Post by "The Last King" on Oct 25, 2013 18:56:08 GMT -4
Dreams of an Absolution III
Scott Wilson's Journal
Page:Who Gives A Fuck|Chapter:Peter Shelley
A man destroyed, his hopes and dreams and elements that became more important than his entire life were dashed and ripped away from him only to send him further past the point of personal hell that he had already passed. Through no fault of his own did he face this failure yet blaming himself would not be an option to this feeble minded sociopathic parasite. Instead he would blame those around him that he envied and loathed. He hated them because of his inferiority he knew he carried and he was right to carry it. His over compensations had gotten him nowhere and his life and the structures he had recently built were crashing down around him to the point where he had almost nothing left. He was a shell of a man before but now the brutal husk of his destroyed persona and life had been long gone. One would almost pity this faded individual – a fading memory of something that once was but now could never form again. A mind and a life destroyed for what?
What was one’s end game? What was the goal at the end of this, at the end of it all? What was the game and what could be accomplished at the end of the day or the end of the competition or even the end of ones days? How could any of this help, seeing a man who had already become a failure and already be mentally and physically destroyed be pushed even further off the brink? One could not take joy in seeing this happen to a man who had lost everything twice? Such an individual must be pitied yet somehow the general thought was wrong. This individual was pitied sure, but he was a despicable man, one filled with hatred and only hate for those he blamed for his own shortcomings and mistakes.
He was the only one to blame for his mistakes and everything he did wrong. The problems in his life were caused by him and him alone yet he felt it necessary to take his problems out on those innocent people around him and dedicate his life to inflicting pain fueled by hatred on those who deserved it the least. This was a man who had been through a lot yes but by no means was this man a respectful individual full of character. He was a shell of a man now only inhabited by evil and consumed by hate. He had made it his mission to annihilate that in which I stood for and every element and value I held sacred so I was given no choice in such a sad and really unfortunate situation. It had become a mission or a duty bestowed upon me. He was a fading memory almost faded out and my job was to finish him off. Was this a task that should have been taken lightly or was it even a task that should be carried out at all?
People would disagree but I believe in my heart of hearts that this was an undertaking that needed to be done and done successfully. Scum and pathetic behavior had run wild and freely for long enough. Evil’s streak was always underlying but now it had gotten to a point where it had contaminated everything and everyone. It was a bad situation, it was a bad problem because the steam and leader of such issues was evil, not pure evil but embodied evil values and only saw pain and hatred through their blinded eyes. A nemesis can only be a nemesis for so long before you out grown them and I out grew every single one of them. This individual would be no different. It wasn't a case of whether or not ending him would be the right thing to do or now but it didn’t really matter much anymore. It didn’t matter whether it was right or wrong because he had rubbed off on me and I wanted to end him. I made it my goal and I was going to end him simply because I had the urge and desire to put him out of his misery and halt his painful, useless and meaningless existence…
I wanted to end it all now.
Yes it was only time that was the final factor in this whole dilemma for said individual now. The sand in the hourglass would continue to run down until the encounter and the final grain would fall judgment would be harshly placed upon this poor soul. A soul that I was given the unfortunate task of helping move on to a better place. He doesn’t belong here anymore and the job has fallen upon me. I would ask and yell to the skies questioning why this was bestowed upon myself and why this was etched in my destiny but that would be a hopeless task in itself. I was given this task through fate and if it were my fate to seal another’s then so be it.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to end it. I wanted to end it now, nothing would give me greater pleasure in these recent times then to end it. I would be saving others the pain, closing the mouths of those who doubted me and using another person to almost selfishly advance my own already superior and great legacy. Did I need anymore-good fortunes? Firstly I thought no I didn’t, I thought I was lucky enough to be in the position I am but those thoughts died quick when they all turned on me because of the simple fact I was better than them. Their sins of envy and greed had sealed their fate but it was unfortunate that in up coming times it was only going to be one poor soul paying the price.
