This is not an actual journal for any of the people listed here. Nor will it ever be. This is a journal for my muses.

The people you'll see here include Amazing Red, James Storm, Haylee Jacobs [OC], Frankie Kazarian, Trent Barreta, Tina Corino [OC], Sierra Hickenbottom [OC], Rydell Borden [OC], Scotty Rechsteiner [OC], Alex Shelley, Evan Bourne, Danielle Brooks [OC], Ariana Hart [OC], Regina Ellington [OC], Jayden Black [OC], Crimson, Edge, Cody Rhodes, and probably others I can't remember.

January 17, 2012

Book-thing,

It's ridiculous they're forcing us to use these after the fucking up Hardy did with his fucking life. It's not my fault the bastard doesn't know how to say no. It's not, alright. I don't give a flying shit about him, or his problems. He could fall off the face of the earth, he could seize to exist at this point and I wouldn't shed a tear like his horrible, annoying, and loud fans.

That was probably harsh, but I don't give a damn. I miss my fucking boyfriend right now. I've been trapped in this god damn fucking bed for the past three weeks now, and I HATE it. All I was doing was chasing some kids up the stairs when one decides to suddenly go back down and somehow knocked into me, and I fell down the stairs. Lucky me, I got a concussion from it. The amount of times Kenny has put me through mirrors and walls, and I get a concussion from falling down the stairs.

Anyways, my dad, Sting, isn't fond of me being with Ken Anderson, my boyfriend. Ever since we got together, he's been hell bent on keeping us apart. I know he doesn't like being gay or anything, but I would think he'd be happy with me having someone that I love and someone that makes me happy. I guess not. But anyways, dad put me to bed once I was out of the hospital, and here I've been stuck for three weeks without any sight of Ken. It's lonely and I miss Ken a lot. My hand can't keep me company for much longer.

I actually think dad has given in to me complaining. How do I know? I can hear him on the phone talking to a Ken. It has to be my Ken; I know it is because I can hear him telling him to come here. I want my boy and it looks like I'm going to get him.

Thank fucking god.

Rydell Borden