Post by Storm on May 10, 2017 18:49:10 GMT -5
"I've never been good at stories."
I'm too inconsistent, incoherent, and when it comes to it I can barely get anything out of my mouth. I guess it's a character flaw. Don't get me wrong, I'm good at trash talkin', but that's part of my profession. But when it comes to delving within, and finding a subject relatively close to the person I am outside of the ring, I stumble. Because the truth is, who I am inside the ring is a completely different person to who I am out of it. A lot of people say that "I am, what you see", that's not the case for me.
Never has been.
Becoming someone else entirely when I step in the ring, it's something that just happens; it's natural and organic. But outside of that, I keep myself to myself - with not many friends, enough to get by, an on and off relationship with the mother of my child, who's coming up to her first birthday.
I don't talk much.
Gretchen says that's why we never worked out. She says never, but she still lets me in whenever I knock. It's like she's addicted, she just can't get enough. But I'm the same. We're toxic and we know it. But there'll come a day where she meets some stud who fulfills all her needs. That day is coming. But until that day, I'll cling to whatever we have right now. But that's enough for me. Her presence, is enough for me.
But back to the subject in hand; stories, nah, that's never been me. I have an abundance of them but I could never tell em. Because if I tell the world, or even you, it's out there, it's not mine anymore. I'm exposed and thought of that scares me to death. Scares me than anything. I don't want to be an open book. I'm a closed book buried deep in the archives of your local library, that book that you keep searching for but can't find. People know enough.. they know I'm a schizo, and going off that they've already got an idea of who I am as a person.
Funny, isn't it?
But I'm not the guy people think I am. I'm not. I promise you that. I'm much more and maybe, just maybe.. I'll let you, I'll let the world in.
There's a silence once Mark finished his sentence. His hands tucked into his pockets with his arms tightly by his side as he stood nervously, nodding his head ever so slightly whilst his eyes were shut, tight. A gentle applause ensued, which got louder and louder, forcing Storm to open his eyes and acknowledge those around him. His routine support group applauding him as he stood humbly, a smile beginning to etch on his face as he retreated backwards towards his seat, and with a smirk he collapsed down to his seat.
This was tough for him.
It'd been a while, since he last shared. But that was with a completely different group, and these people he was surrounded with, they were all new to him. His shrink Lisa Erickson advised him to visit one of the sessions and here he was, bubbling with pride as he laid back in his seat, clasping his hands together. He literally knew no one, although the man who was taking the session did look oddly familiar.
"Thank you, Mark." the man said, with an assertive British accent, getting up to his feet and winking at him. "Guys, that's it for this week. You know the drill, there's some refreshments on your way out - it's been great to see you all, and I'll see you this time next week!"
And with that said, the class rose to their seat and headed toward the exit. All apart from Storm, who remained in his seat - looking at the head of the session, who had his back against Storm, shuffling pieces of paper and placing them into his backpack.
He knew him. He recognized him. But he couldn't quite nail down where from.
He was tall; of black descent, British with a decent build, you'd think he'd gym just by the look of him, around the age of 40, maybe even pushing towards 45?
"Mark Storm.. Erickson told me you were gonna make an effort, but I didn't think you'd actually come."
The man said, which gained the attention of Storm who had been daydreaming.
"She spoke so highly of you." He spoke softly, scoffing before continuing. "Had to come down, see what all of this was about, y'know?"
Mark got to his feet as the man turned around, a smile embedded on his face.
"Did it help?" He inquired, with a genuine care. "Y'know, coming down here and sharing, must've been tough. Especially since you've been ghosting for quite some time."
"How did you know?" Mark was intrigued, was he fan? Maybe that's where he'd seen him, a few shows, maybe he'd been there as a spectator.
He laughed, zipping his back and throwing it over his shoulder. "Someone like Mark Storm decides he doesn't want to wrestle anymore, but without any say, or even any indication.. he just vanishes. People notice things Mark." Or maybe he was just smart. "Did it help though, in all seriousness?"
"Yeah, I hadn't uh.. y'know, been around many people.. lately.. I guess uh, all of my friends.. are still pretty pissed I kinda just up and left."
"Do you think they should be?"
Mark snarled, "How much you chargin' an hour?"
The man laughed as a response; "I'm being serious! No bullshit, no hourly, just two guys having a conversation."
"Yeah I guess you're right. But yeah.. I haven't been a good.. uh.. a good friend, lately."
All of his friends, gone.
Why was he so content with that?
"Yeah, we've all been there, trust me."
By now the two men were out in the open, with the cold air brushing pass the both of them.
"Do I know you from somewhere? I mean.. have I seen you before?" He was dying to ask, and it just came out.
The man laughed; wrapping a scarf round his neck and turning to Mark, with a grin on his face.
"Oh come on.. it hasn't been that long, Mark."
He said whilst walking away, with the weather picking up; he obviously had somewhere to be, as he was in a hurry. "I'll see you next week!" He shouted, turning away and running off into the distance, with something dropping out of his pocket. "Wait!" Mark shouted but he was too late. He walked up toward the piece of paper that dropped out of his pocket, picking it up, it read; Ezekiel James.
