[He'll Never Know]
It was hard. Everyone thinks it was easy like Sunday morning, but it wasn’t. I’d like to see someone look into the eyes of the person they love, and tell them that it all has to end. But what’s worse? Is coming home and finding all their stuff was gone.
I was to blame for this. It was all my fault. I was always too into myself, and never into John enough. I loved him. Nothing could have ever changed that, but how I feel? He’ll never know.
Work was always a stressor. We had the same job, on the opposite sides of the rope. he was the crowd favorite. He was cheered for when he was winning, and worried for when he was hurt. I was the bad guy. People wished I would get injured. We were mortal enemies living a double life, and it worked for a while.
We would have little getaways, in our hotel rooms. He would order the nicest food he could get, all laid out on shiny silver platters, and we would sit around in our soft bathrobes and talk about forever. He’ll never know how much I really wanted forever with him.
Then he got hurt, the victim of a plan between Mr. Kennedy and Vince McMahon in order to get him out of the limelight for a while. Everything was ripped away from him, and handed to me. I was there for his surgery; there to see his one weakness; being human.
I felt bad coming home and telling him about my day, the meetings to plan the pay per views and television tapings, the talks with other wrestlers about how glad they were that John was gone, and that other people would have a chance to shine. And I participated in all those conversations, mainly because not that many people knew we were together. I felt bad, because I was the one who was in the spotlight.
So I stopped coming home to our apartment, that we had picked out and decorated together, because I felt bad. I ignored his phone calls because I was too busy trying to protect him from depression. Not that he’ll ever know.
I’m sure he thought the worst; that I was out with someone else, trying to make memories to replace the ones that had filled my head. But I wasn’t. I would go and visit my Mom, or walk around Barnes and Noble. I didn’t want to make new memories, I just wanted our old ones back.
I don’t even know when he actually walked out on me; just that one day I actually went home, and all his stupid rap CDs, and his XBOX360 were gone. I pride myself on not being emotional, but I cried that night. I dropped to my knees on our cherry wood floor; the floor that had been specially installed because you liked the color, and I bawled like a baby.
I wanted to call him, but I didn’t know the words to use to explain what was going on in my brain. So instead of dwelling, I pretended to move on. I went out with other people, gave up our apartment, and moved in with an old friend. But he’ll never know.
I saw him at shows more and more when his pectoral started to heal. I knew he couldn’t stay away from his one and only passion. I wanted to be his passion again, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye as a person. I had stolen everything from him, and I couldn’t even apologize.
So I acted out. I became the asshole that everyone assumed I was already, and got to be very hard to work with. I didn’t want to get close to anyone else. And in a way, I wanted him to know I was lost. But does he know? I’ve got no idea. I haven’t talked to him about anything other than wrestling for months.
Now, we’re on the verge of the most important matches of our lives, which is going to make or break out situations for the next sixth months, and I don’t know how it is going to go, or who I can trust deep down, I wish I was still in bed with him, talking things out, making me feel better. But he’ll never know
I knew I couldn’t trust Hunter, he had proved that so many times., but I wanted so bad to believe if something bad happened, I could trust him. Not that I deserve his trust, or expect it. I wanted to feel like you had felt, when you were hurt, but didn’t want to disappoint the fans. You had whispered in my ear “Take care of me, Sugar.” And this is what I did to take care of you. This is where we were after all this. Indifferent.
When it all came down to it, it was my fault. I couldn’t take the pressure of being the champion, or being the boyfriend, and most of all, just being a normal adult. The lights shining soley on me, had proven to be far too much for me, in the ring and in the bedroom. It had taken a lot of nights alone to realize that, and now that I realize what I had lost, I wanted it back.
But he was too good a person to give me the satisfaction of knowing that he missed me. I would catch his eye every once in awhile, and my heart would ache. But his face wouldn’t change at all. He had those same strong features, and once I had known how to make him smile. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore. He still makes me smile. But he’ll never know.
I was to blame for this. It was all my fault. I was always too into myself, and never into John enough. I loved him. Nothing could have ever changed that, but how I feel? He’ll never know.
Work was always a stressor. We had the same job, on the opposite sides of the rope. he was the crowd favorite. He was cheered for when he was winning, and worried for when he was hurt. I was the bad guy. People wished I would get injured. We were mortal enemies living a double life, and it worked for a while.
We would have little getaways, in our hotel rooms. He would order the nicest food he could get, all laid out on shiny silver platters, and we would sit around in our soft bathrobes and talk about forever. He’ll never know how much I really wanted forever with him.
Then he got hurt, the victim of a plan between Mr. Kennedy and Vince McMahon in order to get him out of the limelight for a while. Everything was ripped away from him, and handed to me. I was there for his surgery; there to see his one weakness; being human.
I felt bad coming home and telling him about my day, the meetings to plan the pay per views and television tapings, the talks with other wrestlers about how glad they were that John was gone, and that other people would have a chance to shine. And I participated in all those conversations, mainly because not that many people knew we were together. I felt bad, because I was the one who was in the spotlight.
So I stopped coming home to our apartment, that we had picked out and decorated together, because I felt bad. I ignored his phone calls because I was too busy trying to protect him from depression. Not that he’ll ever know.
I’m sure he thought the worst; that I was out with someone else, trying to make memories to replace the ones that had filled my head. But I wasn’t. I would go and visit my Mom, or walk around Barnes and Noble. I didn’t want to make new memories, I just wanted our old ones back.
I don’t even know when he actually walked out on me; just that one day I actually went home, and all his stupid rap CDs, and his XBOX360 were gone. I pride myself on not being emotional, but I cried that night. I dropped to my knees on our cherry wood floor; the floor that had been specially installed because you liked the color, and I bawled like a baby.
I wanted to call him, but I didn’t know the words to use to explain what was going on in my brain. So instead of dwelling, I pretended to move on. I went out with other people, gave up our apartment, and moved in with an old friend. But he’ll never know.
I saw him at shows more and more when his pectoral started to heal. I knew he couldn’t stay away from his one and only passion. I wanted to be his passion again, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye as a person. I had stolen everything from him, and I couldn’t even apologize.
So I acted out. I became the asshole that everyone assumed I was already, and got to be very hard to work with. I didn’t want to get close to anyone else. And in a way, I wanted him to know I was lost. But does he know? I’ve got no idea. I haven’t talked to him about anything other than wrestling for months.
Now, we’re on the verge of the most important matches of our lives, which is going to make or break out situations for the next sixth months, and I don’t know how it is going to go, or who I can trust deep down, I wish I was still in bed with him, talking things out, making me feel better. But he’ll never know
I knew I couldn’t trust Hunter, he had proved that so many times., but I wanted so bad to believe if something bad happened, I could trust him. Not that I deserve his trust, or expect it. I wanted to feel like you had felt, when you were hurt, but didn’t want to disappoint the fans. You had whispered in my ear “Take care of me, Sugar.” And this is what I did to take care of you. This is where we were after all this. Indifferent.
When it all came down to it, it was my fault. I couldn’t take the pressure of being the champion, or being the boyfriend, and most of all, just being a normal adult. The lights shining soley on me, had proven to be far too much for me, in the ring and in the bedroom. It had taken a lot of nights alone to realize that, and now that I realize what I had lost, I wanted it back.
But he was too good a person to give me the satisfaction of knowing that he missed me. I would catch his eye every once in awhile, and my heart would ache. But his face wouldn’t change at all. He had those same strong features, and once I had known how to make him smile. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore. He still makes me smile. But he’ll never know.