The Death of My Resolve
By: Ricky Rodriguez
Writing Prompt: Yes
Date: 3rd Nov 2021
I don’t tell you what to say.
I don’t tell you what to do.
So just let me be myself
That’s all I ask of you.
I’m young and I love to be young.
I’m free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want,
To say and do whatever I please.
You don’t own me.
Ricky Rodriguez: ‘There’s a world. A world where bein a good person is a bad idea. A world where bein a good person gets you mocked and ridiculed and laughed at and talked down to. Not just by people who are against you but the very people who are suppose to be beside you, the people who are suppose to bring you up, not bring you down. This world is one of nightmares and behavior you couldn’t even dream of.
It’s a world that grabs you by the heart and squeezes it with every bit of strength imaginable until you just can’t take it anymore. Where the sins are so fukin far more acceptable than morals are. I know what you’re thinkin: Surely, such a world exists in some kinda horrific fairy tale. Some horror movie that’s designed to chill you to the bone. But it’s not..it’s nothin like that.’
Seated upon the floor of his Fight NYC apartment, Ricky Rodriguez had his knees raised and his arms wrapped against them. He squeezed tightly, keeping them firmly pressed against his chest. The usual light in his eyes and smile on his face was noticeably absent. It looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping as of late and his all around aura just seemed like that of a broken man.
Ricky Rodriguez: ‘It’s the world we live in today. It’s the world of wrestling, as a whole. It’s a world I’ve fought against from day one. It’s a world that’s kicked my ass time and time again but still, I keep gettin back up. I keep draggin myself back up and continuin the fight. It’s what I have to do, right? If I stop fightin, I become the same as anyone else. Vindictive. Cruel. Manipulative.
I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that person. Every day, I fight to keep my identity. I fight to continue bein a good person when everyone..everyone around me laughs at me, mocks me, kicks me while I’m down. Do you know how hard it is to get through somethin like that? Of course not, you’re all exactly the fuckin same. You may look different. Talk differently. But at the core, there’s no difference whatsoever.’
As he spoke, his lower lip quivered ever so slightly. Bringing his head back, he let the back of it rest against the wall behind him.
Ricky Rodriguez: ‘I thought I could do this my way. I thought I could continue bein the good person I’ve always been. But more and more, I’ve started questionin it. Yes, it’s the right thing to do but is it the smart thing to do? I’ve done nothin but get chewed up and spit out by the worst of the worst. It hurts, knowin that bein a good person is a punishable offense.
But still, every single time, I pull myself back only to get kicked back down. Am I doin what’s best for me? Am I doin what’s best for my career? Do the two even line up with one another? Even now, the words of encouragement are used to grind my face into the dirt. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even want to come to work anymore. I don’t want to see the same people who I have such fun and happy memories with. Can it honestly get any worse than this?’
Keeping his head where it was at, Ricky closed his eyes as tightly as possible and let out a shaky sigh. Finding himself on the verge of tears, Ricky chewed upon the inside of his cheek, trying to quell the thoughts that were running rampant in his mind.
Ricky Rodriguez: ‘What do I wanna hear? I wanna hear that it’s worth it. I wanna hear that I’m not a fuckin idiot for wantin to fight to uphold my morals. I wanna hear that I’m not stupid for not listenin to everyone when they tell me what I should be doin. I wanna hear that all of the blood, sweat, and tears I shed to keep bein who I am is worth it. I just want someone to tell me that my fight is makin a difference.
Cause I’m tired of fightin these feelins. I’m tired of the constant internal struggle. I can’t keep goin. I’m just so fuckin tired. I don’t have anythin left. I don’t have any struggle left in me. I can’t keep goin. I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. All I know is that I just wanna sleep. I wanna be happy again. I can’t keep goin. I’m done fightin for this. I have no resolve left. Nothin to keep me on the track I wanna be on. I can’t keep goin.’
His head falling forward, Ricky allowed it to rest on the tops of his forearms as they continued to be used to hug his knees against his chest. Another shaky breath slipped free from the downtrodden Ricky Rodriguez as the scene faded away.