Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Oct 9, 2022 13:59:14 GMT -5
(Take One) The Mexico Incident The word Mexico dregs up traumatic memories for so many people that were fighting for their lives in the WCF - those warriors like Kyle Kemp and Teo Blaze and Bonnie Blue and Alex Richards. Frank Venable and Stephen Singh and Corey Black and Dionysus. Influential leaders like Torture and Gravedigger, who used their own influence to kick-start the next wave of dominance in the global landscape of professional wrestling, ushering in those even tangentially involved - like Spencer Adams and C.J. Phoenix. King Shit. My eyes couldn’t roll fucking harder. Mexico would always bridge Action Wrestling to someone like Brent Alpine, a name once thought to be lost in the ether, a career only searched on the Way Back Machine. A phone number in the same group-chat with Jayson Price and Chase Jackson, those numbers that could be called out of convenience if Action Wrestling needed a body to fill out an event or to handpicked and served on a platter to massage Odin Balfore’s toxically-masculine ego after yet another string of losses. Hey - I get it now. I can relate to that now. I just don’t have a pair of shriveled nuts to fondle. The tentacles of Mexico extend far, though. Joey Flash will always have a hold on Howard Black. People who have a spiritual connection to the world might look to the stars and the moon for guidance and comfort. They draw inspiration and symbolism and meaning from however they interpret those cursory signals that the universe is sending them. I have my own philosophy I love the Crescent Moon. The crescent moon is my “cup is half-full” motif, because there’s so much to see, so much to unpack - so much kept hidden in the dark, hoping to be granted the space and the permission to shine a light in and reveal. I don’t enjoy having to put on a brave face for the Action Wrestling cameras. I don’t think I deserve to have to grin and bear through the reality that I’m invested in a company that has invested their resources in a locker room full of people who seek to destroy me physically, emotionally, mentally. These people who want to break me - my body, my soul, my credibility. The World Champion ascended to greatness at my expense, twice - both times while relying on the help of menaces to my safety and my sanity. And he’s celebrated by this organization. The reigning dual-champion and All-In briefcase holder is someone whose agency in this company has been derived from escaping the shadow of Lissie fuckin’ Hope - all of the work I’ve put in for women like her to follow after me is marginalized, and trivialized. Chalked up to people accusing me of jealousy and resentment when literally nobody has walked through the Action Wrestling inferno like I did. I don’t expect gratitude. I’m not deluded enough to think my own Queen Shit should automatically be rewarded when I decided to return from my own recent venture in Mexico (Take Three). But I demand respect. Action Wrestling’s network partnership with CBS Studios extended to corporate branding of a championship belt. And as the ties kept getting stronger, I wanted to ingrain myself in the fabric of those existing ties - much to the chagrin of the executives in Las Vegas. The council of leadership lurking in the halls of every event under our banner. I wanted to make connections and keep that bridge strong enough for all of us, in spite of this lack of support. In a time of my own mental instability, I remedied my failing mental health by absorbing a product of the CBS network. The loss of my tag team championships was devastating - but I wasn’t going to allow myself to spiral without a source of comfort. Not again. I wasn’t going to have the trauma of mine and Addy’s tag team loss permeate in another Mexico Incident (Take Two), ruining our camaraderie and partnership and sisterhood for a second time. Fucking Mexico, man. It’s triggering for all of us. But I kept working. Behind the scenes, I kept those lines of communication open. I continued to network with the Big Brother production team. I continued to become a very public face who interacted with the fans. I provided commentary, I shit-posted with the best of them. I became one of them. And as the months rolled by, those ties became stronger and stronger until the point we’re at now, when Action Wrestling has introduced a battle royal, for the championship branded with the network’s name, for a match donning the namesake of the network’s biggest show. At first glance, I could assume this is my reward for healing myself through the trauma of losing championships through the work I’ve put into building and maintaining this crossover appeal. But then I hear comments from Action Wrestling ambassadors that make me think otherwise. The gatekeepers of this company who are sent out by this company - and I was one of them, recently, so I know the dynamics of this shit first-hand - I see these very public comments calling into question my relationship with this organization. Calling out my outreach as distracting. These company cornerstones and corporate yes-men who find themselves on charity events are literally blowing up my phone doubting my commitment to Sparkle Motion like this is a fucking Donnie Darko remake. And maybe it is - Johnny does love my sexy bunny