There had been meltdowns, bloodbaths and massacres. I had see tears, broken bodies and broken minds here. They all fell but I always stood tall and my legacy is beyond reach of anyone else here. This one specific individual who I have to annihilate has been a thorn in my side an annoying thorn. No he wasn’t smart, or skilled or respected but he had tarnished me and I had to clean that. I had to clean it with his blood and if that meant breaking his mind, body and spirit in the process then that would just be a bonus. Time was the only thing saving him now. As the time grew closer so do we and eventually there will be no time or space left between us and we will fight. No more battles, a war will be raged and he will be broken and destroyed in a pool of his own blood and a metaphorical pool of his broken dreams, painful memories and elements of his mind that he tried to escape but couldn’t.
Blaming others and taking it out on the innocent were feeble and useless attempts to escape it all but now that I’m here I’m ready to protect them all and I’m ready to finally hold you accountable for your actions, make you answer for what you have done and finally turn you into the fading memory that you were destined to become. I’ve been waiting for this for far too long now and I thought you were too but all I can sense from you is fear. You’re scared and I can feel it and the fear only serves as a disadvantage for you. Don’t worry, soon it will be over and I will get my retribution and everything else that I’m entitled to.
I will turn you into my depiction of what I think you are for the masses to see and they will all have no choice but to believe in me. You’re nothing but a louse. You’re nothing but a psycho. You’re nothing but a coward. You’re nothing but a hypocrite. You’re nothing compared to me and you can never be anywhere near as great as me no matter how hard you try…
… You’re nothing but a fading memory.
-----
The scene opens by fading in on a shot of a cloudy sky, streaked with reds, oranges, and yellows by the light of the setting sun. A flock of young ravens suddenly takes flight, scattering into their air as the flaps of their wings and the harsh calls of their beaks fill the twilit air.
As the flock of ravens move further away, their agitated cries growing more and more distant, the camera pans downward to reveal a dirt road cutting a swathe through a grassy field. Tall greenish strands sway gently in the evening breeze, brushing up against isolated fence posts that run along either side of the road and getting tangled up in the strands of barbed-wire fencing that hang from them. A lonely cry reaches the camera, and it turns to focus on a lone Raven, hopping out of the tall grass onto the dirt road. One wing flaps incessantly, as if trying to make up for its counterpart, which hangs limply at the bird's side, bent at an odd angle. It hops slowly to the middle of the dirt road, and gives a sharp cry when two black combat boots stomp down on either side of it.
As the raven begins hopping away, frantically escaping what it perceives as an assailant, the camera pans upwards to reveal the imposing figure of Scott Wilson. Not looking at the camera, he watches as the defenseless bird does its best to get away from him, frantically trying to escape back into the tall grass lining the road. Presently, the following text fades in, ghostlike, at the bottom of the screen.
Pitiful creatures, birds.
He walks after the raven, bringing his foot down just between the raven and the tall grass, blocking its entry. The bird releases another shrill squawk and changes direction, hopping back across the dirt road for the sanctuary of the grass on the other side.
Even with the gift of flight, miraculous though it is, they are little more than skyborne rats, scavenging what they can and fleeing when something larger than themselves approaches. When there are no threats to their well-being, they are kings... dominants... alphas. The bits and seeds and insects that they consume ought to fear the hubris and candor of these skyborne predators, and rightfully so.
Scott Wilson resumes pursuit of the raven, following it across the road without the slightest bit of haste or urgency in his step.
But when something different comes along... something bigger...
He stomps down another boot, again blocking the raven's passage to safety.
They flee, neither willing nor capable of defending themselves or fighting for what is rightfully theirs. It matters not if the intruding party is a man, a hound, an automobile, or even a strong gust of wind... the weakness and ineptitude of these pitiable creatures are all-too-easily brought to light.
As the raven again tries to make its escape, Wilson stoops down and grabs it in his large, gloved hands. He stands back up and turns to fully face the camera, keeping the now-hysterical bird secure even as it pecks and bites and scratches at his sleeved arms and gloved hands.
A truly pathetic and broken-down creatures, even by the standards of others in its flock.
At this point, Scott Wilson lifts his brown eyes, smouldering behind his eldritch mask, to the camera.
