Perfect Illusion
Dec 8, 2016 22:52:49 GMT -5
Post by Savannah Taylor on Dec 8, 2016 22:52:49 GMT -5
*Off Camera thoughts*
I did it.
I did what few even gave me a chance to do. I beat Dan Herrera right in the middle of the ring. The feeling I had when I pinned his shoulders to the mat and got my hand raised in victory was something I haven’t felt in a long time. Let me tell you, that win while being stuck in the middle of a rut was borderline euphoric. But if I’m being honest, the feeling I had after beating Dan was only temporary. As soon as I walked back through the curtains and saw the the faces of my fellow coworkers, I could feel the animosity coming off in waves. I could see the looks of derision and ambivalence being tossed in my direction.
I couldn’t make it to my dressing room fast enough.
I’ve dealt with this kind of behavior before, in another far off place. I should be used to this by now. But I’m not. I can play it off like every insult or derogatory remark hurled my way doesn’t affect me. If people only knew what happens when I’m in the solitary confines of my hotel room. If people could only see just how close I get to falling apart each and every night, the amount of tears I shed, maybe they would change their tune.
Fat chance.
Look, I know I am not a good person. I am not meant to have and happy things happen to me. I haven’t been the same since July, when my world literally began to fall apart. Magnus Gunner resurfaced and made my life a living hell. My mother died. I lost contact with my father and temporarily with my sister. I shoved away the one person who was just trying to be there for me, who did nothing but love me, all because I’m a freaking, selfish idiot. Then my father decided that his life was no longer worth living, so he committed suicide. Couple everything that has happened with me this year with this slump, and I am pretty much on a path for a breakdown.
There are times where I wish I could go back in time and trade places with my father on that fateful November day. Maybe if that happened, people could go on with their lives. Maybe if I wasn’t around, things could go back to normal without me around to fuck things up.
But instead here I remain. What fun.
Now to add insult to injury, the Executive Committee has decided to see how far they can push me to the breaking point by having me face Cordy Stevenson. On what planet am I even worthy of a match against her? Why do I get to be her first match since becoming World Champion? I mean, we have a whole roster full of more worthy candidates. Why me? My confidence is already on shaky ground. The thought of facing Cordy has me teetering on the nonexistent territory.
I’ve been questioning a lot lately. I’ve been questioning whether or not I need to seek additional help to deal with the myriad of issues that I have going on. I know I need someone to just listen to me, to be there for me. Professional help seems to be the way to go. But there is one more thing that has been rattling around in my brain, and it scares me. It scares me because this wrestling career? It’s pretty much all I have and all that I am even marginally good at.
If I can’t do a damn thing against Cordy Stevenson, then what business do I even have remaining in wrestling?
Wednesday, December 7th, 2016
Boston, Massachusetts
ON CAMERA
(A seemingly nondescript room comes into focus, with the primary subject of attention being a simple, high backed black office-type chair. Vibrant blue walls give the room a somewhat relaxed vibe. As the camera continues to focus on the chair, there is a figure seated rather comfortably. Upon closer inspection, the figure is none other than Savannah Taylor. Dressed like she had just finished up a workout, she brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes as she focuses on the camera placed in front of her.)
It’s funny how much things change within the span of a week, a month, or even a year. It was this date one year ago where I experienced both the best and worst night of my professional career. I had finally achieved what no one thought was even possible, what no one thought I could do. I was finally at the top and I felt pretty damn good. I felt like I was finally being taken as a legit threat. Only, that happiness was short lived because within the blink of an eye, everything was changed. The carpet had been yanked out from underneath everyone’s feet. I could get into detail, but I’m sure everyone knows what happened by now. If not? Google it. Now one year later, it’s an entirely different ballgame. The events of one year ago are long behind us, AS THEY SHOULD REMAIN.
