Dreamland | Coney Island Baby
Aug 28, 2022 13:38:16 GMT -5
Karlie Nash, CJ Phoenix, and 3 more like this
Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Aug 28, 2022 13:38:16 GMT -5
 “Dreamland” | CONEY ISLAND, NY It was a long way up. And then I woke up. *** The knot’s tie up your stomach, like your heart is funneling through your throat, as if you’re seasick on the treacherous waves washing over the shore - it’s a sensation that reverberates in your soul when you’re diving headfirst into the unknown. You feel like you’re floating on air, and the dizzying world flashes before your eyes like a gaussian blur on a white canvas. It isn’t anything you’ve consumed that alters your reality. It’s just the exhilaration of taking that ultimate risk with the people who comfort you, and who support you, and who will die on the sword to protect you. I’ve always felt like those who’ve gotten close to me were using me for their own benefit. Even if it wasn’t flagrant, or intentional - I could be a shield for people. I could be an easy target for the hatred and the vitriol, because there are expectations of me - how I should appear, how I should act, how I should vocalize, and how I should respond. And I’ve asked for that microscope, from the day I crash-landed in the middle of the an Action Wrestling ring. And it’s leathered my skin. I’ve become impenetrable. I can absorb the animosity because it makes me resilient, and stronger, and more independent. It gives me the courage to flourish, even when a thousand arrows are being shot in my direction. My temporary failures have never made me break the promise I made to myself, and to these fans on day one, that I wanted to be a pillar - a cornerstone - of this company moving forward. And I have been. But it hasn’t been easy. It’s scary - because the two times I’ve found myself in this position before, I wasn’t ready. It came to me very quickly, and I let it get to my head. I started off hot, before hitting a bit of a roadblock by an early loss to Sam Kidsgrove. But then I went on a tear, beating everyone who was put in front of me - people like Jakob Lister, who wanted to destroy me. Ryan Elias, who wanted to destroy my credibility. Casey Holliday wanted to humble me, and I came for her fucking neck and gave her only her third loss in thirty matches. I’m proud of the journey I’ve been on. I’m proud of how I started, what I overcame, and everything that led me to climb the ladder in the middle of the ring at Uprising 2019 - even if the fall back to earth was terrifying. I was riding a wave of momentum and potential when I outlasted QDT and Wade Moor and Teo Blaze for the All-In briefcase, but from there, the seas weren’t calm anymore. I couldn’t fly under the radar. People were starting to see what I set out here to do, and everything I was capable of, and that my objectives were in sight. And it painted a target on my back. I had to pick my friends, and my family, and my partners carefully, and there were times when I failed at that. The Royal Family? They brought me in just so I could face the fire they ignited. Spencer Adams? He found me low and vulnerable and gassed me up until he bounced when I was one foot in the grave. Philidor Holdings? In me, they found someone victimized and betrayed and gave me a life raft. I was the integral piece, the heart of Action Wrestling, that they could tether to, pumping their poison and impurities in order to blacken this company’s soul. And it’s left me - up until this moment - wondering why? Why couldn’t I return to the Lissie Hope of the Fall of 2019, when I marched through the Wrestler of the Year, snatching the World Championship from Dandy DiVito? Why I haven’t returned to the Summer of Lissie 2020, when I put my cards on the table against Frank Venable and cashed in for my second run as the World Heavyweight Champion of this company? It’s been a long two years. My chances to rectify my failures and correct my mistakes have been few and far between. I’ve never received a rematch for two championships I’ve lost. I’ve been in a single number one contendership match, only on the heels of a devastating loss at Evolution to Bonnie Blue. And now? The narrative is already out there that I was gifted this opportunity - that it’s been unearned, that I follow up losing my tag team championships with challenging for the World - and for what? Is this how Lissie fuckin’ Hope operates? “Why does Action Wrestling feel comfortable betting on her?” “Do they invest in her the most when her back is against the wall?” “Is this when she’s most dangerous?” The drafts were sent to Denzel Porter’s