In this regard, one Atlas Adams is not so different from his namesake. This week, he finds himself knelt before the throne of judgment, at the mercy of Scott Wilson. Atlas Adams, you are indeed like this... this thing in my hands. When faced with opposition smaller than you, that you can feed upon without fear of it fighting back or getting away, you are a large man indeed. But when something larger... or someone larger... shows his face and challenges you...
Suddenly, inexplicably, the raven's struggles cease. It goes silent and still in the Scott's cupped hands, eerily mirroring the deaths and disintegrations of all other living things the Scott has laid his hands on.
You fail, completely and utterly.
Scott Wilson tilts his head back downwards, gazing at the still creature in his hands.
This is such an instance. Atlas Adams, you show cavalier hubris and bold arrogance in the face of your impending judgment. Part of me is tempted to admire this... but prior experience argues against it. Many have laughed in the face of Scott Wilson, spat in the face of judgment... and they paid dearly for it, just as you shall pay for it.
Scott Wilson suddenly squeezes his hands together, completely enveloping the raven within them. A moment later, he opens them... and out flies a raven, full of life and with two fully functional wings. Scott watches as it rises higher and higher in the sky, finally free of its earthly clutches, and rushes to rejoin the rest of its flock. He then turns back to the camera, his eyes seeming to blaze even brighter behind his visage of plastic.
That will not happen to you, Atlas Adams. In our match at One Night in Hell, there will be no no-showing, no healing, no escape... and no mercy. You WILL face me, you WILL face judgment, and just like all others to have come before you, the eyes of -I- shall find you wanting.
With that, Scott Wilson turns and begins walking away from the camera, down the dirt road and into the sunset. The camera pans upwards, capturing the miraculously healed raven as it continues to ascend higher and higher into the sky. The scene slowly fades to black, after which the following words fade into existence on-screen.
Soon.
-----
Scott Wilson's Journal
Page:Who Gives A Fuck|Chapter:Level-One
Delusion is something that the weak don't experience. Delusion is something that the strong experience. These individuals exhausted by delusion withstand so much pain and anguish in their lives that they use delusion or imagination to escape before they break. The weak have everything handed to them yet act like they go through so much. They don't have to be delusional because they have minimal problems. Because they don't have to face challenges or pain makes them weak. Delusion isn't a bad thing nor is it a good thing. There is something effortlessly melodic about the imagination and how it can take your own mind off of the toughest of times.
People will act arrogant and better but blame the hate they are given on jealous and label everyone a hater when infact they are a morally destroyed, arrogant and DELUSIONAL nothing. Everyone ends at some point and when you're at the end of the road you must have gotten your life right. These people will have to face the people they are and were before they face judgement. Liars, fools, troublemakers and just plain awful people will face judgement one day and their status nor their possessions will be able to save them. We've all felt pain, we've all sweat, bled, feared, hurt and healed. We've all faced the sweet taste of victory and some of us have felt the cold touch of defeat, but defeat is what makes us human, it's what makes us competitors and warriors in life.
Defeat, hate, success, love, all you get is a turn and you only get one so make sure it's not all tared with the same brush. Make every experience different. Whether it's love, hate, success or failure - just embrace it. Be with those that you know have your best interests at heart and those that you know have your back through thick and thin. A real friend is someone that will stand and fight with you and in any case, will stand united for one cold night against the force of something against you which you'll attempt to triumph over and bury in the sands of defeat and failure while success and glory lives on well into our own individual legacies.
I know that it's believed that anyone can win and I know that I can succeed and yes in my personal life I am delusional but I have a damn good reason to be. I've delved into imagining I'm the greatest and the emotive expressions from the mind just happened to come true. We've all faced struggles and pain but people like to over glamourize their experiences. All life demands struggle. Those who have everything given to them become lazy, selfish, and insensitive to the real values of life. The very striving and hard work that we so constantly try to avoid is the major building block in the person we are.
