all the world's a stage

and all the men and women merely players: They have their entrances and their exits. Soaked in the steamy hot tub, I am breaking the "longest bath ever taken record" and while at it, doing some thinking... Recently, figments from the past re-surfaced and caught me by surprise. I realised that I'm still drowning in a sea of anger, resentment and regrets... It isn't news cause I have a good sense of who I am and where I stand... I'm not a fool and don't deny nor repress my emotions. Yet feeling so vulnerable and emotional years after a trauma hit me hard. I believe that the idea of waisted time is illusionary. Therefore we evolve even when we think we don't. So warm and content from so much bath heat, I tell myself that whatever path I'm into, it is the right one. That's when I realised I might never recover from some life changing event. Deceptive company, poor decision making can mess you up for ever... Pouring once again more hot water I was trying to figure out how to move on/grow the healthier possible way despite all these feelings on which I have such poor control on. I want to be proactive and refuse to be a victim. The survivor I am's gonna keep on shining... It's a must. I then got this insight: maybe it's not about recovering as much as making it about me. There's many actors in my unfortunate chapter... Sorry characters who no longer have room in My play. Yet, I've been giving "these now virtual players" power to develop the story further and take control of my future. Well, "no more" I say! These vilains only exist because I let them exist. They are part of me only if I allow them to. They are given the importance I give them. It is therefore time to fire every gloomy participating actor of the sad act of my life. From my womb tub I make it official : I fire all of the actors but the protagonist! I cannot turn back the already read red pages, can only write the present therefore future. From now on, the only person responsible of my tale is me, the person to blame when the story turns sour is me again and I am the one to put myself out of my history misery, thank you. (end of the act).