Where are all those little background noises when you need them most?

You know what I’m talking about. Stuff like wind blowing down your chimney or raining hitting your window. The TV made me feel as if I was alone in the world. No kids scuttling round the house. No little blonde wife asking me what I wanted for dinner.

Chris Champion and his TV set. Stuff like this reminded me of being grounded once again. Back, in my old room, with those same invisible chains binding me to the wall.

Am I free? No.

I’m still a prisoner. These four walls ensure I have no escape. I’m not talking about the bricks that make up my house either; I’m talking about metaphorical towers that close me in. I’m trapped because of the life that I lead.

I’m a prisoner because I wrestle for the HWF. It’s the same old faces every day. They may as well be prison guards to me. None of them can truly set me free. Not even Shawn Collins.

I’m a prisoner because I’m subjected to this celebrity lifestyle. I can’t sleep without the phone ringing. I can’t walk the streets without being pestered. Everyone wants to speak to Chris Champion.

I’m a prisoner because I refer to myself in the third person. I don’t necessarily want to, but because I am a superstar, I feel I have to.

I’m a prisoner because I can’t break this cycle of defeats. It’s gone on for far too long now. Life just isn’t fun any more. I want to go back to Disney Land. I want to see my little brother cracking anti American jokes one more time.

And that’s why I’ll keep fighting for that vacation in Florida every time I step into the ring.