Wrestling With My Thoughts
Creative Non-Fiction
Another day in the crowd with my closest friends at a battle located within a gym.
Another day fantasizing my ultimate dream.
Again and again, sort of like deja vu, I stare at the “squared circle” in front of me.
Whether I’m blending in with the bleachers or whether I’m front and center at ringside, this wonderland of a life is what I’ve needed all along.
Who would’ve thought that a once “girly girl” who liked all things pink and trendy and obsessed over the bowl cut of a young Justin Bieber, who then turned into a Pokémon card-collecting weirdo, would’ve transformed into a punk rock, violence-loving wrestling fan?
I must’ve known that this would be my getaway from the realities of the Earth.
I must’ve known that this unusual, violent, grueling artform would change my life forever.
I must’ve known that this would be the central method to escape the world of the overwhelming emotions of my constantly evolving female body.
I must’ve known that I would finally find other people like me who enjoy the same hobbies that I do in this widely unique spectrum.
The intensely whimsical world of professional wrestling, in its many ways of presentation, whether it’s to the entire world and its landscapes or only to a small crowd in a local sports complex, developed a journey in my mind filled with positive inclines and depressing downfalls.
On most days of my teenage life, I usually feel normal and sometimes even ecstatic.
On others are the ever-so-mentioned “depressing downfalls,” in which my mind, body, and soul lose it all and express it with unexpected tears over doubt, hopelessness, trivial problems, and internal discombobulation, even when I’m not on the dreadful menstrual cycle at most times.
Constant heavy breathing, being frozen in place, losing focus, intense sobbing,
even over the smallest dispute with someone.
They are truly the worst of times, and they haven’t stopped.
The dark forest of the downsides of my mental health still seem to lure me in with the smallest hope, which would soon fade away in that moment.
And then there was professional wrestling.
Watching it transforms me into a universe consisting of campy, badass, rude, joyous, and many other types of warriors fighting for their lives each night.
It brings the same emotions that I feel each and every day of my teenage life, but they feel more heartfelt and joyous rather than depressing and overwhelming.
What tops off the cake, usually at local independent wrestling shows, specifically the International Wrestling Cartel (IWC), resigning in Pennsylvania, is that you have the opportunity to develop conversations with these warriors.
You can use your other abilities in your resume to create art or gifts for them, which makes me the happiest.
To talk to these heroes who battle constantly,
To know their stories,
And to know what it’s like makes me the most infatuated with the sport.
Though I am only a young teen who is bantering with these drastically older performers, I am able to make connections with these larger-than-life characters, which feels fulfilling and wonderful to my juvenile mind.
Another major topping to the cake of professional wrestling is the other supporters of the sport, also known as the fans.
Whether they are friends you know well from school or people from online who you know very minimal about, we all share the same joys and passions over the art of each performance, making witty comments and funny gestures along the way.
These bonds are what make the sport so important to me.
It opens new gates to break free of my many insecurities that I secretly have.
All the times I thought I wasn’t good enough for this world,
All the times I’ve criticized myself,
All the times I’ve sobbed and sobbed over the smallest issues fade away in these couple hours of fighting between these warriors,
Between these performers,
Between these wrestlers,
Between these heroes.
Then there’s my future.
The ultimate I wish to have: becoming a personality in this ever growing business.
Whether it’s as a warrior I’ve created under the pseudonym of “Violent” Violet Jones,
or as a person helping out with other activities within the art,
I truly want to be apart.
Apart of the art,
Apart of the sport,
Apart of a new mural for the next generation of wrestling personalities,
I want to make it.
I want to be that performer,
That entertainer,
That hero to someone new.
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