Triadic Tales - Recovery - Short Story (Part Three)





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It's crazy. I have more power lying here, between death and, well. what? I have more power than I ever dreamed of having. These people seem to live by my every word. 

People around the world must learn my name. 

Here I am learning the ropes. But it is deceptive.

When it is just me staring at the ceiling in the dark, I see things clearly. These nice people are  playing me. They intend to kill me. Who am I trying to kid?

They think we did a massive wrong. They say they want to understand. But what's to understand?
 
We just did it. It was mean. But there was no more anger on the street than in the ring. Letting go. 

There was accomplishment. Making history. Going where no one had ever been.

Figure it out. They tell us to learn to think. Thinking gets you to look at a larger picture. When you do, you see the truth. We are either what we determine to be or we are nothing.

But now I see that's too easy.  I have hit the wall, I am a good actor. A great imitator. A pleaser. But I know exactly where this leads, And when it gets there, I lose. Not my life. Something worse.  

I see that I am actually one of them. We are all recovering. This was about a foolish fantasy and how things really are. 

God. 

And if it's that simple, how can I get out of this? 

I need to think some more.

I am recovering big time. And just now, I am the only one who knows what that means.  


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