Our duty is to encourage everyone in his struggle to live up to his own highest idea, and strive at the same time to make the ideal as near as possible to the truth and when I say truth I don't mean some kind of mystery... Everyone these days think they are on the top of a game that in reality, they have no idea how to play. The fact is, everyone can't be number one, only number one can be number one. Everyone can't never face defeat, only one can live without defeat.
I'm fighting this fight purely for freedom. So many of us have hit the ground but there are a few of us left that still care and sometimes I can't believe that we're still around. We've all felt pain, we've all sweat, bled, feared, hurt and healed. We've all faced the sweet taste of victory and some of us have felt the cold touch of defeat, but defeat is what makes us human, it's what makes us competitors and warriors in life. Defeat, hate, success, love, all you get is a turn and you only get one so make sure it's not all tared with the same brush.
Make ever experience different. Whether it is love, hate, success or failure - just embrace it. Be with those that you know have your best interests at heart and those that you know have your back through thick and thin. A real friend is someone that will stand and fight with you and in my case I will stand united even though I am alone for one cold night against the force that threatens our way of life, which we will attempt to triumph over and bury in the black shadow grains of defeat and failure while our success and lives on well into our own individual legacies. We all want to believe in a beautiful lie. We like to believe in our abilities but without the work and the faith they will never come to life.
One thing my enemy doesn’t have is faith, it is completely faithless and are being lead into the gates of darkness and defeat by a false profit who may have finally gone off the reservation and against the reservation. Not only do this individual lack faith but they also lack any form of sanity and we as real patriots will banish the false champion and its foolish values into the dark hellish pits of defeat and failure where they belong. Yet after everything I can still find it in my heart to forgive each one of them that has tarnished my home individually.
I can still find the energy to care enough to plea with this foolish individual to repent on its actions and that adds a lot to my ability to not only accept but to also make sure that my home cares enough to get the job done and save this place from what it has been subject to for too long.
Inflamed by greed, incensed by hate, confused by delusion, overcome by them, obsessed by mind, a man chooses for his own affliction, for others' affliction, for the affliction of both and experiences pain and grief.
Ones overrated like qualities and greed has blinded him and has shown him his errors. He has become complacent now and believes in a hype that isn't there. In the end titles and greed won’t matter as he will be hollering out above as he squeals in a realm of nothing. It can’t be cut down in its prime because it has no prime, it is bellow regular and that’s all. Conformist evil with no individual exclusiveness and that’s how this so called champion will find its end. This is how he will be remembered. He has used his champion status as a crutch and a vice, I used mine to fight for rights and freedom no matter the cost and I never caught a break unlike him.
I am a true champion, not this cephalic clone of what someone would want to see. No one believes in him anymore therefore he no longer exists in this world of ours. People will find interest here once again and they will love our product once it’s free from this putrid disease. I am a competitor and my colleagues are competitors. Nothing is my opponent; every inch of it is a disease and disgusts me to my core. It is pure nothing in my eyes now and no respect remains for it no matter what happens or what the result is.
Come the encounter, regardless of the result or how it ends I vow and promise to inflict pain, as much of it as I can until I go down dying and fighting in one. Fighting for my home, for my partners, for my friends and colleagues and for unity and to bring back my home to what it should be. Real change look from beyond my eyes and I wish to inflict it but it isn’t easy. A prevention, cure and vaccine are needed to rid this place of those who tarnish us and who live in the name of nothing and conformity.
It’s been close, I’ve done it before and I will do it again. Left right, up down I will never fall until my work is done and I see the people who mean something are safe and are where they belong, at the top. Everything won’t be ok. Everything won’t be alright. Somehow things manage to go wrong but with the ousting of this particular infestation we can all live better and product our passion into persistence and create something amazing like we were meant to. The wrong people are rewarded and the ones who are the definition of entertainment and dedication are continuously misunderstood and treated badly.
This will no longer be the case as I will save this place. I am a patriot. I am an everlasting memory. I am not an abbreviation – I am a champion no matter what anyone else says. I am a champion with or without a title and I am competent to hold the glory of a title unlike those who we know should not be here. For so long, so many have been ruthless, now its my turn to be ruthless and to turn my anger and hatred on those who deserve it while I save what needs to be saved. I will rescue this place, I will clean and un-tarnish its title.
