If you were alone, would you feel truly alone? 

A question that can be asked on many instances, applied to many situations. It seems silly to think about, because surely if you're alone, then it would mean no one there is to accompany you at that moment in time, right? Well, there could be a more philosophical view to it...

A small lightbulb supported by a cord swung ever so slightly like a pendulum, as it consistently croaked an eerie creek every time it switched direction. Its presence not only loomed over a desolate 16x16 weathered ring, but also over a a man sporting a black Adidas tracksuit, who had his hands firmly gripped onto the corner of the apron. With a closer look, it can be identified that this man was in deep thought as he stared blankly towards the other side of the ring. With a distinctive facial hair styling only fit for one man, this man could only be identified as "The Wrestling Paragon", Scott Barnett. 

Scott showed very little emotion, in contrast to how he would in heated situations inside of a ring, as he was rolling back the years of his career thus far. One question poked at his thoughts the most: "What did I really accomplish?". In all honesty, Scott did not accomplish much. In fact, he had only been in one pay-per-view in his whole career, which is not much to say in comparison to the likes of Alexander Monroe, Nic Virtue, and even Maxwell Verdi. This started to prod at Scott's integrity, because no matter how hard he believed that he was indeed one of the most technically gifted athletes to grace the sport, he never had anything to prove it. The doubt crawling into Scott's mind made him twitch, as his head slowly folded and he ended up looking square at the apron. Scott started to become irritated, as he indulged himself deeper into this question; could he truly consider himself an icon in this business? Is it truly young ego over experience? 24 is only a young age, and Scott believed that there is much more to be accomplished in not only a championship-sense, but also about the sport in general.

Scott grunted in disgust, as the soundwaves bounced off the dust-riddled walls. In a quick fashion, Scott raised his right arm, clenching his hand into a ball in the process, before slamming down flat handed accompanied with a quick snap up of the head. Scott started to breath audibly heavily through his nose with his eyesight returning to what it was, as he soon realised that he lost the one thing that he promised to keep during the beginning of his wrestling career; to never lose the love for the game. Scott realised he let the fame and fortune get to his head.  Scott's irritation soon turned into anger, as he was confined in a mental jailcell that he desperately seek escape from. A quick reminder of Scott's apartment in Westbrook, Maine, allowed the haunting of Rolex watches, the Armani suits, and Sports cars all purchased from competing in high-profile matches with the likes of the aforementioned. Moralistically, it was never about the money for Scott. However, the high-life took his pride, and has allowed to consume him starting from the heart. Scott found comfort in glory, when it actuality, it was never there. He believed that true accomplishments and fulfillment lies within title belts, in which he hadn't succeeded to grasp as of yet.

Scott had to quickly recollect his thoughts before he spiraled into a mental breakdown. 

A couple of deep breaths managed to calm him down, and bring him back to earth. With a clear mind, he stopped, and thought about one question that could sum up this entire thought process:

Khru Bill Judd told Scott that he would never be alone as long as he had his fight left in him. But, it was at this point, that Scott felt alone. Scott felt very alone, because the metaphorical love of his life was being slowly dragged away by the pitchfork known as materialism. With this realisation, Scott felt reinvigorated, as his deep breaths of panic turned into calculated focus. As he finally recollected himself through a short, but revitalizing moment of self-thought, he climbed onto the ring apron, ready to resume his cardio training with a new philosophy in mind.

-End-