Two weeks ago, I did what no one thought possible. Two weeks ago, I did what not one single person thought I was able to do. Two weeks ago, I beat Dan Herrera in this middle of the ring. That’s right. I pinned one half of the “fearsome” World Tag Team champions. Not only did I win, I sent a few shock waves throughout the arena. The look on Dan’s face when I had my hand raised in victory was almost as great as his girlfriend’s face…..Mango or Avocado or whatever the hell her name is. Now Dan, I am willing to give you some semblance of credit. You do hit as hard as you claim. You aren’t THAT bad of a wrestler. Unfortunately for you….I was better. But if you ever want a rematch, then you know how to find me. Now each person takes a loss differently. I almost imagine that after you left the ring, you gathered your thoughts, marched yourself back to the executive community and demanded that something be done about this. So what did they do? They booked me against the big gun. They booked me against the one person that the likes of you have to hide behind in order to stay relevant. They put me up against Cordy Stevenson. This has to be the wrestling equivalent of when the younger sibling gets humiliated by someone, so they sick their bigger, older sibling on them to “beat them up” and “teach them a lesson.” Well played Dan. Well played. I guess I must be moving up in the world if I’m the lucky one who gets to face the champ in her first match since winning the whole damn thing. Either that or I’ve pissed off God only knows who. Either way, this is another Vertigo and another match.
Let’s get one thing right out in the open, Cordy. I know this is a step down from the competition that you are used to facing. I know I’m not what most people would consider to be anywhere near your league. Even though you’ll more than likely tell me the opposite, you and I both know one harsh nugget of truth. I’m not on your level. Go ahead and remind everyone that I am basically a shell of the woman that you first had a chance to talk to at Heather and Andreas’ wedding. Remind everyone, and yourself, that since i signed wit FGA, one year ago tomorrow by the way, that I’ve had about as rough a road as anyone could have.
Go ahead. I’ll be waiting right over here.
I’m giving you an opportunity to state the glaringly obvious right off the bat. I’m letting you get any and everything regarding that out and in the open right away because I’ve grown used to hearing it from just about everyone. The old saying of the truth hurting? Accurate as hell. But sometimes in life, we need the truth to sting. We need the truth to cut us to the core. We need the truth to break us down. How else do we rise up and become better people? Part of becoming a better version of yourself is facing challenges head on. Real talk, Cordy..you are one of the biggest challenges around.
(Savannah reaches down and grabs her purple metal water bottle and unscrews the cap. Taking a much needed deep swig, she twists the cap back on and sets it on the small black end table that is positioned next to the chair.)
I want you to sit back for a few minutes, Cordy. I want you to get nice and comfortable because I have a little story that I would like to share with you. Now, this story may or may not be true, but I’ll leave that up to your own interpretation. This is the story about a beautiful young woman and her unending quest for greatness. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young maiden who was looking to make a name for herself in the most unforgiving and borderline barbaric world. The fair maiden’s journey would prove to be an uphill battle, as foes from all walks of life would seek her out and try to knock her down. They would try once, twice, several times. But each time the kicked her down, the fair maiden would rise up and conquer her foes in convincing fashion. This would happen all across the land until one day, the maiden arrived at the most promising of places. Here she would encounter foes of all shapes and sizes and temperaments. This would prove to be her most daunting task yet, but ever determined, the fair maiden put her nose to the grindstone and got to work. Then one day, the Gods saw fit to smile upon the fair maiden and bestow upon her the ultimate gift. That fateful day, the fair maiden was given the gift of the keys to the kingdom. It was what she had worked for her entire life. The fair maiden had finally become Queen.
But throughout her journey, not all was what it seemed. You see, there were those out in the world who did not follow the ideals of the crowd. They did not fall all over themselves in the hopes of getting so much as a GLANCE from the maiden-who-became-Queen. There were those in the kingdom who were not fans of her. There were those who had the ability to see right through her and see what they thought she really was. There were those dissenters who didn’t conform to her way of thinking. Those people, those who thought differently, were shunned. They were treated as though they were outcasts, all because they dared to think OUTSIDE of the box.
(The more she spoke, it was easy to see the angrier she was becoming. She balls her hands into fists and unclenches them a few times as she tries to calm down.)