Scott Wilson's Journal
Page:Who Gives A Fuck|Chapter:Peter Shelley
A man destroyed, his hopes and dreams and elements that became more important than his entire life were dashed and ripped away from him only to send him further past the point of personal hell that he had already passed. Through no fault of his own did he face this failure yet blaming himself would not be an option to this feeble minded sociopathic parasite. Instead he would blame those around him that he envied and loathed. He hated them because of his inferiority he knew he carried and he was right to carry it. His over compensations had gotten him nowhere and his life and the structures he had recently built were crashing down around him to the point where he had almost nothing left. He was a shell of a man before but now the brutal husk of his destroyed persona and life had been long gone. One would almost pity this faded individual – a fading memory of something that once was but now could never form again. A mind and a life destroyed for what?
What was one’s end game? What was the goal at the end of this, at the end of it all? What was the game and what could be accomplished at the end of the day or the end of the competition or even the end of ones days? How could any of this help, seeing a man who had already become a failure and already be mentally and physically destroyed be pushed even further off the brink? One could not take joy in seeing this happen to a man who had lost everything twice? Such an individual must be pitied yet somehow the general thought was wrong. This individual was pitied sure, but he was a despicable man, one filled with hatred and only hate for those he blamed for his own shortcomings and mistakes.
He was the only one to blame for his mistakes and everything he did wrong. The problems in his life were caused by him and him alone yet he felt it necessary to take his problems out on those innocent people around him and dedicate his life to inflicting pain fueled by hatred on those who deserved it the least. This was a man who had been through a lot yes but by no means was this man a respectful individual full of character. He was a shell of a man now only inhabited by evil and consumed by hate. He had made it his mission to annihilate that in which I stood for and every element and value I held sacred so I was given no choice in such a sad and really unfortunate situation. It had become a mission or a duty bestowed upon me. He was a fading memory almost faded out and my job was to finish him off. Was this a task that should have been taken lightly or was it even a task that should be carried out at all?
People would disagree but I believe in my heart of hearts that this was an undertaking that needed to be done and done successfully. Scum and pathetic behavior had run wild and freely for long enough. Evil’s streak was always underlying but now it had gotten to a point where it had contaminated everything and everyone. It was a bad situation, it was a bad problem because the steam and leader of such issues was evil, not pure evil but embodied evil values and only saw pain and hatred through their blinded eyes. A nemesis can only be a nemesis for so long before you out grown them and I out grew every single one of them. This individual would be no different. It wasn't a case of whether or not ending him would be the right thing to do or now but it didn’t really matter much anymore. It didn’t matter whether it was right or wrong because he had rubbed off on me and I wanted to end him. I made it my goal and I was going to end him simply because I had the urge and desire to put him out of his misery and halt his painful, useless and meaningless existence…
I wanted to end it all now.
Yes it was only time that was the final factor in this whole dilemma for said individual now. The sand in the hourglass would continue to run down until the encounter and the final grain would fall judgment would be harshly placed upon this poor soul. A soul that I was given the unfortunate task of helping move on to a better place. He doesn’t belong here anymore and the job has fallen upon me. I would ask and yell to the skies questioning why this was bestowed upon myself and why this was etched in my destiny but that would be a hopeless task in itself. I was given this task through fate and if it were my fate to seal another’s then so be it.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to end it. I wanted to end it now, nothing would give me greater pleasure in these recent times then to end it. I would be saving others the pain, closing the mouths of those who doubted me and using another person to almost selfishly advance my own already superior and great legacy. Did I need anymore-good fortunes? Firstly I thought no I didn’t, I thought I was lucky enough to be in the position I am but those thoughts died quick when they all turned on me because of the simple fact I was better than them. Their sins of envy and greed had sealed their fate but it was unfortunate that in up coming times it was only going to be one poor soul paying the price.
