Post by thedeadidol on Feb 1, 2008 13:55:57 GMT -5
"
Da police that's how I treat 'em, buy a way out of jail but we can't buy freedom"
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What is an idol? Webster’s dictionary has several definitions to the word. An image or other material object representing a deity to which religious worship is addressed; any person or thing regarded with blind admiration, adoration, or devotion; a mere image or semblance of something, visible but without substance, as a phantom; I am an idol.
What makes an idol? The admiration of someone to the degree that they are no longer human. They are above human and they are eternal. They are sub-human. They are immortal. They are idols. I am an idol.
What is death? Again, Webster’s dictionary gives us several definitions, all very fitting to the scenarios I see. No longer living; Deprived of life; Not endowed with life; Inanimate; No longer functioning, operating, or productive. I am dead.
What causes death? Sheer destruction of the body and torment behind understanding that causes the body to finally suffer no longer and submit to fate and the eternity of heaven or hell that follows. I am dead. I am the Dead Idol.
My mind has been abuzz as of late, never able to compute this hell I subsist in. Perhaps I am not as I believe. Maybe I am not dead. Maybe I am not the idol. Maybe I am not the deity I have made myself to be. I see myself through rose colored glasses. Perhaps I am not the supreme. Maybe, I am human.
These thoughts should not run through my head. I am more than human. Why do I have these thoughts of mortality. I am immortal. I am a deity. I am God. I am bigger than God. Crusify me for I am your new Savior. I will bring you ecstasy. Worship me and I will shower you with benevolence. I am the modern day miracle. I am the savior.
It’s been three weeks now since the accident left my face a mangled and hideous mess and I have never felt better. I am dead, yes, but at the same time I feel alive. I feel vivacious. My body is immobile, but my mind is vigorous. The doctors mumble under their breath when they are around me because they don’t want me to know what they are saying, but I still hear. My legs may be shattered, but I am still able to hear.
Despite my unconscious state, I am still able to understand what is going on around me. And with this vegetated state comes a better understanding of the human body. With my destruction comes understanding. Comprehension of the human body and what it can take before it reaches it’s breaking point as well as every weak point in it. I am at one with myself and I am a dangerous weapon. I am an idol. Idols never die. Idols are indestructible. I am the Dead Idol.
My mind is racing. It’s been one week since I debuted. I am far from perfect and not even my own perfect. I have shown I am not at one hundred percent. Win, lose, or draw, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not here to win matches.. I’m not here to lose matches. I’m here to prove something to myself. I’m here to prove that I am a survivor. I am here to show that I am not dead. I am not a vegetable. I am still alive. Self destruction is naught.
Rain falls down and splatters aimlessly on anything and anyone in it’s path. The water shows no judgment in who it damages with it’s moisture. No xenophobia. If life was like this, the world would be better. But instead of being straight and narrow, shades of black and white, everything is a thin shade of gray. But that’s how the world works. It’s not black and white. It’s highs and lows. It’s “I’ve got your back forever but only until you need me”. It’s kick them while they’re down. This world is really unique in it’s anti-prejudice destruction. Unleash your hate into me, Mother Earth. I am the brick wall to hold the flood gates. I am the enigma that solves all puzzles. But I am dead. Death by association. Death by the will to survive. I could have been immortal, but I survived.. I could have been an icon, but I was too strong.
It’s been a week since I was released from the hospital. I returned to the one love that cannot turn on me. Professional wrestling has taken me back into it’s loving arms. The tender embrace is something that I missed. My body is still showing some effects from the months of comatose but my mind seems to be at full power. My arms and legs ache even when I have just woken. My back is in a constant state of agony. None of the fingers on my left hand bend. My voice still hasn’t returned either. The doctors say it’s a lingering effect of the damage done to my face, but the doctor is a buffoon. This is the same doctor who doubted my injury was even real when I walked in my bone marrow leaking from a gaping wound in my nose. I cannot be hurt though, because you cannot hurt the unliving. I am dead..
I’m at about 60% but I’m still better than any of my peers. I think I proved that on Felo De Se. Most people go through weeks or even months before they make it on TV. I did TV on my first night. Championship opportunities come now. This week, the first round of the New Breed tournament greets me. Chris Rodriguez.. I’ve seen this guy. I’m familiar with him. He’s not of my caliber. He wishes he could be me. But so do I.. I wish I could be me. I wish I could be me from a year ago. I wish I could go back to a time before a time. I wish I avoided that night.. But that night is now my past. The night I cannot forget sits in the past, forever reminders coming in the form of definitive scarring. The night that changed my life. X is the enemy, and I am the solution..
