I woke up suddenly with a cold sweat dripping down my short pale back running off every bone down my spine. My eyelids shoot open as a begin to scan the room. My eyes were directed towards my nineteen sixties Pepsi lamp shade which was glowing blue making my bedroom flood. I feel like I am floating under water holding my breathe, finding it hard not to breathe, taking gasps from the bubbles now and again.

Kind of like life. You are constantly under water holding you breathe so as not to drown in you mistakes and be eaten alive by the other, living, people under the water. I lost my job and when doing so I took a deep breathe inhaling the dirty salt water basically killing me. As I lay at the bottom of the ocean also known as unemployment I felt the air bubbles which keep me alive, my family and wrestling ability, escape and rush to the surface.

I left Sin Wrestling hoping that I could overcome my biggest fall, from world champion to the washed up wrestler who lay motionless on the floor with the wooden rungs laid over and around my body. It hasn’t worked. After re-applying to the XWF, my home in wrestling for my first 5 years of my career, I was shot down and with rumours of a presidential change in IW there was no better place the Sin Wrestling to return. I might not become what I once was but I have come to prove to everyone that I am not some joke.

The man who mocked my whole persona, who stuck his middle finger up at me every step of my last run here in SW, Mike Phantasy, is nothing but trouble, not only for me but himself. His cocky attitude has landed with him and his partner laid out in the middle of the ring with the Tag Team Championships ripped from around their waists. His cocky attitude has sent him plummeting down slowly threw SW and will do the exact same thing in his new toy federation, SSW.

I returned with one goal which has lingered in the back of my head for the month and a half which I lay dormant from wrestling and that thought hacked it’s way through my skin, flesh and bone and has drilled its way into my brain, I want to be a champion. I want to prove to SW that Regan Chambers is still a man on top of himself, who won’t let himself fall back into the hole which he led himself into in previous years. I want to prove everyone wrong.

The man I thought was dead has once again clawed his way out of the early grave he dug himself and has brought his rotting carcass back to Sin Wrestling. Tony Millenia is back from the dead and has decided to mess everything up yet again. He came back with an almighty goal filling up a water balloon about to pop and it did just that, it popped. Tony Millenia choked again on his own vomit people like to call his ego.

There is nothing special or amazing about Tony Millenia apart from his incredible ability to talk his way into difficult situations and to dig himself even deeper over his head. The man who beat me for my World Championship came back with a mission statement, which so far has gone into his favour, has returned which shocked me into motion and I dragged myself over here and begged with my tail between my legs.

I had to work my way back into SW by being nice to Corey Page when Tony Millenia, I bet, got it easy and just walked in through SW HQ’s doors and demanded his job back and got it without a fight. I am the person who deserves it more but like always the worse man always win the battles. I deserve to be here more than he does.

Then, Michael Vaz, a rookie, a newcomer to the SW but with a family history of wrestling. You uncle is the great Da Man, the man I envied every time I was rejected from the NEW, a man I looked up to. Da Man was the kind of man who worked his way up, impressing people with his sheer enthusiasm let alone amazing agility and ability.

Although this great man is indeed you uncle, cousin or whatever he will see that when it comes down to it and you have to work at you best ability that your opponent are going to lose no matter what. I am sorry to say that Michael Vaz, you are indeed getting the beating of your lifetime. I need to prove myself and you are a locked door in the corridor of me doing so, I will just have to axe you down.

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I turn back over from staring at the blue lampshade because my eyes have been taken over by a strange green smudge and I am finding it extremely hard to think. I am tired, it being no later than 4 in the morning and disorientated, damn celebration meals. Within seconds my eyelids close slowly and I drift calmly to sleep.

Next thing I know I awake in my bed at 10 o’clock in the morning and I am feeling the most refreshed a man can feel. I get up to sitting up position no problem for probably the first time in years and soon thereafter I am standing awaiting the message for breakfast. I pull on a pair of black and blue Fenchurch shorts which were left laying over my slippers in the corner of the room then sliding my feet into those slippers.

I rub my eyes softly as Aimee shouts up the stairs, “I am sorry about this but your breakfast is on the table but I have to pop off to work quickly.” I soon come running out of my room out onto the landing and then down the stairs. She looks up looking rather distraught as I stroke her soft, Caucasian skin.

“What’s the matter darling?” I say as she pouts seductively, or seductive to me anyway. “I didn’t think you worked Saturdays.” I continue, the tone of my voice become higher, sounding quite surprised as if it’s hit me like a brick. She shrugs and flops her arms over my shoulders before kissing me passionately on the lips. Grabbing her briefcase she fleas out of the door almost looking anxious.

I shake my head nervously afraid of being left in the dark, alone and without my family. Why am I so paranoid? She is only going to work, or is she? She went dressed in tight fitting ¾ length jeans, pink t-shit with a black zip up jacket and her briefcase. I don’t think she is going to work, is that the type of thing an accountant wears to work? I become even more nervous.

“What the fuck have I done?” I shout at the top of my voice standing in the middle of my living room next to an open window which draws the attention from the strange boy who lives next door. In my redundancy I have been kicked out and expelled from the family when I was working my hardest to get a job I continue to shout nonsense, “I love them and I don’t want to lose them.”

I am getting way too paranoid, it might be one of those charity ‘wear what you want’ events. I think I seriously have something wrong with me, my head is always messed, I am either depressed or way too happy and it’s stupid. I am one of the most emotional men you will ever find and I don’t like it. Did you know 1 in 4 people are diagnosed with some type of mental illness during the course of their life.

Schiz·o·phre·ni·a
n.

A situation or condition that results from the coexistence of disparate or antagonistic qualities, identities, or activities: the national schizophrenia that results from carrying out an unpopular war.

Emotional disturbances, I have emotional disturbances. I am too scared of life messing with my head that is does just that mess with my head. I am so afraid that everything and everyone is against me that I end up panicking which is also a sign of depression or manic depression. I don’t want to be found mentally unstable I am not ready for it, I won’t be able to handle it.

The paranoia has sunk into my brain yet again, squeezing it’s way through all of the nerves making me jumpy and scared. I have become a permanent emotional wreck, I have become a mirror image of my father except I am not going to stoop to his insane level as to beat my child and wife and drink from dawn until dusk. I won’t be my father but I can see myself slowly slipping in the hole that I found my father in, buried in the mud we call whisky.

I feel dizzy as the thoughts starts to spin around my brain, I chuckle at first, not scared of what is happening but enjoying the freedom but when it hit’s me and I can’t stop thinking this way I become increasingly scared. My head is still spinning, my eyes rolling around in my head. I fall to the floor head first catching my leg on the coffee table as I fall.

Lying in the middle of my living a pool of blood soaking through my t-shirt and onto the newly laid carpet I can’t help but giggle. My life could be over any minute now and no-one will know. It then hits me that my family need me and I need them too so I start shouting, I shout until my throat is sore.

I hear movement coming from the front door, a key chain rattling on the opposite side as I begin to shout through my raucous and sore throat trying with every breathe to shout that much louder. Aimee is one the other side I notice when she shouts in from the outside in a nervous shaky voice, “Regan wait. I’ll be there now please hang on.”

“I thought you had work.” I say looking up at her in the face while smiling.