There had been meltdowns, bloodbaths and massacres. I had see tears, broken bodies and broken minds here. They all fell but I always stood tall and my legacy is beyond reach of anyone else here. This one specific individual who I have to annihilate has been a thorn in my side an annoying thorn. No he wasn’t smart, or skilled or respected but he had tarnished me and I had to clean that. I had to clean it with his blood and if that meant breaking his mind, body and spirit in the process then that would just be a bonus. Time was the only thing saving him now. As the time grew closer so do we and eventually there will be no time or space left between us and we will fight. No more battles, a war will be raged and he will be broken and destroyed in a pool of his own blood and a metaphorical pool of his broken dreams, painful memories and elements of his mind that he tried to escape but couldn’t.
Blaming others and taking it out on the innocent were feeble and useless attempts to escape it all but now that I’m here I’m ready to protect them all and I’m ready to finally hold you accountable for your actions, make you answer for what you have done and finally turn you into the fading memory that you were destined to become. I’ve been waiting for this for far too long now and I thought you were too but all I can sense from you is fear. You’re scared and I can feel it and the fear only serves as a disadvantage for you. Don’t worry, soon it will be over and I will get my retribution and everything else that I’m entitled to.
I will turn you into my depiction of what I think you are for the masses to see and they will all have no choice but to believe in me. You’re nothing but a louse. You’re nothing but a psycho. You’re nothing but a coward. You’re nothing but a hypocrite. You’re nothing compared to me and you can never be anywhere near as great as me no matter how hard you try…
… You’re nothing but a fading memory.
-----
The scene opens by fading in on a shot of a cloudy sky, streaked with reds, oranges, and yellows by the light of the setting sun. A flock of young ravens suddenly takes flight, scattering into their air as the flaps of their wings and the harsh calls of their beaks fill the twilit air.
As the flock of ravens move further away, their agitated cries growing more and more distant, the camera pans downward to reveal a dirt road cutting a swathe through a grassy field. Tall greenish strands sway gently in the evening breeze, brushing up against isolated fence posts that run along either side of the road and getting tangled up in the strands of barbed-wire fencing that hang from them. A lonely cry reaches the camera, and it turns to focus on a lone Raven, hopping out of the tall grass onto the dirt road. One wing flaps incessantly, as if trying to make up for its counterpart, which hangs limply at the bird's side, bent at an odd angle. It hops slowly to the middle of the dirt road, and gives a sharp cry when two black combat boots stomp down on either side of it.
As the raven begins hopping away, frantically escaping what it perceives as an assailant, the camera pans upwards to reveal the imposing figure of Scott Wilson. Not looking at the camera, he watches as the defenseless bird does its best to get away from him, frantically trying to escape back into the tall grass lining the road. Presently, the following text fades in, ghostlike, at the bottom of the screen.
Pitiful creatures, birds.
He walks after the raven, bringing his foot down just between the raven and the tall grass, blocking its entry. The bird releases another shrill squawk and changes direction, hopping back across the dirt road for the sanctuary of the grass on the other side.
Even with the gift of flight, miraculous though it is, they are little more than skyborne rats, scavenging what they can and fleeing when something larger than themselves approaches. When there are no threats to their well-being, they are kings... dominants... alphas. The bits and seeds and insects that they consume ought to fear the hubris and candor of these skyborne predators, and rightfully so.
Scott Wilson resumes pursuit of the raven, following it across the road without the slightest bit of haste or urgency in his step.
But when something different comes along... something bigger...
He stomps down another boot, again blocking the raven's passage to safety.
They flee, neither willing nor capable of defending themselves or fighting for what is rightfully theirs. It matters not if the intruding party is a man, a hound, an automobile, or even a strong gust of wind... the weakness and ineptitude of these pitiable creatures are all-too-easily brought to light.
As the raven again tries to make its escape, Wilson stoops down and grabs it in his large, gloved hands. He stands back up and turns to fully face the camera, keeping the now-hysterical bird secure even as it pecks and bites and scratches at his sleeved arms and gloved hands.
A truly pathetic and broken-down creatures, even by the standards of others in its flock.
At this point, Scott Wilson lifts his brown eyes, smouldering behind his eldritch mask, to the camera.