The modern day miracle that is surgery. A man’s body can be completely destroyed but with a few snips and some artificial bones inserted, the human body can be rebuilt. The technology is there and the abilities have shown themselves. I am the six million dollar man. I have been reengineered as super human. I am bigger, faster, and stronger than I previously was, but it’s for naught. My self destructive ways have come to flourish once more, showing themselves with the gluttony that shined from them in previous lives. With my previous obliteration, I hoped to remove these impurities, but they seem to have come in just as strong. I am the unliving and the inhuman.
A park around me flourishes with life. Adolescents enjoy general merriment all around me. The grass is nearly too tall, but I seem to be the only one who notices. Caroline brought me here in hopes that it would cheer me up, but seeing these people living their lives to the fullest just brings me down even further. Caroline also took away my pen and paper, so I have no way of telling her I wish to leave. She says I am using it as a crutch. The longer I use the paper, the slower I will recover. She says I do not want to recover. Perhaps. Self destruction is glorious. But my self destruction has shown it hurts not just I, but all those around me.
I’ve been called an enigma. An unsolvable puzzle. Maybe I’m not supposed to be figured out. Maybe I’m supposed to simply exist. Caroline says I am a protagonist. She says I only see the glass as half empty instead of half full, and that I need to enjoy life. When life has beat on you for as long as it has me, and broken you to the extent that I have been, you cannot enjoy anything. I cannot even enjoy the simplest in human communication, how can I like sun? My face is a disaster and I will probably always be wearing this mask.
I’m in a tournament now in this wrestling thing. Everyone thinks that by doing what I once did, it will help me recover faster. I do not agree. I do not see what having my head driven into concrete will really help. I do not see how steel chairs will make my voice come back. I do not see what victory or defeat in wrestling will really effect me. These people are entertainers, going about this as a way of making money. I do not need the money. I am financially secure. But I’m in too deep. I can’t escape. I want to get out, but I cannot. Too many people around me are pushing me in too many directions and have trapped me in this perpetual vortex. My living side wants to yell, but no sound comes out. My crushed larynx burns with hate. To translate this hate to wrestling would be a travesty, but it’s something that must be done. With success in wrestling comes something I’ve always desired, acceptance. Acceptance by the general population. But the acceptance will come with scrutiny and the scrutiny will lead to my self destruction. The vicious circle never ends.
Da police that's how I treat 'em, buy a way out of jail but we can't buy freedom"___________________________________________
The Birth
[/b][/I][/size]The Birth
___________________________________________[/center]
xXx Idol xXx
What is an idol? Webster’s dictionary has several definitions to the word. An image or other material object representing a deity to which religious worship is addressed; any person or thing regarded with blind admiration, adoration, or devotion; a mere image or semblance of something, visible but without substance, as a phantom; I am an idol.
xXx Idol xXx
What makes an idol? The admiration of someone to the degree that they are no longer human. They are above human and they are eternal. They are sub-human. They are immortal. They are idols. I am an idol.
xXx Dead xXx
What is death? Again, Webster’s dictionary gives us several definitions, all very fitting to the scenarios I see. No longer living; Deprived of life; Not endowed with life; Inanimate; No longer functioning, operating, or productive. I am dead.
xXx Dead xXx
What causes death? Sheer destruction of the body and torment behind understanding that causes the body to finally suffer no longer and submit to fate and the eternity of heaven or hell that follows. I am dead. I am the Dead Idol.
My mind has been abuzz as of late, never able to compute this hell I subsist in. Perhaps I am not as I believe. Maybe I am not dead. Maybe I am not the idol. Maybe I am not the deity I have made myself to be. I see myself through rose colored glasses. Perhaps I am not the supreme. Maybe, I am human.
These thoughts should not run through my head. I am more than human. Why do I have these thoughts of mortality. I am immortal. I am a deity. I am God. I am bigger than God. Crusify me for I am your new Savior. I will bring you ecstasy. Worship me and I will shower you with benevolence. I am the modern day miracle. I am the savior.
It’s been three weeks now since the accident left my face a mangled and hideous mess and I have never felt better. I am dead, yes, but at the same time I feel alive. I feel vivacious. My body is immobile, but my mind is vigorous. The doctors mumble under their breath when they are around me because they don’t want me to know what they are saying, but I still hear. My legs may be shattered, but I am still able to hear.
Despite my unconscious state, I am still able to understand what is going on around me. And with this vegetated state comes a better understanding of the human body. With my destruction comes understanding. Comprehension of the human body and what it can take before it reaches it’s breaking point as well as every weak point in it. I am at one with myself and I am a dangerous weapon. I am an idol. Idols never die. Idols are indestructible. I am the Dead Idol.
