So not too long ago, I got this letter from a long-time fan. After divulging trivial pieces of personal information for my consumption, he asked me one simple question; "Where do I get my ego from?"

A curious thought.

There's an echo that rains down from his words, piercing the light with an edge of darkness. Even his most subtle of allusions carry a scathing sharpness that few armors can reflect. There's nothing curious about these words, except for the ignorance of those who speak them.

Maybe it was the months I went undefeated? I'm sure there was enough success there for me to brandish some bravado, and maybe I even tucked some away for future use.

Of course, anyone who went back an watched me speak even a sentence can tell you I never boasted about any one victory, let alone consecutive ones. Oh, sure, I had to rebut a couple of misinformed persons from time to time.. But the fact is a couple of strung together wins isn't special enough to get me all aflutter.

Maybe I found ego in carrying Kyle Stevenson up to tag-team gold? Everyone and their brother shook their heads in disbelief when I pulled that one off, right?

I didn't. I never doubted that team for a second, even after I took the blame for our sole loss at an Unsanctioned pay per view. That wasn't a feat to behold, that was two men working together for a common goal. Nothing more.

Wait, I know.. Must be that hall of fame induction, right? Such an honor is bound to go to any man's head. Gotta believe that at the very least its vindication for a storied career.

Not this story. Not this career.

I put that plaque on e-Bay soon as I could. Not because I hold some kind of disdain for this federation - far from it. I hold this federation in quiet esteem. I did it because I can't allow myself to indulge in a gluttonous feast of praise, and continue on with all the weight that brings with it. I don't do this so that others can shower me with approval. If you want a gold star for your effort, fine. Take it. Tell yourself that everything you've done has been worthwhile and that you're a real go-getter. How many feel so glorified when others erupt at the mere mention of their name? How many find their ego in paltry awards and leather and gold placebos?

Where do I get my ego? Before you ask me that question; you better find some, bitch.

Falling down in circles as he passes overhead. An uncorrupted chorus of dignity sung by angels who have never wavered from their path.

The fact is that my anonymous fan and too many others have put me up on this pedestal solely to justify their own shortcomings. They can't fathom how one man can have so much success where they have found so little - and yet never be satisfied. All they want is a taste. They yearn for it so badly, they think surely I've had my fill. Never. I've never once cooled my lips with that ambrosia. Am I a lyrical demi-god? Certainly there are those out there who think so. In reality I use simple logic and make a priori arguments against the fallacious accusations others put against me. Am I the pinnacle of athletic prowess?

If that were the case, I could've taken on Phoenix and every one of his lackeys that night to emerge a champion for the ages.

How many more of you need to affix yourselves to my name to carry it up a little higher?

How many want to drag me down into the filth you call home just so you can say "he lives here, too"?

The fact is that everyone here has a choice. Settle and fall in line with all the rest, or set your sights for something higher. Don't be satisfied with what I do, carve out your own name or your own image. Otherwise, I will break you down as swiftly as I'm billed to do. Ronald Gay. So starving for some semblance of direction you call upon Ian to set you strait. Do you carry yourself with so little confidence? Are you that unable to tell when your best isn't good enough you need someone else to tell you? You're certainly not alone if that's the case. I suppose at some time or another most of this promotion has looked to someone else for guidance or reassurance. A pat on the back or a hug or maybe a simple nod in their direction.

None of that is going to put my shoulders to the mat. The level that Ian holds you to is fucking dog shit when stacked against the level of physicality I hold myself to week in and week out. You can think what you want about my claims, but the history more than justifies me when I say that no bar is ever high enough for me. Any time I see it raised I work steadfastly to raise it even moreso. An inch. And then another inch. Higher and then when I'm done I start all over again. That's how I live my life.

So look to Ian or look to god if you think his judgment will serve you better. But if you take nothing else from this week, remember this.

Where any number of athletes with my résumé could come in and downplay everything you've ever done and everything you haven't... I won't. I'll give you every benefit of the doubt and assume that you are the better athlete. I will work and train believing that you are the better man and that you won't hesitate to break me in half to attain your desires.

If my assumptions prove false and you bring any less than that? You won't be able to leave Rampage under your own power. That's a fucking promise.

You're still fading away.