In this regard, one Atlas Adams is not so different from his namesake. This week, he finds himself knelt before the throne of judgment, at the mercy of Scott Wilson. Atlas Adams, you are indeed like this... this thing in my hands. When faced with opposition smaller than you, that you can feed upon without fear of it fighting back or getting away, you are a large man indeed. But when something larger... or someone larger... shows his face and challenges you...
Suddenly, inexplicably, the raven's struggles cease. It goes silent and still in the Scott's cupped hands, eerily mirroring the deaths and disintegrations of all other living things the Scott has laid his hands on.
You fail, completely and utterly.
Scott Wilson tilts his head back downwards, gazing at the still creature in his hands.
This is such an instance. Atlas Adams, you show cavalier hubris and bold arrogance in the face of your impending judgment. Part of me is tempted to admire this... but prior experience argues against it. Many have laughed in the face of Scott Wilson, spat in the face of judgment... and they paid dearly for it, just as you shall pay for it.
Scott Wilson suddenly squeezes his hands together, completely enveloping the raven within them. A moment later, he opens them... and out flies a raven, full of life and with two fully functional wings. Scott watches as it rises higher and higher in the sky, finally free of its earthly clutches, and rushes to rejoin the rest of its flock. He then turns back to the camera, his eyes seeming to blaze even brighter behind his visage of plastic.
That will not happen to you, Atlas Adams. In our match at One Night in Hell, there will be no no-showing, no healing, no escape... and no mercy. You WILL face me, you WILL face judgment, and just like all others to have come before you, the eyes of -I- shall find you wanting.
With that, Scott Wilson turns and begins walking away from the camera, down the dirt road and into the sunset. The camera pans upwards, capturing the miraculously healed raven as it continues to ascend higher and higher into the sky. The scene slowly fades to black, after which the following words fade into existence on-screen.
Soon.
-----
Scott Wilson's Journal
Page:Who Gives A Fuck|Chapter:Level-One
Delusion is something that the weak don't experience. Delusion is something that the strong experience. These individuals exhausted by delusion withstand so much pain and anguish in their lives that they use delusion or imagination to escape before they break. The weak have everything handed to them yet act like they go through so much. They don't have to be delusional because they have minimal problems. Because they don't have to face challenges or pain makes them weak. Delusion isn't a bad thing nor is it a good thing. There is something effortlessly melodic about the imagination and how it can take your own mind off of the toughest of times.
People will act arrogant and better but blame the hate they are given on jealous and label everyone a hater when infact they are a morally destroyed, arrogant and DELUSIONAL nothing. Everyone ends at some point and when you're at the end of the road you must have gotten your life right. These people will have to face the people they are and were before they face judgement. Liars, fools, troublemakers and just plain awful people will face judgement one day and their status nor their possessions will be able to save them. We've all felt pain, we've all sweat, bled, feared, hurt and healed. We've all faced the sweet taste of victory and some of us have felt the cold touch of defeat, but defeat is what makes us human, it's what makes us competitors and warriors in life.
Defeat, hate, success, love, all you get is a turn and you only get one so make sure it's not all tared with the same brush. Make every experience different. Whether it's love, hate, success or failure - just embrace it. Be with those that you know have your best interests at heart and those that you know have your back through thick and thin. A real friend is someone that will stand and fight with you and in any case, will stand united for one cold night against the force of something against you which you'll attempt to triumph over and bury in the sands of defeat and failure while success and glory lives on well into our own individual legacies.
I know that it's believed that anyone can win and I know that I can succeed and yes in my personal life I am delusional but I have a damn good reason to be. I've delved into imagining I'm the greatest and the emotive expressions from the mind just happened to come true. We've all faced struggles and pain but people like to over glamourize their experiences. All life demands struggle. Those who have everything given to them become lazy, selfish, and insensitive to the real values of life. The very striving and hard work that we so constantly try to avoid is the major building block in the person we are.
Our duty is to encourage everyone in his struggle to live up to his own highest idea, and strive at the same time to make the ideal as near as possible to the truth and when I say truth I don't mean some kind of mystery... Everyone these days think they are on the top of a game that in reality, they have no idea how to play. The fact is, everyone can't be number one, only number one can be number one. Everyone can't never face defeat, only one can live without defeat.
