July| Vol. 22 No. 8.02 | Christian's Chronicles © 2015 – All rights reserved.
Although years of full-contact mixed-martial-arts competition and various other means of self-abuse, with only occasional sprinkles of sobriety, have arguably compromised the structural integrity matrix of my brain responsible for the chronologically and contextually appropriate coding of memories in the holo-deck of experience I jestingly call my ‘self,’ occasional glimmers of recollections bubble to the periphery, along with a vague feeling that once, long ago, they were in sharp focus. This façade of firmness, an exterior of smooth, delicious and uniform chocolate coating, hides the gaping holes where the creamy filling of the pastry between my ears has been rendered vacuous like Swiss cheese. Yet something remains even in the empty spaces where the sweet, intense, gooey vanilla flavor was displaced by the psychiatric-vacuum-remnants of corporeal injury.
One such phantom spawned recently in the most unlikely of places was the mirage of youthful devotion, puppy-love as strong and irrational in its passion as it was relentless in its devotion. That an email advertisement should conjure up such long-lost matters of the heart seems as improbable as the chance of cupid’s arrows finding their mark without spilling a few drops of blood or shedding tears. Yet, like a distant ship sailing to port of consciousness from the horizon of time, little by little her image grew more and more defined as she approached, until at last, her full glory in view, I could speak her name once more.
My lips still tremble at the mention of her name; a lady, a princess, an object of adolescent desire with promises of everlasting joy to whom I pledged endless hours of pursuit and perseverance through whatever challenge or enemy would stand in my way, until the eventual conquest would finally satisfy my lust, and Zelda would be mine, all mine, forever and always.
And now, in my inbox, a bittersweet reminder of those endless quests and mysteries that filled my heart-containers with an unknown force so powerful that bolts of energy could for the first time shoot forth from the tip of my sword, a Groupon for Zelda themed symphony. Though Zelda was the only princess I pursued with my energized sword, alas she was not singular in her loyalty to me. What I took to be a monogamous relationship of solemn devotion was revealed to be a game shared by such numbers of admirers that there are enough of them to fill symphony-halls, and share our songs, Zelda’s and mine, to reminisce of their own adventures with my lady.
Though I have quested through the green fields of Hyrule and the desolate craters of Death Mountain, learning melodies and spells, collecting magic items and defeating enemies, fighting and eventually defeating the evil Gannon himself, I will not share the special times I had with the first lady who enraptured my young heart and mind with the hordes of interlopers who now would intrude on the sanctity of our relationship. Zelda was mine, and mine alone. Although it is easy for all to appreciate these moving melodies, since any but the coldest of hearts is bound to be touched by them, yet these songs, which are mere stories to the tearful audience, are the tales of my first love; Zelda and I – my life.
I still love you Zelda!