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Christian_Andrews · (03-20-2018)

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."
- Dr. Wayne Dyer

Standing alone in a crowded room, eyes darting back and forth. Time was a remedy to the young but a curse to the old, just like perspective. Although some would argue, perspective is the very breath that gives life, movement. Perspective, is something that isn't developed normally until the latter years. Perspective... is all he had.

Sweat beads form like a high school marching band, a lot of purpose and technique creating the body of the ocean, with a hint of confusion and chaos decorating the waves. Did he make the right decision? Should he have returned? Questions beckoned like his ex when she found out he was broke, leaving him similarly in the dark.

There was more to this then meets the eye, more life and more purpose hiding in that deep, dark dungeon of old. This is the very thing his life depended on, the very thing that caused him to roll out of bed in the morning, and roll back into bed at night, the recital of life fueled by the raging desire inside to hold someones head steady, bashing it again and again against the ground. To see the life drain slowly like the happy neighbor caught in the affair, depression seeping in.

He had to return. This is what drives him. The march of the thousands of vocal chords chanting his name, the play of the smiles that appear on otherwise hurt and distraught faces of the fans who finally have the escape from their own, petty lives. The dance back and forth with worthwhile foes, or the titanic level crash of those who unfortunately couldn't face the music.

He stared greatness in the face once upon a time, and it's been too long since he last felt the brush of her skin and the smell of her perfume. The wave of greatness permeates the very cracks in the walls of the house he calls his body. He had to return. It was everything.

He stands an open book, a mystery that contains such depth that a compass would get lost guiding it's way through the endless twists and turns of the drama. Yet all he can see, all he can picture are the two names resonating through the very core of his being. K2 and Richard Dweck. It all begins there.

New beginnings can be the most beautiful, amazing set ups for a bright and rewarding future... or they can in turn be fatal and destructive to a pain filled fate. The question beckons, future or fate? Which one awaits Saturday Night Savage? The contestants fighting in the fatal triple threat? Do those two have any idea?

This is much more than a match for him. The depth of it's cry calls out much deeper than for a win/loss record. It's the very searching of the soul that produces the fight of heroes, the very dawning of the sunrise that produces light for crops to grow and eyes to see... it's the beginning. The beginning, of the end.

Perspective lets you see past the fore front walls of narrow mindedness, and allows you to see past the blinders of simple titles, belts, records... but alas, perspective shows you the longing of your heart, the very desire of your soul matches that very thing that is of legends. A win/loss record won't follow you to the grave, but will be buried with you to tarnish and decompose faster than the very flesh on your bones.

He understands that. Immortality lives in legacies. She lives in strength that encompasses greatness, and perplexes the minds of those who have been blinded by what they feel, think, see. The 5 senses are just the 5 distractions to stop you from experiencing what we call Faith, Hope... Love. They are 5 distractions that distract you from the very purpose of life, the longing of things to come. 5 Distractions of Destiny.

Don't be distracted, and don't be fooled. He won't be. Don't come into Saturday Night Savage and assume the role of a normal XWF Superstar, doing an every day match, holding an every day candle to an every day vision, or lack there of. Know what he knows, see what he sees. Know that when you step into the ring with this man, you're not matching candles on candles, but rather what he brings would be better classified as an inferno. Blazing across the ring, past the minds of the simple minded, beyond the kids of the past and present and into the hearts of the future.

His fire won't be put out by single handed activities, or by the thoughts and prayers of the doubting. It won't be tickled by the jokes and laughs of those who are determined to be forgotten. It'll be etched, drawn brightly and intensely, through flame, blood, tears, sweat....

It'll be destined to be great. And like every great inferno that has ever blazed across the earth, it was destroy every lesser thing in it's way. Do not come expecting a normal, average, every day match. Or it may very well be your last. He's coming with the anticipation of a thousand trained warriors, and with the hunger of loss, tragedy, and heartache. Nothing will stop him, nothing will silent him, and if you're caught in the way and you bring a candle... prepare to be burned.

Welcome to the inferno. Welcome to the fire that is Christian Andrews. Welcome... to Perspective.

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