It’s the same thing, once again.

I make a promise. Critics mark it as “inane bravado” and move on. Then I prove the critics wrong, and they call it a fluke, so I lash out at them in my own little way, namely proving them wrong over and over again, just so with each passing victory they hate me just a little more. Week after week, the same thing arises, it has become monotonous now. They dismiss me, I tell them to blow me, I win, and they still aren’t convinced.

Lather.

I become the second ever two-time Platinum Champion, and to them, it was a fluke. I become the first-ever two-time Tag-Team Champion, and to them, it was a fluke. I might also mention that I am the one that succeeded my first tag-title reign, and was the first person in SW history to do that, but that was probably a fluke, too, right? I participated in the first-ever Barbed-Wire Cage Match in Sin Wrestling history, and I won. How? Survey says, “Dumb luck.” I enter the Sin Wrestling Hall of Fame after breaking my back at every single show, and I’m undeserving of the honor? And now, upon my return to the ring, I become the first-ever Champion of Purity, by what? You guessed it; a goddamn fluke.

Rinse.

I have become the doorway to acceptance in Critic-Land. Hate Mike Phantasy because you’re not him, or because he does things you can’t, or because he isn’t afraid of being rejected by people, or just because he’s that much better than you or anyone else ever will be? You’re in! I have no doubt that’s what they do. As soon as I turned, they turned on me. As soon as I exposed their “heroes” for what they are, I became the most hated person to be in Sin Wrestling. I became a no-talent loser that put on the match of the night, night after night. I began to get the death-threats from the 12-year-olds and the housewives for whom my opponents were deities.

Repeat.

At one point, I was marked by those same critics as the “Future of Sin Wrestling.” I was praised as the greatest potential acquisition that Sin Wrestling could have made, I was endorsed by Sin Wrestling, and by the future World Champion, Regan Chambers; who, disgustingly, became one of my closest and “most trusted” friends. Then I decided to stop acting for the fans and the critics who loved me so much. I decided to tell those morons what I actually thought, I decided to expose the biggest one of these morons for what he was; an untalented, unworthy, grotesque ogre.

And repeat.

I began to make a bigger impact than I ever hoped to make as a “good guy.” I couldn’t care less about the “fans” and they hated me for it. I achieved the most success possible in the course of 4 months. I elevated myself to main event status, I established myself as a Sin Wrestling cornerstone just a mere 4 months after my inception into the wrestling world as a rookie. My career raised the bar for any rookie looking to make an immediate impression, and yet it was apparently all a fluke, apparently my victories should all be attributed to my opponents being “off” on that given night.

Round.

I christened myself Sin Wrestling’s King, they said I was undeserving. I christened myself as Sin Wrestling’s Legacy, they said I was delusional. I christened myself as the main event, and they just laughed at me… no, not laughed; they howled. Like hyenas they picked every one of my accomplishments apart and then giggled at their damage, while I sat in my little corner of the wrestling world and took it. Like rabid dogs, they were there, staring into my face and snarling at every turn, ready to rip my eyes out of my skull. They were there at every turn, ripping away at my legacy, denting my proverbial suit of armor.

And round.

And as much as I said that I didn’t care, and as much as I told them to blow me, and as much as I proved them wrong, they persisted. They kept gnawing and gnawing away at me, away at my record, away at my life. They attacked me, and I did nothing about it, I was passive. I saved my anger up for the ring. Yet they got to me, they planted that seed of doubt that has ruined so many other people. To some extent, they broke me; but at the same time, they liberated me.

And round again.

They molded me into something impregnable, something bordering on complete and total apathy, something that has no care, no remorse for its actions. They molded me into what I envisioned myself to be. They molded me into a god among men; they have immortalized me. They molded me into a machine; they have given me no mercy for so long that I have forgotten what compassion is. They molded me into a King; an “egomaniacal,” “insane,” “power-hungry” idol. They have shaped the new face of professional wrestling; the new, cold, uncaring face of Sin Wrestling.

The cycle comes around once more.

But, unlike what you might think, and no matter what the critics say; I will not say that I am a new Mike Phantasy. I refuse to attempt to better myself for your acceptance anymore. I refuse to rely on cute little promises that I “fail to live up to,” and then be haunted by them for years to come. I refuse to make another attempt at a fresh start, because I don’t need it.

I never needed it.

The era does not begin anew.

All hail.