It Is What It Is

I despise people with fragile egos. Idealist perfectionists who chase the dreamy self-reflection they hold of themselves that exists beyond all forms of reality.

I despise their inability to craft. Despise their inability to manifest. And yet, convinced entirely that their meagre place in all things, the patch of fucking dirt they call a home, is more than just that. Lowly, insignificant, yet the delusion of self-worth far exceeds what is true. It’s enough to convince them that they are unbound beyond the mere two-by-two foot space the likes of myself graciously gift them, to continue their unimportant and minuscule existence. Just a crumb of humility would see their fortunes change. Sadly... they are beyond that. It’s a problem that feeds back on itself time and time again. Their vulnerable reality is a stain that they can’t cope with the world seeing... they shield it as much as possible, often through overreaching in rather shambolic ways. Anything to convince the masses that they are not so easily vulnerable, that they are not “weak,” that they cannot be embarrassed. The pursuit of the “perfectionist” is never one that succeeds and yet their shortcomings in being able to find that humility stifles whatever adventure they hope to see through... whatever riches lie ahead are forever pushed beyond their reach. It is a necessity for them to find ways of constantly re-establishing their idealist self in the public’s mind and anything less than that is simply unacceptable. I can understand it if we’re speaking about more embarrassing moments, more less than ideal outcomes, but in this world the differences are ultimately insignificant enough that nobody notices... nor do they give a flying fuck.

It’s only when they are placed front and center by the individual more insecure that they become a problem. “It is what it is” should not really be a controversial statement.

Throughout my short career thus far as a professional wrestler, for all my greatness that none of your currently regarded “best” will ever meet or let alone surpass, these simple words are the conclusion reached when nothing goes to plan.

Move forward... never be stagnate.

Some people in this locker room should have it tattooed in the back of their mind. It would serve them well to remember it to avoid wasting time attempting to correct something that never quite needs to be corrected. Perhaps a pipe dream to loft such expectations on the pathetically weak, constantly seeing their next ego trip but alas, I am a MAN who has optimistic views set as a default. Not everything can go according to plan all the time in these parts. Victories and defeats are nothing more than moving pieces in a game of chess; very few ever put you in the position for checkmate. The big picture is that one defeat is a mere stumble and whatever goals and ambitions you hold are never quite under threat. That’s why I will never understand these people. These people like Tomi Venus. The man formerly known as Target Smiles. Why there is the vitriolic response to these moments; why there is such an incomprehensible addiction to seeking apparent justice. It is what it is and you move on. It is what it is and you simply look for the next big step in your journey. Our imperfections are what makes us stronger in the end, not weaker much to the dismay of the weak minded. Defeats and shortcomings should never hinder progress, but only when you are stagnate. And to remain hung up? What possible good is there?! Time creeps by, now you are a month behind, behind on where you hoped to be. Yet nothing has been gained. Nothing is guaranteed to be gained. Rather... it is more likely that yet another month will quickly race past your eyes and you will still have NOTHING. But, this is something that feeds back on itself. Failure, leading to more failure, leading to growing frustrations, leading to more vitriolic outbursts, leading to more unreasonable attempts to fill a void that you yourself made larger. “It is what it is” has always and always will be enough to keep the head up and looking forward in wake of utter disappointment. It helps avoid what is more often than not a calamity of your progression. Find a gun, raise it and blowing the fucking brains out of whatever you hoped to achieve in the coming months. Or? Accept what you don’t like. Accept defeat. Accept that nothing went to plan. Much like what is going to happen this weekend, Tomi. A former Prodigy Champion who is grasping for straws at his former glory. A man who once thought he was at the top of his game, who is now facing “newcomers” such as myself. A man who probably thought at one point that he had the PCW World Heavyweight Championship within his grasp just because he was able to pull a title win out of his ass against Mercadier de Leon months ago.

You’re fragile, Tomi.

FUCKING FRAGILE.

And it’s something to be shameful of.

It doesn’t matter what has happened during your career here in the PCW when all you are right here... RIGHT NOW... is someone relentlessly trapped in the moment.

Here’s my goal, Tomi.

I am going to become the PCW World Heavyweight Champion before you even think about touching that belt.

I bet you are asking yourself, “Who the hell is this guy who is making such a bold claim?”

I’m the Warlord, Tomi. I am motherfuckin’ CYRUS. A specimen that you could only ever dream about becoming. A specimen far beyond what your brain can ever wrap around. A specimen who looks to not only rule this pathetic company with an iron fist... but to also smash it and re-build it in his image. I am going to relish in the moment that I am standing over your lifeless, pathetic body, Tomi.

It’s a blood bath you want, eh?

DEAL.