cory and zest
“My alter ego does not look in too great a mood today.” — Simon de Pury
cory was 17 when he first met zest on a cold day in february. he was alone and heavily sedated by the stimulants prescribed to him years earlier. With trembling hands and a propensity for anxiety, cory’s dull experience was edging toward mediocrity; a path he had seen unfold many times before. He had just broke up with his longtime girlfriend, and after a mental battle with the yips, he dissolved his baseball career before it had the chance to really begin. a path of self-destruction was also recognizable, as his childhood was disrupted by alcoholism, drug abuse, and verbal warfare that rang through the halls of a small house in spanaway.
it wasn’t obvious where he was heading, but there was a warm comfort in watching it all fall apart around him. it was familiar. it was exciting. he woke up early from the adderall that hadn’t worn off from the day before and sat in the dark trying to count the pulse rushing through his head. it was just quiet enough for zest to appear. “FUCK THIS SHIT,” he yelled. it was terrifying. it shook the bed where he laid and echoed through his skull, drowning the soft rhythm of blood with an energy so powerful he could do nothing but cry. they always used to say “cory is so sensitive” and they were right. there he sat, tears still running down his face, with a version of himself staring him dead in the eyes.
cory knew this feeling. the fire that emanated from zest was one that lived inside him since he was a kid, but was slowly conditioned out as he grew older. it turns out the chip on his shoulder had gotten so deep that the chasm took on a life of its own. all the anger, all the fear, all the ambition that had been repressed and sedated over the years was alive and ready to fuck everything up.
it took some time for it to fully manifest, and most of the time cory was able to completely suppress this side of himself. he found a way to graduate and moved three hours north to canada on impulse, deciding to be a Computer Science major at a small college in Langley. it seemed as if he was running away from what made him, but as it turns out he was running toward what he was meant for, and zest was really in the driver seat (unbeknownst to cory). after almost an entire year of school, the wandering ship had crashed into his inciting incident.
it was a girl. she was named after a city in texas and walked with a fire that he had never seen before. cory didnt know what was going on, but zest knew this girl was onto something. great taste in music, an eye for art, and a refined taste developed in the hills of kelowna. in an effort to express the words that cory couldn’t say, zest took the muse and decided to learn how to make. what started as little drawings on paper airplanes morphed into a wave so big he couldn’t stop. drawing scenes, writing poems, curating playlists, learning about fashion (which the girl was quite interested in), and eventually deciding that he was going to learn how to make music. the next year, he switched to an Art major and decided that was what he wanted to do.
it wasn’t just the girl. although she was everything to cory, zest had different plans. this was about self-discovery, self-expression, and the potential to be a creative force going forward. zest was taking on a life of his own and was dragging cory along for the ride. but after 2 years of learning and fighting and dreaming, his journey in canada had to come to an end. he dropped out, let go of his muse with an agreement of meeting up again when the time was right, and moved back home to the place that galvanized him as a kid. with failure and cheap whiskey on his breath, cory found himself sinking with no plan of resurfacing. he missed her. he missed his friends. he missed the plans that had filled his hopes with helium. but the dismay he felt had turned to boredom, and in that he found a beacon of light.
see, zest had spent those years becoming more powerful, and he wasn’t gonna let cory revert to the unexpressive version of himself. he grabbed a bundle of paint and some brushes, and sat on the floor to explore those feelings he had leaving it all behind, and as time went on, the art had seemed to take on a life of its own. zest was really in the driver seat now, and with a palpable vigor, he began to explore everything from fear to hope.
its been almost 3 years since cory had packed up his things and moved back home to try and figure it all out. in that time he has grown to take on zest as the yang to his yin. in that time he has grown to learn to love the muse from a distance. in that time he has turned from a meager recluse to a expressive socialite (who still has a propensity for introversion). now they are coming together, cory and zest, and honestly its been quite difficult for both of them. the path has been disfigured and the means have become more obscure, but the goal continues to shine.
they still do battle, but the distance has grown smaller.
