There were three brothers once:
Let’s call them Good, Bad and Third.
Good wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted to be the person who takes care of others, who is the perfect son, the perfect Friend.
He could not see others in misery, their pain weakened his knees. He couldn’t imagine a world with sorrow and suffering. All he ever wanted to was to bring smile to everyone’s face.
And he had to fight to do that, and what was worse: He had to fight his brother Bad.
Bad hated the world. He wanted to inflict pain on others. Make fun of them. Bully them. And every blow given to Good only made Bad more heinous. He just wanted to make the world burn.
He hated God, for he hated himself too. He hated his brothers but he hated someone else hurting them more. Whimsical and tyrannical, he sought to make sure that when he gained control of world, he would remember everyone who brought him to his knees would suffer.
And so fought the two brothers. Again and again. Good crying over fighting his brother, Bad laughing in self hatred.
But where was the Third?
Third sat on the throne. His cavalier manner, indulgence and negligence exacerbated everything. After all, Third decoded to sit on the throne only till either of the two brothers become victorious just so he could be on his way.
This is how it has always been: Good and Bad fighting through all eternity, while Third sat idle. And under his, world rejoiced in freedoms, and under his world burned.
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