___________________________________________
Strike One
[/I][/b][/size][/center]___________________________________________
xXx Dead Idol xXx
My mind is racing. It’s been one week since I debuted. I am far from perfect and not even my own perfect. I have shown I am not at one hundred percent. Win, lose, or draw, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not here to win matches.. I’m not here to lose matches. I’m here to prove something to myself. I’m here to prove that I am a survivor. I am here to show that I am not dead. I am not a vegetable. I am still alive. Self destruction is naught.
xXx Dead Idol xXx
Rain falls down and splatters aimlessly on anything and anyone in it’s path. The water shows no judgment in who it damages with it’s moisture. No xenophobia. If life was like this, the world would be better. But instead of being straight and narrow, shades of black and white, everything is a thin shade of gray. But that’s how the world works. It’s not black and white. It’s highs and lows. It’s “I’ve got your back forever but only until you need me”. It’s kick them while they’re down. This world is really unique in it’s anti-prejudice destruction. Unleash your hate into me, Mother Earth. I am the brick wall to hold the flood gates. I am the enigma that solves all puzzles. But I am dead. Death by association. Death by the will to survive. I could have been immortal, but I survived.. I could have been an icon, but I was too strong.
It’s been a week since I was released from the hospital. I returned to the one love that cannot turn on me. Professional wrestling has taken me back into it’s loving arms. The tender embrace is something that I missed. My body is still showing some effects from the months of comatose but my mind seems to be at full power. My arms and legs ache even when I have just woken. My back is in a constant state of agony. None of the fingers on my left hand bend. My voice still hasn’t returned either. The doctors say it’s a lingering effect of the damage done to my face, but the doctor is a buffoon. This is the same doctor who doubted my injury was even real when I walked in my bone marrow leaking from a gaping wound in my nose. I cannot be hurt though, because you cannot hurt the unliving. I am dead..
I’m at about 60% but I’m still better than any of my peers. I think I proved that on Felo De Se. Most people go through weeks or even months before they make it on TV. I did TV on my first night. Championship opportunities come now. This week, the first round of the New Breed tournament greets me. Chris Rodriguez.. I’ve seen this guy. I’m familiar with him. He’s not of my caliber. He wishes he could be me. But so do I.. I wish I could be me. I wish I could be me from a year ago. I wish I could go back to a time before a time. I wish I avoided that night.. But that night is now my past. The night I cannot forget sits in the past, forever reminders coming in the form of definitive scarring. The night that changed my life. X is the enemy, and I am the solution..
___________________________________________
The cracking
[/I][/b][/size][/center]___________________________________________
xXx Dead xXx
The modern day miracle that is surgery. A man’s body can be completely destroyed but with a few snips and some artificial bones inserted, the human body can be rebuilt. The technology is there and the abilities have shown themselves. I am the six million dollar man. I have been reengineered as super human. I am bigger, faster, and stronger than I previously was, but it’s for naught. My self destructive ways have come to flourish once more, showing themselves with the gluttony that shined from them in previous lives. With my previous obliteration, I hoped to remove these impurities, but they seem to have come in just as strong. I am the unliving and the inhuman.
xXx Dead xXx
A park around me flourishes with life. Adolescents enjoy general merriment all around me. The grass is nearly too tall, but I seem to be the only one who notices. Caroline brought me here in hopes that it would cheer me up, but seeing these people living their lives to the fullest just brings me down even further. Caroline also took away my pen and paper, so I have no way of telling her I wish to leave. She says I am using it as a crutch. The longer I use the paper, the slower I will recover. She says I do not want to recover. Perhaps. Self destruction is glorious. But my self destruction has shown it hurts not just I, but all those around me.
I’ve been called an enigma. An unsolvable puzzle. Maybe I’m not supposed to be figured out. Maybe I’m supposed to simply exist. Caroline says I am a protagonist. She says I only see the glass as half empty instead of half full, and that I need to enjoy life. When life has beat on you for as long as it has me, and broken you to the extent that I have been, you cannot enjoy anything. I cannot even enjoy the simplest in human communication, how can I like sun? My face is a disaster and I will probably always be wearing this mask.
I’m in a tournament now in this wrestling thing. Everyone thinks that by doing what I once did, it will help me recover faster. I do not agree. I do not see what having my head driven into concrete will really help. I do not see how steel chairs will make my voice come back. I do not see what victory or defeat in wrestling will really effect me. These people are entertainers, going about this as a way of making money. I do not need the money. I am financially secure. But I’m in too deep. I can’t escape. I want to get out, but I cannot. Too many people around me are pushing me in too many directions and have trapped me in this perpetual vortex. My living side wants to yell, but no sound comes out. My crushed larynx burns with hate. To translate this hate to wrestling would be a travesty, but it’s something that must be done. With success in wrestling comes something I’ve always desired, acceptance. Acceptance by the general population. But the acceptance will come with scrutiny and the scrutiny will lead to my self destruction. The vicious circle never ends.
