Post by Storm on Feb 18, 2015 16:01:41 GMT -5
Surging Storm
The Contrasts
St Louis, Missouri
Analysis of James Peterson
"It's been a while Mark, how have you been?"
James Peterson. Multimillionaire therapist, running four businesses around the globe, and also a former professional wrestler - and you've got to remember, the man is only twenty eight years old. He spoke with a very evident English accent - his presence comforting as he smiled at his patient. It had been six months since their last appointment. With Peterson struggling to make arrangements with his businesses and wrestling career beginning to blossom, Storm was left stranded, isolated and alone with his thoughts. With no other real therapist he could turn to, Storm turned to himself - keeping his emotions bottled up. Peterson however did arrange for Storm to meet up with a list of therapist that he thought could help Storm with his situation, which Storm did comply to and visited them all - to no prevail.
"I'm good, James. I'm great. Marvelous."
Storm replied, a smile embedded on his face as he sat uncomfortably, his body continuing to change position as he tried to adjust to the armchair. Peterson nodded approvingly, jotting something down on his clipboard quickly before turning his attention back on Storm.
"I'm told you're back in the ring now? Extreme Wrestling Corporation?! What a gig, I must say. Really happy and glad for you mate. You're on the road to recovery it seems."
"Yeah. It seems that way."
Storm snapped back quickly, forcing Peterson to once again jot down some notes on his clipboard, whilst Storm simply glared at his doctor. A smile still embedded on his face, quickly looking at the clock to see how much time of the session he has left.
"So... as I said, it's been a while since our last session, so tell me.. what's been going on?"
Silence exasperated the room once James finished his sentence. A lot had gone on in the absence of Peterson. The last six months of Mark Storm's life hadn't been easy but then again, has been very rewarding. The self proclaimed "Reckoning of Professional Wrestling" made his return to the ring, on his debut in EWC claiming a win. As well as this, Storm had been getting in contact with his mother once again, the two meeting up on the odd occasion to "catch up". Despite not having a love interest or a "real friend" in his life over the last six months, Storm has had someone in his corner - supporting him and helping him on his road to recover. A man who calls himself "Rick The Ruler." After a few minutes, Storm raised his head and finally replied to Peterson's question.
"Oh - nothing much, really."
"Nothing much? You mean to tell me that "nothing much" has happened over the last six months?"
"Yeah... well, there's not much to tell you, James. I'm back in the business getting paid.. live in a house by myself in St Louis, Missouri - beginning to talk to my mother now and again... there's not much to it."
Peterson nodded his head in approval, before writing some more nonsense down on his clipboard whilst Storm looked around the room, nervously. Peterson's office was pretty luxurious, leather couches, a bar on one side of the room and on the other a flat screen TV with a projector. With various art pieces on the wall, as well as various books written by Peterson stacked on a bookshelf behind him. Peterson stopped writing and raised his head, beginning to speak.
"You're a lot quieter, Mark. I feel like you're hiding something from me. Something that you want to tell me but your sub-conscious doesn't want you to. I remember Mark.. a year ago. You were a completely different man. You were confident, extrovert, and loved having a good time with your friends. From my notes here.. you don't seem to have any friends? The last contact you made with someone was Joey Edwards? A former tag partner of yours I see. But he lives over in London so you rarely ever see him... except from Edwards.. there's Madison Mitchell.. - "
"How do you know that?"
"There is something called the Internet Mark, besides, I've seen what you've had to say about her on twitter.. wanna talk about that?"
"Not really."
Once again another brief silence exasperated the room, leaving the tension in the room high as the two glared at each other. Storm becoming more comfortable as he sank into his chair, clasping his hands together as he waited for Peterson to counter.
"I also hear.. from the therapists I assigned for you to see.. that you've created this alter ego of yourself.. a figment of your imagination, it appears. A brand new friend in your "Stormtropolis" universe... Rick The Ruler..."