desk, and if it wasn’t for my performances at his Invitational, at Cannabis Cup - they would’ve been pouring out all month. People don’t usually give me the benefit of the doubt. They’re quick to kick me when I’m down, until I show them, and prove to them, that Lissie fuckin’ Hope isn’t more a mythological farce than an accomplished legacy. I’ve always wondered where I stood in the pecking order. It’s hard to stay ingrained, and in the loop, when so many backstage have been plotting my demise and betting on me to fail. The jealousy and the resentment is staggering. Some have spent a lifetime of a career fighting for the things that I earned and the success I’ve had in the first year. I’ve always made a splash. You drop the name Lissie Hope into the middle of the sea, and it’s a fuckin’ cannonball - you get pulled in the undertow - your lungs drowning - your eyes bulging - and you’re left gasping for air. It’s a blessing and it’s a fucking curse. My reputation has prevented me from getting close to people. And it’s heartbreaking - every time my people don’t turn out to be my people. But I have an inner circle now that I can trust - they keep me sane, and objective, and perceptive. They don’t allow me to spiral, like I’ve done so many times before. And I’ve given them my trust - Johnny, Addy, Ruby… Olive… Ash… - but it wasn’t without friction. But I’m wiser now. I’m more forgiving now. I’m more understanding now. I won’t allow myself to be made a fool of twice - And I’ve finally learned that I can’t do this alone. If my history is any indication, I would flounder when the pressure becomes this immense. I have a chance to reclaim my spot at the top of this industry - again! It’s so exciting, and it’s just within reach - and it’s been a long time coming. It’s something I’ve prayed for, and wished for - something I’ve dreamed of. And I’ve removed some of those vices from my life, the ones that would bury my hope at any sign of absolution. What could tear me back down are my own insecurities. My own inadequacies. Reflecting back on my past failures, my own sabotage, the self-fulfilling prophecy of doubt that forever lingers - that maybe I don’t deserve this. Sometimes I feel like I don’t. Sometimes I feel like I took a short-cut, that I didn’t put in the time and the work to lay claim to the legacy I’ve etched into stone. I’ve carved my name into the record books - the insiders and the executives, they tell me I’m a future Hall of Famer. But there are moments when I’m not sure I believe it. When I don’t feel like I stand up to the Lockhart’s and the Speede’s and the Venable’s and the Corey Black’s. They took the World Championship and they made it mean something that transcended professional wrestling. But me? Everyone tells me the same thing. I was a transitional champion. I was the underdog against Dandy DiVito. I had the briefcase, and he had spent months on the offensive, trying to get me to relinquish it. And I had a hunger, a thirst for vengeance, because he made my life a living hell. He humiliated me on the national stages. I had a reason to put my boot on his neck. Frank Venable embarrassed me on my coronation. He questioned my integrity and my values. We were the two most marketable names in the company, the two heroic faces standing at the forefront of the darkest timeline of the terror of Walter. And instead of reeling me in, he pushed me out. He took advantage of my naivety and my inexperience. And I had a reason to cash-in when he was least suspecting it. There are no saints or sinners when it comes to the World Heavyweight Championship. All anyone needs is a reason. There’s no right and wrong. Because you can do everything right, you can be gracious and kind, respected and idolized - but it can all come crashing down in an instant when the wrong person is holding the cards. I can’t come into this match preparing for a fair fight. I’ve seen what Gerard Angelo can do, the lengths he’ll go to to get ahead. I’ve experienced them first hand, way back in January when we faced for the first time in the Trials of Despair. I was seconds away from stomping his dick in the dirt, and Cass Adler - my ex-boyfriend, someone I foolishly trusted - my people don’t turn out to be my people, remember? - Cass Adler decided to grab a videocamera and smash the glass into my face. And as opportunistic as he is, Gerard Angelo took that moment to curb stomp me into the lens for good measure. My blood stained the canvas. It dripped from the shards of glass scrambled on the floor like broken eggs lying on hot pavement. I was on my redemption tour, finally free from the shackles