HWA Message Board: A Life of Regret

The scene opens onto a hotel bar.

It’s after Havoc, indeed, after midnight.

A few patrons are scattered around the place, but they’re leaving you well enough alone.

Your intimidating frame and general demeanour has seen to that.

You’ve phoned your wife. You’ve phoned your brother. You’ve heard from Butch and a little earlier, you’d then drank with him.

Now it’s you and your thoughts.

Or rather, you, your thoughts and your phone to capture them.

You’ve propped the phone up against one of the empty glasses and angled it to take in your upper torso.

You click the button and the timer counts down before recording proper.

’They say you should live life without regret. That it otherwise burdens you and stops you from achieving what you are truly capable of.

Do I prescribe to that? Nein.

Regret is needed. It is a part of life. But it is not remorse. They should not be conflicted.

"I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me."

"I wish I hadn’t worked so hard."

"I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings."

"I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends."

"I wish that I had let myself be happier.”

We’ve all said that, jah?

You sigh, swirling the beer in your glass gently around, leaving a white form trail in the wake only for it to be washed away almost immediately by another mirror image.

You glance back at your phone.

’The first, perhaps not so much in my own case right now. I knew from a young age I wanted to be a wrestler. My path was set und I stuck to it. Headstrong at times but I knew what I wanted. Perhaps though, in das future… I don’t want to be a… a Rick Flair… a Hulk Hogan… I will step away on top und then you will never hear from me again. Or so I hope. I don’t want to be doing this in my fifties, jah…

You take a sip of your beer, tilting the glass towards the camera as you concede the point.

’But I’m sure they said the same at my age.

As for working so hard? Jah. I do feel that. Marriage… das ist ein partnership und it takes zwei to tango. I start at the Academy early to be home early. Mein schatz und mein junge… they need me.

That leads into the next one, I need them. There was a time when I was younger… not a care in the world… I marvel at how I got by without what I now know is a giant chasm that was only filled in by both of them coming into my life when they did. I discovered them und they helped me discover myself.’

You smirk almost subconsciously at the sentiment catching you like it has.

’I’m still not so gut with expressing it, jah. Mein vater, he didn’t talk emotions… many of mein age know what I mean… but jah…

Another sip of your beer follows.

’Stayed in touch with friends? Always. Ich habe friends das world over. Any time zone, I could pick up das phone und find someone who was eating lunch, eating breakfast, clocking off work… but life gets in das way. Mein friends from home, I go months without speaking. Many times, it’s like we spoke the other day when we do… but not always…’

Another tilt of the beer glass towards the phone.

’Pick up the phones mein freunds. Call them. Talk to them.

You go somber at that thought. And at what has to be said next.

’Und “I wish that I had let myself be happier.”

I do regret this.

I work with some of my closest und most important friends in mein entire life. I do what I love. How many people get to say that?. Mein frau… my Vanessa. She ist perfect. Mein junge… my son…

Your gaze hardens.

’I can’t be happy, because some arschloch thinks to play games with them, to get to me. Some kleiner ungeziefer wants to get my attention. Some verdammte fotze needs to get his kicks in, because he’s too hühnershit to just f*cking face me like ein mann!

Your fist slams into the table, miraculously not toppling your phone over, even if it does rock back and forth threateningly for a few moments.

The sound echoes around the hotel bar, but no one lifts their heads to see, no one wants to catch any stray ire from you.

’I can’t be happy because people like you Wolfy spit in mein face. You talk the good talk und yet you carry a knife behind your back, waiting to sheath it in someone else's. F*ck you.

You wag your finger at the phone.

’I feel remorse for putting you forward for a contract. Never again. I shouldn’t have. I have no idea what possessed me that day. Someone could have sold me the moon that day und I’d have shook their hand und handed over my life savings.

What I won’t feel remorse for though is for what I’m going to do to you at Fatality.

Ein apt name for a PPV, jah. Very apt.

I’m going to end you.

You like your animals Wolfy, jah? You should know what I mean by this. You mein freund, will be like das deer in the headlights. F*cked.’

You stab your finger at the button, stopping the recording.

A deep inhalation through your nostrils follow as you try to centre yourself.

Another clenched fist impacts the table, as you get to your feet, suddenly desperate for fresh air and a lack of people nearby to be aggravated by.

The scene fades to black.