Being Honest With Fiction

I used to think the trick behind staying out of trouble was not to get caught. Or is this the case of me stating the obvious.
Don’t get caught are often someone’s famous last words.
Either that, or maybe the other trick to this would be to have a great attorney because, of course, that always helps.

I used to find myself in positions where I had to say things like, I can neither confirm nor deny any of the said allegations against me. Therefore, any questions going forward must be directed towards my attorney and answered by him.
And yes. I admit it.

I have been brought in for questioning.
I’ve been caught red-handed.
I have been positioned in front of the famous, “good cop, bad cop,” scenarios and to add color, yes.
This has happened to me with the bright lights on my face, left wrist handcuffed to a desk, and with my ears ringing from the beating delivered to me by the interrogating officers. Or more accurately in cases like this; I have seen it where there was no good cop. There was just a bad cop and a worse cop. And again, I truly believed the best way to stay out of trouble was simple.
Don’t get caught! 

It never dawned on me to play the game straight. I never believed in my own abilities. Therefore, I never considered playing the game by rules because I always assumed that losing (or failing) was inevitable.
I used to cheat on tests.
I was good at that.
I hated the feeling of being the fool or looking stupid or being the prey instead of an apex predator.
But in all fairness; I was a weakling.
Weak . . .
As in, I never realized the dignity it takes to train and work hard. I never knew about the secrets of my endurance and nor was I aware that I am far more capable than my fears or insecurities allowed me to believe.
Then again, when you are called “stupid,” or told you are dumb, words like this tend to dig in deep and leave a believable impression.

I have to say this. I have to admit to the truth and call myself out because yes, I have to own what I’ve done.

I have to “fess up” as we used to say.

And, it’s not like I am scum or some kind of villain or anyone other than your normal, average, or run-of-the-mill person with fears and insecurities. 

But why?
Why are we afraid to lose or fail?
Why do we allow the opinions or the acceptance from other people to be so important?

Why do we lie?
Why do we make up stories?
Why do we manipulate people, places, and things in fear of rejection or loss or some other uncontrollable thing?

Why?
Why is there such a fear of being alone?
Why have I always been afraid to get left out, or miss out, and why in the world do I focus on the bad friends or bad people when there are literally billions of great people all around me?

I am not evil, by any means, but I admit to looking for an edge or “getting over” by any means necessary.

Here’s what no one sees . . .
Cheating hurts.
I know this full and well.
Cheating breaks hearts.
I know this too well.
I know what I have done
Cutting corners and playing the odds or looking for the easy way is not always going to work out.
I learned this the hard way.

I remember sitting in offices after finding out that I was caught on tape . . .
I remember sitting in precincts because I thought I could get away with something . . .

I remember being beat up because I tried to con someone.
I remember sitting in the basement of a home, which was supposed to be an apartment, but if anything; this was just a room, humid and mold-ridden, and reeking like old clothes.
I was there because I lost everything.
And I deserved to lose.
I did.
It took some time to regain myself, let alone what I lost.
I am still recovering and perhaps I might never reach where I was before. or , maybe I will surpass myself and my limitations or the expectations from those who predicted that I will fail.

I have come to the understanding that everyone has life happening to them. Everyone has their own history. Everyone has their own secrets.
Everyone has their own skeletons hiding in their own closets and yes, we all have the unknown sins that we hope never come to light.

I am no different. Therefore, I am no better or worse.
Just honest enough to say that here I am, looking to face the firing squad.

I have more than my share of faults and flaws, but at some point, yes. The roosters come home to roost.
The impurities rise to the top . . .

I get that.

Maybe this is too little too late.
Maybe my thinking has led me to where I am and so, to improve my thinking, I have to change my actions and therefore, changing my actions will allow me to change my feelings.

And that, my friend . . .
That is how I am going to get where I want to be
Alone or not
This is the first day of the rest of my life.