Since I still felt the lingering phantoms of my treatment at the claws of the Clown, I guess MODA was right.

I kept counting. Numbers have purpose. I have purpose.

I slowly got up and tested my mobility. I started my exercise routine, going through it mechanically, without active thought.

Everything seemed functional. No strange hitched or misalignments. My regeneration was truly remarkable.

My mind turned to the time in the Dream. I began to tremble.

No, I will face my weakness. I will face my pain. I will keep counting.

I ran what I remember through my thoughts again and again. 'It was the past, it could no longer hurt me.'

I took a great lungful of air before slowly releasing it. Repeat. I tried to clear my mind.

I played with meditation a lot when I was younger. I liked the idea of being able to let your thoughts pass through you without affecting you.

Lack of connection had brought repressed feelings. Lack of confrontation had lead to the suppression of desire. At first, I had stopped wanting things that where not needed. Later I stopped needing the little things like attention, or concern, and then friends or love. Or so I had thought.

'But you don't ever really stop. You can not.'

My fingers danced my thumbs constantly touching each of my fingertips, again and again.

The Clown was right about one thing.

Repression isn't healthy. Tucking away all the things that bother you, serves only to insure you will face them again, when you are least prepared.

'I am better than this. I will not get fucked up over this.'

I stopped counting. I started again.

So, yes, it had dug in good. The fear, the pain. There was no quick battle here. I now had a war in my heart. A war I couldn't afford to lose.

'Wars are best fought logistically.' I paused. Are they really? I mean, it was obvious that without supplies the enemy couldn't fight as effectively, but was that truly the best way?

I had nothing. I couldn't think of anything else that would work.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

'Alright, how do you starve trauma?'

That's where I got stuck. Trauma feeds on your fear and your pain. It causes you to behave in negative ways, with more and more extreme reactions, which lead to more fear and pain. Eventually you isolate to avoid more feedback, and/or others begin to avoid you because you are hard to deal with. You sit and soak in it, the water of your life turning foul and hostile to yourself. A quagmire of feelings that pull you deeper and further from everything that could help you.

So avoid isolation. Reach out no matter how hard that is.

'Who do I have?' I started mulling that over. "Who do I have?"

Not much. Nothing at the moment really. A few tentative connections.

I stopped counting...

'What have I been doing?'

Avoiding everything I could, because it hurt too much to be betrayed. Everything betrayed me? Yeah, in some ways sure. It does that. Get over it, you're not special.

The nature of existence, is a fight to prove you deserve to exist for one more day. Sometimes it's worse than that, sometimes rocks fall from the sky and everything dies.

We're the ones who try to make it anything else.

'Maybe too far into the existential there.' I chuckled at myself.

Okay, I was full of issues. What do I do?

Surround myself with people. GOOD people.

I started counting.

'Do those exist?'

I don't know. What is a good person?

'Is good to me, good enough?'

Yeah, I think it would be.

'What's the best way to gather people?'

I chewed on that a while.

Shared beliefs maybe. Shared Goals surely. Shared interests. Okay, that's a good place to start.

What do I believe? That would take too long. I had proof Gods were real, so that was out. By that same token, so many things that required faith were now reality.

So what Ideas do I believe in?

Greater Goods? Nah, always end up doing really vile shit to achieve it.

Freedom, nah we don't really have it, or know what it would look like if we did, would it even be useful?

Human Spirit, no I've seen it falter too often.

Myself, no, but maybe I should start? Be the best me, all that rubbish. What would that even mean really?

Power, I mean yeah, it exists, I've seen what it could do. I've been both it's victim and beneficiary.

Goals? What Goals do I have?

Build a Base, Build up some livable land, Establish a Grove, See the Woen. Kill Molly. Don't die. Don't get tortured...

I stopped counting...I started counting again.

Okay, I had Goals. Solid Goals, Let's add Gather good people. Friends, maybe more someday, right? It not too late, anymore. I had time.

Yeah, okay find people with similar goals. Yeah, this was good. I felt good about this.

'Would they even want to be around you?'

And there it went.

I sighed. No, I would try. I had to, or the Clown would win.

Interests?

Reading, Playing TTRPGS, Shooting, Crushing my Enemies. Hot sweaty sex...

'Damned hormones.'

I stopped counting. I started counting again.

Okay, the first two are probably not going to be a thing here and now.

But shooting, I don't care what crazy World you end up in someone always loves shooting. Be it Bows or Guns or Cannons. I could find these kind of people. I mean there has to be a version of the Gun Gremlin somewhere, right?

Crushing Enemies is always a work in progress. New ones show up, old ones catch a bullet. Not really a good connection, as the alliance there would be temporary.

Sex, well. Sure. If I'm not going to kill some poor lady in the process. What kind of freak would want to bounce on my pogo stick?

It was something to ponder.

Did I feel better?

I ran the events of the Dream through my head again. And Again. It was maybe a little easier to face.

I ran through my body exercises again.

It was time to face life again.

If I wanted it to be better, I would have to fight for it. Prove myself to the World, the people, and myself.

I was still counting.