Don’t you see what is going on here, Cordelia? Those among our peers who DARE speak ill about Saint Sexy are cast aside like yesterday’s garbage. Anyone who disagrees with the hive mentality that you are the greatest thing since sliced bread is shut down with the snap of your perfectly manicured fingers. This is EXACTLY what I left behind last year. This is the same shit on a different cycle. For that, you are no better than the inmates who ran my former asylum. But just remember one thing. There is one quote I want you to remember, one that has been drilled into my head since the day I learned to speak. It’s in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter seven, verses one and two. Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. I am a prime example of someone that should adhere to this scripture passage. I’ve been an example since day fucking ONE. But now….I’m not so alone. Look yourself in the mirror and tell me I’m wrong her. You may come to the conclusion that…….I’m very much in the right.
(She reaches up and hurriedly unties the elastic that held her blonde locks in a ponytail on top of her head. Running her fingers through, she fluffs her hair over her shoulders as she stands up from her chair.)
Where is all of this coming from? Where is this “misplaced” anger coming from? Just what happened that caused me, who you think is so level headed, to go off on Saint Sexy? Maybe it’s because I’ve been going through the motions as of late. Maybe it’s because for the first time in God knows how long, I am truly alone in this world. Or maybe, JUST maybe, I am sick to fucking death of being treated like I am subhuman. Maybe it’s because I am tired of being treated like I don’t belong here. It could be a combination of any of those reasons, so take your pick. I have had just about enough of being trapped in this career stasis. I am much better than what I’ve shown, and it is high time that changes. I think this Saturday in Boston is a great time for change. It’s just too bad I’m not so much as a blip on your precious radar. Why would you even take me seriously, Cordelia? Why would you feel threatened be threatened by someone like me when there are others who are more worthy of your time and energy? So go right ahead and worry about the others. Worry about Annie Dupree. Worry about Johnny Cannon. Worry about Chandler Scott. Worry about Izzy Anders. Those people, on any given day, are enough to give anyone fits and nightmares. Go right ahead and worry about those who you MIGHT face in the future. I’ll just be over here, getting ready to make you regret overlooking me. I’ll just be over here, waiting as patiently as i can for Saturday so you can be made aware of the very real threat you face here in the PRESENT. Because if I’m going to be dragged through hell, as so many feel that I am going to do, then I for DAMN sure am taking you with me. Get familiar with THAT….chica.
(With that, Savannah turns on her heels and exits the room as the scene fades to black.)
I did it.
I did what few even gave me a chance to do. I beat Dan Herrera right in the middle of the ring. The feeling I had when I pinned his shoulders to the mat and got my hand raised in victory was something I haven’t felt in a long time. Let me tell you, that win while being stuck in the middle of a rut was borderline euphoric. But if I’m being honest, the feeling I had after beating Dan was only temporary. As soon as I walked back through the curtains and saw the the faces of my fellow coworkers, I could feel the animosity coming off in waves. I could see the looks of derision and ambivalence being tossed in my direction.
I couldn’t make it to my dressing room fast enough.
I’ve dealt with this kind of behavior before, in another far off place. I should be used to this by now. But I’m not. I can play it off like every insult or derogatory remark hurled my way doesn’t affect me. If people only knew what happens when I’m in the solitary confines of my hotel room. If people could only see just how close I get to falling apart each and every night, the amount of tears I shed, maybe they would change their tune.
Fat chance.
Look, I know I am not a good person. I am not meant to have and happy things happen to me. I haven’t been the same since July, when my world literally began to fall apart. Magnus Gunner resurfaced and made my life a living hell. My mother died. I lost contact with my father and temporarily with my sister. I shoved away the one person who was just trying to be there for me, who did nothing but love me, all because I’m a freaking, selfish idiot. Then my father decided that his life was no longer worth living, so he committed suicide. Couple everything that has happened with me this year with this slump, and I am pretty much on a path for a breakdown.
There are times where I wish I could go back in time and trade places with my father on that fateful November day. Maybe if that happened, people could go on with their lives. Maybe if I wasn’t around, things could go back to normal without me around to fuck things up.
But instead here I remain. What fun.
Now to add insult to injury, the Executive Committee has decided to see how far they can push me to the breaking point by having me face Cordy Stevenson. On what planet am I even worthy of a match against her? Why do I get to be her first match since becoming World Champion? I mean, we have a whole roster full of more worthy candidates. Why me? My confidence is already on shaky ground. The thought of facing Cordy has me teetering on the nonexistent territory.