The two once again shared a quick glance. Storm licking his dry lips as he contemplated how to reply to that, looking around the room quickly again before regaining concentration.
"What's it to you?"
"I'm your therapist Mark, I'm here to help you get rid of these figments."
"Well what if I don't want you to? What you gonna do then, James? Six months. Six months James. That's a long time. You've been away for six months and what do you expect? You expect me to open up to you again? Like the good old days? Bullshit. You're bullshit. You're full of shit. You left me in the dark, stranded, alone... you left me, and I had no one!"
"Is that how you felt? You felt alone and so you created this character to comfort you?"
"You don't get it do you?!"
Storm laughed at himself, obviously amused as he wiped the tears away from his eyes - laughing that hard that he began to tear up a little.
"You were the only guy who I felt could help me. I trusted you. I thought that I was only going to get through this with you... but that's bullshit. You wanna know how I feel? I honestly feel like the king of the fucking world man. I'm the king of the world. I feel both happy and sad at the same time. But you wanna know who's been keeping my sanity? It wasn't some bullshit therapist in an office.. it was an imaginary German! Can you believe that? The only reason I haven't fallen off the tracks and reverted back to alcohol and drugs, is because of an imaginary German! Who seems to be the only guy who believes in me.. you know what fuck this man.. this is bullshit."
Storm rose from his seat, gasping as he turned away from Peterson and exited the room. Peterson sat startled from Storms comment, taking off his glasses before looking once again at his notes - beginning to read them to himself.
"So... to summarize... Mark Storm.. a year ago Mark was full with confident.. a different man; a lot of friends, and known in the indy scene.. death of his father... triggered hallucinations.. triggered mild schizophrenia.. became dark however wanted help.. And now - created a figment of himself.. seems to only listen to him.. not many friends.. lives alone - indicating he is on his own most of the time.. only indicates that he spends a lot of time with Rick ... Eh, from my understanding - had a brief crush on Madison Mitchell... is hiding something... doesn't want to reveal. Jesus. I need to get back in his good books."
"It's been a while Mark, how have you been?"
James Peterson. Multimillionaire therapist, running four businesses around the globe, and also a former professional wrestler - and you've got to remember, the man is only twenty eight years old. He spoke with a very evident English accent - his presence comforting as he smiled at his patient. It had been six months since their last appointment. With Peterson struggling to make arrangements with his businesses and wrestling career beginning to blossom, Storm was left stranded, isolated and alone with his thoughts. With no other real therapist he could turn to, Storm turned to himself - keeping his emotions bottled up. Peterson however did arrange for Storm to meet up with a list of therapist that he thought could help Storm with his situation, which Storm did comply to and visited them all - to no prevail.
"I'm good, James. I'm great. Marvelous."
Storm replied, a smile embedded on his face as he sat uncomfortably, his body continuing to change position as he tried to adjust to the armchair. Peterson nodded approvingly, jotting something down on his clipboard quickly before turning his attention back on Storm.
"I'm told you're back in the ring now? Extreme Wrestling Corporation?! What a gig, I must say. Really happy and glad for you mate. You're on the road to recovery it seems."
"Yeah. It seems that way."
Storm snapped back quickly, forcing Peterson to once again jot down some notes on his clipboard, whilst Storm simply glared at his doctor. A smile still embedded on his face, quickly looking at the clock to see how much time of the session he has left.
"So... as I said, it's been a while since our last session, so tell me.. what's been going on?"
Silence exasperated the room once James finished his sentence. A lot had gone on in the absence of Peterson. The last six months of Mark Storm's life hadn't been easy but then again, has been very rewarding. The self proclaimed "Reckoning of Professional Wrestling" made his return to the ring, on his debut in EWC claiming a win. As well as this, Storm had been getting in contact with his mother once again, the two meeting up on the odd occasion to "catch up". Despite not having a love interest or a "real friend" in his life over the last six months, Storm has had someone in his corner - supporting him and helping him on his road to recover. A man who calls himself "Rick The Ruler." After a few minutes, Storm raised his head and finally replied to Peterson's question.