get-up, after all. Nevermind that Jill Park had her own fucking television show. Or that Frank Venable fucked his way into a Mountain Dew deal. Forgive me if I can’t help but say fuck you, with peace and love. I think this event, and this battle royal is just this company’s attempt to placate me. I’ve heard rumblings that this is just another spoonfed ego-booster for Lissie This is an event designed for me. This is a Championship match with my name all over it. Do I want to be a Champion in Action Wrestling again? I do. More than anything in the world. But do I want to champion Action Wrestling? These days? (Take Three) Cabo San Lucas, Mexico Johnny was out grabbing dinner, and I assume he got pulled into yet another conversation over drinks down at the tiki bar - he makes friends so easily, and I admire that. I keep myself closed off when we go out, but he’s so extra sometimes, and I love that about him. There isn’t a person he can’t speak to, even with a language barrier. I wish I had this ability. But people don’t want to know me, and maybe that’s my fault - I don’t really want people to know me, either. That’s why I’d rather lay in the hammock, letting the scorching sun burn my toes. This is how I become comfortable in my own skin - the coldness that courses through my body, veins that are fed with the blood of a black heart - I’m not vulnerable with just anyone. Those who are given a glimpse into the warmer side of me have earned it. It’s not given to those who demand it, but to those who deserve it. The people who are granted access to my space and ownership of my heart - those that can see the true Lissie fuckin’ Hope? Those people are chosen. I chose him. Sitting on the patio of our rental, enjoying the scent of the shoreline and the warmth of the sun, the sound of my phone ringing broke my introspection. I hadn’t gotten a call in days - maybe people were respecting the fact that I was enjoying our vacation, and didn’t want to bother me. Or maybe, and this might be paranoia seeping in - but maybe people are over me. And sometimes, I can’t even blame them. “I’m not the easiest person to get along with. I admit this. I can go on Twitter and speak my peace, because I’m not afraid to damage a relationship or clown on someone who deserves it. People aren’t owed my friendship - especially people who have wronged me. Taylor Hale might be a shining example of what we should all strive to be, but unending forgiveness and grace might be something I value in a role model - but it’s not something I can lend to just anyone.” “Yes, Lissie - this is exactly why we want you!” “What do you mean? You want me? For what?” “We love how much you’ve publicly advocated for Taylor throughout the season. You’ve really ingrained yourself with the fans of this show, and you saw first-hand how passionate they can be.” “I was one.” “Exactly! And we’re fans of you! To continue to build a rapport with our CBS network partners, and maybe consider future crossover opportunities, we think you’d be a fantastic choice to be a houseguest on this winter’s season of Celebrity Big Brother!” “I’m – I’m honored - and humbled - that you’re considering me.” “Is this something you’re interested in, Lissie?” “I’m, just - surprised - y’know. Out of everyone - and you’re considering me?” “Lissie - there was no debate. There is no other choice.” “Hey babe, what season you watchin’ now?” Johnny hopped in bed next to me, fully expecting me to continue binge-watching old seasons now that there were no longer 24-hour live feeds. He was so sweet to indulge my newest obsession. “Oh… that’s not Big Brother.” “Can you give me a few minutes, J? And can you set the camera on the tripod, please?” He kissed my cheek and agreed to my request. “Say what you gotta say. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” I was watching my first World Championship win. “The champ is her.” Y’all remember that, don’t you? I know it’s easy to forget. I know I’ve been banking on the remnants of that legacy for so long that maybe it’s lost some luster and meaning. Or maybe it hasn’t at all. I could walk into the locker in Seattle and see it in all your faces. I can hear your whispers in the quiet corners, I can feel all of that resentment in the shadows. The echoes of your hatred and disrespect will forever be ingrained in every space we share. And it’s okay. Because I don’t have to prove anything to Tatiana Jolee or Alex Calaway or Tony Savage. I have enough respect for them not to drag their names through the mud. I don’t owe anything - not my thoughts, not my words - to Roman or Kano or Marcus or Niobe. I won’t disparage them, like they surely will me, because I don’t fucking know them. This is about creating and defying expectations. Selling your self. Owning your story. I create my own expectations. I choose which paths to forge through. I choose how I’m rewarded. This isn’t about the battle royal, or the CBS Champion. This has never been about anything other than me. And my fight. My restoration. This is my time to right the ship. This title belongs around my shoulder. I’m choosing to be the face of the CBS Championship.. Because the CBS Network - and Action Wrestling - have chosen me to carry the torch. Did you forget that quickly? THE CHAMP IS HER. Because this? This ain’t ancient history. We’re rewriting 🅷🅴🆁🅂🅃🄾🅁🅈. |