I’ve been questioning a lot lately. I’ve been questioning whether or not I need to seek additional help to deal with the myriad of issues that I have going on. I know I need someone to just listen to me, to be there for me. Professional help seems to be the way to go. But there is one more thing that has been rattling around in my brain, and it scares me. It scares me because this wrestling career? It’s pretty much all I have and all that I am even marginally good at.
If I can’t do a damn thing against Cordy Stevenson, then what business do I even have remaining in wrestling?
Wednesday, December 7th, 2016
Boston, Massachusetts
ON CAMERA
(A seemingly nondescript room comes into focus, with the primary subject of attention being a simple, high backed black office-type chair. Vibrant blue walls give the room a somewhat relaxed vibe. As the camera continues to focus on the chair, there is a figure seated rather comfortably. Upon closer inspection, the figure is none other than Savannah Taylor. Dressed like she had just finished up a workout, she brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes as she focuses on the camera placed in front of her.)
It’s funny how much things change within the span of a week, a month, or even a year. It was this date one year ago where I experienced both the best and worst night of my professional career. I had finally achieved what no one thought was even possible, what no one thought I could do. I was finally at the top and I felt pretty damn good. I felt like I was finally being taken as a legit threat. Only, that happiness was short lived because within the blink of an eye, everything was changed. The carpet had been yanked out from underneath everyone’s feet. I could get into detail, but I’m sure everyone knows what happened by now. If not? Google it. Now one year later, it’s an entirely different ballgame. The events of one year ago are long behind us, AS THEY SHOULD REMAIN.
Two weeks ago, I did what no one thought possible. Two weeks ago, I did what not one single person thought I was able to do. Two weeks ago, I beat Dan Herrera in this middle of the ring. That’s right. I pinned one half of the “fearsome” World Tag Team champions. Not only did I win, I sent a few shock waves throughout the arena. The look on Dan’s face when I had my hand raised in victory was almost as great as his girlfriend’s face…..Mango or Avocado or whatever the hell her name is. Now Dan, I am willing to give you some semblance of credit. You do hit as hard as you claim. You aren’t THAT bad of a wrestler. Unfortunately for you….I was better. But if you ever want a rematch, then you know how to find me. Now each person takes a loss differently. I almost imagine that after you left the ring, you gathered your thoughts, marched yourself back to the executive community and demanded that something be done about this. So what did they do? They booked me against the big gun. They booked me against the one person that the likes of you have to hide behind in order to stay relevant. They put me up against Cordy Stevenson. This has to be the wrestling equivalent of when the younger sibling gets humiliated by someone, so they sick their bigger, older sibling on them to “beat them up” and “teach them a lesson.” Well played Dan. Well played. I guess I must be moving up in the world if I’m the lucky one who gets to face the champ in her first match since winning the whole damn thing. Either that or I’ve pissed off God only knows who. Either way, this is another Vertigo and another match.
Let’s get one thing right out in the open, Cordy. I know this is a step down from the competition that you are used to facing. I know I’m not what most people would consider to be anywhere near your league. Even though you’ll more than likely tell me the opposite, you and I both know one harsh nugget of truth. I’m not on your level. Go ahead and remind everyone that I am basically a shell of the woman that you first had a chance to talk to at Heather and Andreas’ wedding. Remind everyone, and yourself, that since i signed wit FGA, one year ago tomorrow by the way, that I’ve had about as rough a road as anyone could have.
Go ahead. I’ll be waiting right over here.
I’m giving you an opportunity to state the glaringly obvious right off the bat. I’m letting you get any and everything regarding that out and in the open right away because I’ve grown used to hearing it from just about everyone. The old saying of the truth hurting? Accurate as hell. But sometimes in life, we need the truth to sting. We need the truth to cut us to the core. We need the truth to break us down. How else do we rise up and become better people? Part of becoming a better version of yourself is facing challenges head on. Real talk, Cordy..you are one of the biggest challenges around.
(Savannah reaches down and grabs her purple metal water bottle and unscrews the cap. Taking a much needed deep swig, she twists the cap back on and sets it on the small black end table that is positioned next to the chair.)