and released from the prison that was Philidor Holdings. I was on my way to restoring my name, and repairing my reputation. I was seconds away from becoming the United States Champion. You robbed that of me, Gerard. You’ve given me a reason. *** “Wakey, wakey, houseguests.” I was watching Big Brother too damn much. Here I was, my dreamland feeling like euphoric reality, jumping from the top of the world, with my boyfriend - my best friend – only to hear the voice that those TV guests hear when they’re lost in slumber. It’s ridiculous. I trade one obsession for another. That’s what Dr. Setzler tells me - that I’m so used to having tunnel vision. My mind is constantly trained on one thing - one goal - one person and it consumes me whole. It restricts me from thinking of anything else, and it paralyzes me - and he’s right. Now that I’m clean - just passed eight months now - it’s really highlighting my issues with dependency. Because I haven’t been able to numb myself when I’m feeling down - which happens often. I could be in the best of moods one minute, and the wrong person can say the wrong thing, and it’s over. My day is ruined. My progress stops. I start to internalize and compartmentalize everything - all over again - over and over again. And the self-medication helped. It hurt everything else, but it helped me up here - in my diseased brain - and in here, in my black heart. “Wakey, wakey… houseguests.” There it was again - the voice of Big Brother, the same one Taylor hears. Joseph hears. The same one… ugh, Kyle and Alyssa… the same one they hear. And now I’m hearing it, and I’m not even watching it. I know, I know. Who the fuck believes that? It’s just my escape. It’s my temporary distraction I need to give myself a chance to live vicariously through others. I get so much fanmail by young women who see themselves in me. Who think I’ve got it all figured out. Who want to live their own lives in my image. But I’m not perfect - nothing about Lissie Hope is perfect. Not Lissie Hope - by herself - anyway. There’s so much I have to be proud of. So much I can lean into and appreciate. So many examples I can be to those who are looking for a role model. But when you dive deeper into the things I’ve earned, you’ll see the truth about the things I’ve done. The lines I’ve crossed. The people I’ve disappointed. The list is long, but it starts and ends with me. And I can’t magnify that. I owe this company and I owe myself just a sliver of this redemption I’ve always wanted. I need this reason. I need this honor. I need this World Championship. I need my Dreamland to become my reality. “Room service. It’s time to begin your day.” The sunlight poured in from the drawn curtains and washed over my face. The bay window overlooking the harbor was open, the gentle winds of the sea cascaded through the room and flooded my nostrils. I could smell the earthy coffee simmering from a cup, and gentle aroma of fresh squeezed orange juice. A breakfast platter - perfectly presented - simmered under the hood on the top of a rolling cart. “I’m up, I’m up…” I said through a yawn, extending my arms over my head. I looked to my right, and Johnny’s side of the bed was still perfectly tucked in. He hadn’t made it here yet, and in the floaty air of unconsciousness, I finally came to the realization that I’d spent the night in paradise alone. “Here is your itinerary, Miss Hope. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call the front desk. Enjoy your breakfast.” I nodded my head and covered myself up in the bedsheet once I finally realized I was dressed only in a revealing négligée. I went straight for the black coffee - it wasn’t my favorite, the Americano, but I also had to consider that I was halfway across the world, attending the wedding of James Raven and Atara Themis. I covered myself in a shawl and stepped out onto the patio. I’d been floating on air for so long, waiting for that eventual descent - the plummet back to earth - but I had to appreciate where I was. And I couldn’t wait to walk barefoot across the sands of Athens, feeling the earth under my feet. Because this was the last, remaining vestige of a life beyond wrestling. Just another distraction before it all became reality again. And my happiness and my mental wherewithal isn’t dependent on Action Wrestling - but Action Wrestling can certainly tip the scale. But I needed a distraction to keep me grounded. I couldn’t rely on Big Brother right now. I couldn’t rely on self-medication. I couldn’t depend on only myself, or partaking in Atara’s dreamland. She is my friend - and she gave me one final out before the biggest