh, I guess." Rubbing the back of my neck, I moved over to the nearby desk where my laptop sat. I quietly opened it as I spoke in a clear voice, "There's something about that woman that drives me to show that bit of... vulnerability."

"Zahara??"

Glancing at Thea, I returned my gaze to my laptop's screen and murmured, "Yeah. Zahara."

Without another word, I moved my mouse up to the search bar and typed in 'Twitter'. Maybe one of the positivity pages I follow on there would make me feel better? As soon as the page loaded, I noticed that I had a few notifications and immediately squinted in suspicion. I hadn't posted anything in a while. Were people responding to things from like a week or two ago? With a slight frown, I clicked on the notifications tab at the top of the page... and froze.

"Eh? Slater? 'The way I've been acting'... what is he...??"

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Thea asked, hopping off of the bed as soon as she noticed my pale skin get even paler. She moved up behind me and read the 'conversation' I'd opened, "...'no wonder your wife and son left y'- wow, E... kinda harsh. What'd Matt do?"

"No. No, Thea, I didn't-"

"...'coming from someone who abandons family'..." She kept reading anyway, before her eyes widened in alarm. I tensed up and slowly turned my attention back to that 'conversation'. What? What?! He...

"Oh..." I murmured softly, staring at these words with an intense gaze that grew more and more... hateful. 

Here it comes.

No, no it doesn't. I violently shook my head, trying to get rid of that voice... before laughing. More and more, until it became hysterical. Thea slowly backed off with a concerned but wary gaze. The crazed smile then morphed into a sneer as I put my trembling fingers to the keyboard and narrowed that gaze. There are certain things you don't touch. Certain feelings... certain situations... that turn you into that which you once were. Matt... he knew exactly what he did by saying these things. And while he wasn't the one to start it... I'd be the one to fucking finish it. And as the colors suddenly started to drain from my view, a final agonized thought crossed my wrecked mind before everything went black...

I'm sorry, Zahara... I can't smile for you this time...