I want you to sit back for a few minutes, Cordy. I want you to get nice and comfortable because I have a little story that I would like to share with you. Now, this story may or may not be true, but I’ll leave that up to your own interpretation. This is the story about a beautiful young woman and her unending quest for greatness. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young maiden who was looking to make a name for herself in the most unforgiving and borderline barbaric world. The fair maiden’s journey would prove to be an uphill battle, as foes from all walks of life would seek her out and try to knock her down. They would try once, twice, several times. But each time the kicked her down, the fair maiden would rise up and conquer her foes in convincing fashion. This would happen all across the land until one day, the maiden arrived at the most promising of places. Here she would encounter foes of all shapes and sizes and temperaments. This would prove to be her most daunting task yet, but ever determined, the fair maiden put her nose to the grindstone and got to work. Then one day, the Gods saw fit to smile upon the fair maiden and bestow upon her the ultimate gift. That fateful day, the fair maiden was given the gift of the keys to the kingdom. It was what she had worked for her entire life. The fair maiden had finally become Queen.
But throughout her journey, not all was what it seemed. You see, there were those out in the world who did not follow the ideals of the crowd. They did not fall all over themselves in the hopes of getting so much as a GLANCE from the maiden-who-became-Queen. There were those in the kingdom who were not fans of her. There were those who had the ability to see right through her and see what they thought she really was. There were those dissenters who didn’t conform to her way of thinking. Those people, those who thought differently, were shunned. They were treated as though they were outcasts, all because they dared to think OUTSIDE of the box.
(The more she spoke, it was easy to see the angrier she was becoming. She balls her hands into fists and unclenches them a few times as she tries to calm down.)
Don’t you see what is going on here, Cordelia? Those among our peers who DARE speak ill about Saint Sexy are cast aside like yesterday’s garbage. Anyone who disagrees with the hive mentality that you are the greatest thing since sliced bread is shut down with the snap of your perfectly manicured fingers. This is EXACTLY what I left behind last year. This is the same shit on a different cycle. For that, you are no better than the inmates who ran my former asylum. But just remember one thing. There is one quote I want you to remember, one that has been drilled into my head since the day I learned to speak. It’s in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter seven, verses one and two. Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. I am a prime example of someone that should adhere to this scripture passage. I’ve been an example since day fucking ONE. But now….I’m not so alone. Look yourself in the mirror and tell me I’m wrong her. You may come to the conclusion that…….I’m very much in the right.
(She reaches up and hurriedly unties the elastic that held her blonde locks in a ponytail on top of her head. Running her fingers through, she fluffs her hair over her shoulders as she stands up from her chair.)
Where is all of this coming from? Where is this “misplaced” anger coming from? Just what happened that caused me, who you think is so level headed, to go off on Saint Sexy? Maybe it’s because I’ve been going through the motions as of late. Maybe it’s because for the first time in God knows how long, I am truly alone in this world. Or maybe, JUST maybe, I am sick to fucking death of being treated like I am subhuman. Maybe it’s because I am tired of being treated like I don’t belong here. It could be a combination of any of those reasons, so take your pick. I have had just about enough of being trapped in this career stasis. I am much better than what I’ve shown, and it is high time that changes. I think this Saturday in Boston is a great time for change. It’s just too bad I’m not so much as a blip on your precious radar. Why would you even take me seriously, Cordelia? Why would you feel threatened be threatened by someone like me when there are others who are more worthy of your time and energy? So go right ahead and worry about the others. Worry about Annie Dupree. Worry about Johnny Cannon. Worry about Chandler Scott. Worry about Izzy Anders. Those people, on any given day, are enough to give anyone fits and nightmares. Go right ahead and worry about those who you MIGHT face in the future. I’ll just be over here, getting ready to make you regret overlooking me. I’ll just be over here, waiting as patiently as i can for Saturday so you can be made aware of the very real threat you face here in the PRESENT. Because if I’m going to be dragged through hell, as so many feel that I am going to do, then I for DAMN sure am taking you with me. Get familiar with THAT….chica.
(With that, Savannah turns on her heels and exits the room as the scene fades to black.)