"Oh - nothing much, really."
"Nothing much? You mean to tell me that "nothing much" has happened over the last six months?"
"Yeah... well, there's not much to tell you, James. I'm back in the business getting paid.. live in a house by myself in St Louis, Missouri - beginning to talk to my mother now and again... there's not much to it."
Peterson nodded his head in approval, before writing some more nonsense down on his clipboard whilst Storm looked around the room, nervously. Peterson's office was pretty luxurious, leather couches, a bar on one side of the room and on the other a flat screen TV with a projector. With various art pieces on the wall, as well as various books written by Peterson stacked on a bookshelf behind him. Peterson stopped writing and raised his head, beginning to speak.
"You're a lot quieter, Mark. I feel like you're hiding something from me. Something that you want to tell me but your sub-conscious doesn't want you to. I remember Mark.. a year ago. You were a completely different man. You were confident, extrovert, and loved having a good time with your friends. From my notes here.. you don't seem to have any friends? The last contact you made with someone was Joey Edwards? A former tag partner of yours I see. But he lives over in London so you rarely ever see him... except from Edwards.. there's Madison Mitchell.. - "
"How do you know that?"
"There is something called the Internet Mark, besides, I've seen what you've had to say about her on twitter.. wanna talk about that?"
"Not really."
Once again another brief silence exasperated the room, leaving the tension in the room high as the two glared at each other. Storm becoming more comfortable as he sank into his chair, clasping his hands together as he waited for Peterson to counter.
"I also hear.. from the therapists I assigned for you to see.. that you've created this alter ego of yourself.. a figment of your imagination, it appears. A brand new friend in your "Stormtropolis" universe... Rick The Ruler..."
The two once again shared a quick glance. Storm licking his dry lips as he contemplated how to reply to that, looking around the room quickly again before regaining concentration.
"What's it to you?"
"I'm your therapist Mark, I'm here to help you get rid of these figments."
"Well what if I don't want you to? What you gonna do then, James? Six months. Six months James. That's a long time. You've been away for six months and what do you expect? You expect me to open up to you again? Like the good old days? Bullshit. You're bullshit. You're full of shit. You left me in the dark, stranded, alone... you left me, and I had no one!"
"Is that how you felt? You felt alone and so you created this character to comfort you?"
"You don't get it do you?!"
Storm laughed at himself, obviously amused as he wiped the tears away from his eyes - laughing that hard that he began to tear up a little.
"You were the only guy who I felt could help me. I trusted you. I thought that I was only going to get through this with you... but that's bullshit. You wanna know how I feel? I honestly feel like the king of the fucking world man. I'm the king of the world. I feel both happy and sad at the same time. But you wanna know who's been keeping my sanity? It wasn't some bullshit therapist in an office.. it was an imaginary German! Can you believe that? The only reason I haven't fallen off the tracks and reverted back to alcohol and drugs, is because of an imaginary German! Who seems to be the only guy who believes in me.. you know what fuck this man.. this is bullshit."
Storm rose from his seat, gasping as he turned away from Peterson and exited the room. Peterson sat startled from Storms comment, taking off his glasses before looking once again at his notes - beginning to read them to himself.
"So... to summarize... Mark Storm.. a year ago Mark was full with confident.. a different man; a lot of friends, and known in the indy scene.. death of his father... triggered hallucinations.. triggered mild schizophrenia.. became dark however wanted help.. And now - created a figment of himself.. seems to only listen to him.. not many friends.. lives alone - indicating he is on his own most of the time.. only indicates that he spends a lot of time with Rick ... Eh, from my understanding - had a brief crush on Madison Mitchell... is hiding something... doesn't want to reveal. Jesus. I need to get back in his good books."