I'm fighting this fight purely for freedom. So many of us have hit the ground but there are a few of us left that still care and sometimes I can't believe that we're still around. We've all felt pain, we've all sweat, bled, feared, hurt and healed. We've all faced the sweet taste of victory and some of us have felt the cold touch of defeat, but defeat is what makes us human, it's what makes us competitors and warriors in life. Defeat, hate, success, love, all you get is a turn and you only get one so make sure it's not all tared with the same brush.
Make ever experience different. Whether it is love, hate, success or failure - just embrace it. Be with those that you know have your best interests at heart and those that you know have your back through thick and thin. A real friend is someone that will stand and fight with you and in my case I will stand united even though I am alone for one cold night against the force that threatens our way of life, which we will attempt to triumph over and bury in the black shadow grains of defeat and failure while our success and lives on well into our own individual legacies. We all want to believe in a beautiful lie. We like to believe in our abilities but without the work and the faith they will never come to life.
One thing my enemy doesn’t have is faith, it is completely faithless and are being lead into the gates of darkness and defeat by a false profit who may have finally gone off the reservation and against the reservation. Not only do this individual lack faith but they also lack any form of sanity and we as real patriots will banish the false champion and its foolish values into the dark hellish pits of defeat and failure where they belong. Yet after everything I can still find it in my heart to forgive each one of them that has tarnished my home individually.
I can still find the energy to care enough to plea with this foolish individual to repent on its actions and that adds a lot to my ability to not only accept but to also make sure that my home cares enough to get the job done and save this place from what it has been subject to for too long.
Inflamed by greed, incensed by hate, confused by delusion, overcome by them, obsessed by mind, a man chooses for his own affliction, for others' affliction, for the affliction of both and experiences pain and grief.
Ones overrated like qualities and greed has blinded him and has shown him his errors. He has become complacent now and believes in a hype that isn't there. In the end titles and greed won’t matter as he will be hollering out above as he squeals in a realm of nothing. It can’t be cut down in its prime because it has no prime, it is bellow regular and that’s all. Conformist evil with no individual exclusiveness and that’s how this so called champion will find its end. This is how he will be remembered. He has used his champion status as a crutch and a vice, I used mine to fight for rights and freedom no matter the cost and I never caught a break unlike him.
I am a true champion, not this cephalic clone of what someone would want to see. No one believes in him anymore therefore he no longer exists in this world of ours. People will find interest here once again and they will love our product once it’s free from this putrid disease. I am a competitor and my colleagues are competitors. Nothing is my opponent; every inch of it is a disease and disgusts me to my core. It is pure nothing in my eyes now and no respect remains for it no matter what happens or what the result is.
Come the encounter, regardless of the result or how it ends I vow and promise to inflict pain, as much of it as I can until I go down dying and fighting in one. Fighting for my home, for my partners, for my friends and colleagues and for unity and to bring back my home to what it should be. Real change look from beyond my eyes and I wish to inflict it but it isn’t easy. A prevention, cure and vaccine are needed to rid this place of those who tarnish us and who live in the name of nothing and conformity.
It’s been close, I’ve done it before and I will do it again. Left right, up down I will never fall until my work is done and I see the people who mean something are safe and are where they belong, at the top. Everything won’t be ok. Everything won’t be alright. Somehow things manage to go wrong but with the ousting of this particular infestation we can all live better and product our passion into persistence and create something amazing like we were meant to. The wrong people are rewarded and the ones who are the definition of entertainment and dedication are continuously misunderstood and treated badly.
This will no longer be the case as I will save this place. I am a patriot. I am an everlasting memory. I am not an abbreviation – I am a champion no matter what anyone else says. I am a champion with or without a title and I am competent to hold the glory of a title unlike those who we know should not be here. For so long, so many have been ruthless, now its my turn to be ruthless and to turn my anger and hatred on those who deserve it while I save what needs to be saved. I will rescue this place, I will clean and un-tarnish its title.
