Here is a list of thoughts that surround my time in professional wrestling. 

I very much loved professional wrestling. 

I loved it because it was a great way to express my frustrations. I did this via story, taking elements of reality and splicing them into some fantasy; along with leaving ample space for my opponents to fulfil their own wants. 

Their desire never reached beyond acquiring fame. That, I found ridiculous, there was no fame to be had as everything existed in an echo chamber. What was good wasn’t measured by goodness, it was dictated by influence. 

This is why it was dead dream. It never began. 

I barely learned anything from the experience. The teachers in the field were corrupted by their own failures, instead of learning from them, they averted. It is impossible to teach if you’ve never learned. The nuggets of usable theory that was bestowed upon me were from the teachers of the teachers, and the information was redundant; although fundamentally and philosophically superior to the current work style.

I began a student, and left annoyed and unfulfilled. I am not a politician, and I’m not painting myself as a victim to try and sway a bunch of people who are not interested in anything bar the sound of their own rhetoric. They have no idea what they are talking about, they have had their way for some time now and the result is catastrophic.