Fuck you, Matt.

Christ. It always has to be about you, doesn't it? If something goes wrong, someone else is to blame. If something doesn't go your way, you're the victim. If someone chooses me for a title shot over you, IT'S MY FAULT. Do you think we planned it? Do you think I said to Eric one night, hey! Let's fuck over my brother! Do you think I would really do that to you?

Newsflash: YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

I wasn't there to challenge Rob. I was there to back you up. You were perfectly fine, even excited about that, until all of the sudden that goddamned weasel shot his mouth off and pointed at me. I mean, I have no complaints about getting a shot - or, a shot at a shot - at the IC, but I was still pissed off because I knew this was supposed to be your thing. This is what you wanted, and it was ruined.

Me, the evil brother, pissed off about entering the IC title race because YOU COULDN'T. Yeah. Evil, my ass.

Of course, you didn't see it that way. All of your internal pain and anguish seems to emanate from my very pulse, because I get blamed for everything that goes awry in your pathetic little life. You saw it as a conspiracy. You thought I was out to get you, to push you down so that you couldn't take away all the fame I've been getting. Apparently, somewhere between our tag team status and our venture into singles competition, I became an arrogant, self-righteous prick. All because I can work a mike better than you can.

Well, maybe if you actually cared about this business half as much as you say you do, YOU WOULD NOT BE IN THE SHITTER. I can see how you act like you're so fucking bored all the time, and how it's like you're too good to waste your time practicing promos. You think that your in-ring skill (which you will not admit needs work) should do the talking for you. I'd say you're the one being self-righteous. You forget that nowadays, you need to have more than the wrestling skill. You have to have the people skill, too.

And you hate me because I've found it and you haven't.

You bitch and moan at me for getting more air time while you're stuck on Heat, for having matches with the higher-ups in the business, for holding more titles than you. For some reason you're under the impression that I'm getting a free ride because I dye my hair and paint my fingernails and wear jock straps on my face. I think you choose not to notice that I've been busting my ass twice as hard as you've been to be a better person in the business, and to expand on the ring style I already have. I'M DOING THINGS, and so I'm getting places. You're sitting on your ass and firing your mouth off and hey look, you're sinking like a brick.

Don't you fucking dare blame me for the hole you've dug for yourself.

You think you've got some sort of special right to everything. You figure that you've worked hard enough to get us where we are - I have no problem with admitting that - and so now you deserve your glory to be handed to you. For your knowledge, Matthew Moore, it is not that kind of business. It's not like you get into the bizz and then you sit on your throne and they feed you cookies. It's not that kind of atmosphere. You have to work to get here and you have to work to stay here.

Sue me if I want to stay.

I could fucking kill you for taking me out tonight. I could strangle you with my bare hands. Who in the hell do you think you are, destroying everything I've been working so hard for this year just because you can't do it yourself? I guess it's true when they say that misery loves company. I'm happy and you're in the dumps and you can't stand it. Together through everything, brothers for life, is that your justification? Well, it's bullshit. I hate you.

Sometimes I wonder if you've given up on it. I wonder if you've lost faith in yourself, and that's why you've become who you are. I wonder if you think that you'll never be able to do it, that you'll never be as good as you want to be, and so you want to just quit while you're ahead. I've never known you to give up, Matt, but it's the only explanation I can find that would tell me what's happening to you. Why are you doing this? I think that you've decided to give up and you want to take me with you.

Sorry, bro, it ain't gonna happen. I'm staying.

You can give me Twist of Fates all fucking day and I'll still get up. I'll still come to work the next day, I'll still be learning about how to develop my character and how to be better in the ring and how to be the next Triple H, the next Rock, the next Taker. I don't care if you've decided that you don't want it anymore. I still do, and fuck if I let you get to me.