Year of Wine and Roses: Reconstruction
Aug 28, 2022 13:57:21 GMT -5
CJ Phoenix, Downfall, and 1 more like this
Post by Dionysus on Aug 28, 2022 13:57:21 GMT -5
| My mind has gone blank. I stopped talking. I lost the thread somewhere. That incessant ticking is getting in the way.  I turned my head, catching an eyeful of bright light from the window. A moment passed before my vision cleared. I was sitting in an office, in a comfortable leather chair, aged but still good to sit in. The room itself suited my tastes; the floor was a rich burgundy with a rug that was decorative but not flashy, a birch bookshelf lined one of the walls and was filled with books, statues, and assorted bookends. The desk matched the bookshelf, a well-polished birch in the executive style. And in front of that desk sat an older-looking gentleman holding a notepad, his right leg crossed over the left. Perhaps not old enough to be a parent, though the laugh lines and crows feet stood out along his gaunt face, adorned with a clean cut, if greying, goatee. His hair, smart as it was, did not seem to match his greyness. But among all other descriptions, it was the eyes. Perhaps a bit dull, but they were sharp. His gaze felt more like he was seeing through me than at me. And yet...there was a familiarity to him. Somewhere I knew him outside these walls. "Well?" He inquired, pausing his writing. Despite his analytical and robotic body language, there was a slight hint of concern behind those words. "You were in the middle of talking about your life until this point." I shrugged. "Apologies, doctor." ...Yes, something was coming back. He is a doctor; a psychiatrist, if I remembered right. But something felt off...better to play it safe. "I didn't mean any offense. My mind went elsewhere for a moment." The gaunt man tapped his pen against the pad. "We discussed this in our last session. When your mind wanders, that is your disassociation trying to retell the story. My...disassociation? "You have made great improvement from your most recent head injury, but I did advise that these symptoms would continue if left unchecked. Your occupation does not really aid you in your recovery, either. So please, do take these exercises seriously." I adjusted myself, sitting up more fully and clasping my hands together. "You know I would do anything to feel right again," I pleaded, still uneasy of where I met this doctor before. "It was a momentary lapse, nothing more. These are...difficult memories. As much as I know they will do me harm again, I want to remember them. I need to be cured, or at the very least be able to manage my condition." That analytical expression broke when his eyebrow raised, the doctor's hand moving swiftly along his notepad to note what I had just said. "And tell me, Dionysus-" I held up a hand to interrupt, looking him in the eye. "You know Dion will do. Plain, simple Dion." More scratching as the doctor wrote down more notes. The clock's ticking became more manageable in his ears. "Then Dion. Why is it that you want to remember?" I wrung my hands together, my thoughts twisting and turning once more. Flashes of the memories I had been all too familiar with. The car accident all those years ago. Divine's menacing shadow. The debts to be repaid. My mother's condition. Benny's altruism. "So I can never forget again. Who I was. What I had to fight for. Somewhere, I lost my voice. My sense of self. I want to-no, I need to remember." "And remember you shall," The doctor assured, with an odd comfort that felt both clinical and sincere. "Please, continue. We have much work ahead of us."  |
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I have no doubt you are all familiar with the tale of Sisyphus. Its one of those stories that's used about as often as Icarus is. Seriously, all these great greek myths and these are the two we land on? We really can't find something new? ...Huh, guess not. Well, in the spirit of tradition, if you are somehow unfamiliar, I'll summarize as best I can. Sisyphus was a king of Corinth who was known for his deceptions and trickery. In life, his cruelty earned the ire of Zeus, and in death, he not only managed to chain Hades (resulting in death being prevented), but also leave the Underworld by convincing Persephone to allow him passage. Fed up with his bullshit, the gods punished Sisyphus by having him push a boulder up a hill for all eternity. While I wouldn't consider myself a cruel person, I do see myself at the punishment stage of Sisyphus's life. Perpetually pushing that boulder, then, once it nearly reaches the top, it rolls back down again. I stumble, my grip slips, more metaphors. The Year of Wine and Roses has yet to bear the fruit I have desired. The difference between me and others that are pushing the boulder, like John Black, is that I am not sitting idly by content with pushing this thing along and hoping one day it will happen. I work hard. I put on fantastic matches. And yes, you'll hear it again; I am partially responsible for the longest single tag title reign. I know I have it in me to push this boulder over the hill rather than along it. John Black, for all his posturing, has yet to do so. Sure, he has been a champion before, and I'm not ashamed to admit I had to look back and remember that fact. But that was nearly a year ago. Now he's coasting, pushing the boulder but without a purpose. And Ashton? What is there to say? Just your usual from the box Build-A-Heel. I'm fairly certain you can find these at IKEA labeled as "häl," but it will be missing a few pieces, namely personality and style. Just another figure to push another boulder. I remember being the guy who was proud to be the measuring stick to test guys like this, but now I can't be bothered. So welcome in, get the lumps you have coming to you, and realize that describing yourself as "gods gift to wrestling" will get you maybe a two-for-one coffee at Starbucks, a pat on the back, and concerned looks from everyone around you. There has been a period where I thought this was going to be my lot in life; always the bridesmaid and never the bride. Always watching the home team win while I'm warming up the bench, waiting for my hero moment. That so long as I put the work in and do the right things, that I would be able to overcome. And yet, that philosophy has not panned out well. So my choices were pretty simple from there; wallow in that misery and continue on that path, or separate myself from the pity party, shift gears, and steer the ship in a new direction. I will give you all three guesses which choice I made. I refuse to end up like John, continuing to push the boulder and continually rolling down the hill. I refuse to end up like Ashton, who will no doubt hop over as a big fish in a small pond, realizing much too late that the waters here are much less forgiving than his own. I am in all too familiar territory; back at the base of the hill, the boulder firmly in my grasp, ready to be pushed anew. This is but another first step in a line of first steps. But hey, just because I have to reorient myself doesn't mean I have to completely change, right? Since we're sticking with whimsey, I'll leave you with a present, John. Since you're keen on rhyming, permit me to summarize your career...in limerick form. John Black's career has come to a stop, as he contemplates going to the top, it is tricky to pick, much like Ashton's limp dick, which of his bones will go pop. |
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