night of my life. I just couldn’t wait for Johnny to get here. I couldn’t wait to see him in his tuxedo. I couldn’t wait for him to see me in my dress. I couldn’t wait to be normal, and carefree, even if just for one night. Because at Uprising? Everything is gonna change. *** Action Wrestling doesn’t need you, Gerard. Not the way you think it does. You might’ve been on the same fast-track to success here that I benefited from, but you didn’t need to piss on my turf to do it. You derive a sick, selfish enjoyment of kicking sad puppies when they’re done. Tossing the damaged goods in the garbage bin. You’re the “Living Legend” after all, aren’t you? You’ve been at this a long time. Your accolade list stretches for years. You came into this industry when I was still running back and forth on a soccer field. But you are not ingrained in the fabric of this company - not like I am. Not like I’ve been. Action Wrestling isn’t here to cater to the whims of an arrogant troll who’s on the tail end of his career. I’m only just beginning in mine, as much as it pains you and people like you to admit. You know this is not it for me. You know this is not my final Hail Mary - that I’m still going to be here long after you. I might not have believed in myself enough in the past. I might’ve had to convince myself that I have a future. But that is not for you to tear down. That is not for you to discredit. You don’t own even a fragment of my conscious. You will have no bearing on my self-worth. I know what I mean to Action Wrestling - to everyone in the suites, to everyone in the stands, to everyone watching at home. And I know what Action Wrestling means to me. I know I can derive my purpose on this earth from being a rags to riches story of redemption. From overcoming all of the traumas I’ve carried, enriching my life in facets beyond this role play we on television screens. That’s what this is all about to you, isn’t it? You’re an actor who happens to be a gifted wrestler. Your dreamland is in front of a camera lens until you use that glass to cut someone open. My Dreamland is exposing myself, and everything I’ve experienced for all the world to see. To identify with. To empathize with. To see themselves in. You’re a movie script. A Hollywood Ending. But I’m real. Everything about me is real. That’s why I’m a better example of someone who should champion this company. That’s why I’m better equipped to not only be the face of Action Wrestling, but the soul of it, too. Action Wrestling has a black heart. Any time someone like Dandy DiVito is the face on the posters, and the headlining name on the marquees, Action Wrestling is in dire health. It needs to be revived. It needs to flourish and set an example to be proud of. It needs to fight back against the villainy and the tyranny of an evil empire like Philidor Holdings. Someone needs to take down that empire of dirt before it buries Action Wrestling under the earth. Do you see a common thread yet? Three years ago, I broke Dandy’s clutch on the Action Wrestling’s neck. It was a dark age in this company’s history, and Frank Venable and I did our damndest to give it life again. But it was temporary. I severed my ties to Philidor Holdings in a wild move last October - one that painted the target squarely on my back. And little by little, they disbanded, and their evil influence on Action Wrestling subsided until they’re now a footnote. Action Wrestling revived. And here DiVito came again, for the fourth time, and hopefully the last time. Wrapping his fingers around this company’s throat. And against all odds, you’ve beaten him. But you didn’t save Action Wrestling’s soul. You poisoned it even more. But that is only temporary. You want to know why Action Wrestling has put me in this position? Why they’ve given me this opportunity to reclaim Uprising as my Evolution? The biggest event of the summer, as Torture quoted… becomes the defining moment of my career? Year after year? Because Torture knows Action Wrestling’s soul needs saving. It needs reviving again. And Action Wrestling knows that my life, my redemption, the courage I bring and the honor I carry myself with? That’s exactly what is needed to rid their conscious of you, and people like you, Gerard. You don’t deserve the honor of being the World Champion of Action Wrestling. The dignity of it - the responsibility of it. You can’t shoulder the weight that this carries. You can’t bring Action Wrestling into the place it deserves to be. Under your reign, this has been a nightmare. Isn’t it about time for Dreamland? ***  Lissie: “I promised a lot. Assure me I can keep them.” |
