I had an argument with my alter ego about which one of us should eat the last slice of pizza. My alter ego won, and I went to bed more hungry than I should have.
I would say that it is not easy to be a king. The invisible crown does not fit me. It tends to go askew time and time again. It makes me uncomfortable setting it straight. Moreover, the wind of change is constantly threatening to blow away this monarchal symbol of mine. It sickens me. For if it falls fown, I will not be able to find it due to its invisibility. So, all in all it is not easy to be a king. It is not easy to rule this empire of one.
I used to breathe quarter-lungs. It was my diurnal routine, my casual state of living. Such consumption of the atmos was emblematic of dying beings confined to their sickbeds. But otherwise I was mimicking the society regulars, cooking myself dinner, gazing at shooting stars, summarizing today's deeds, making plans for tomorrow. Maybe I was to afraid to live, and the omnipotent unconscious of mine who controlled the soundtrack switched low-energy. My body got used to not getting enough oxygen. It got used to be prepared for death.
Today I woke up from a bad dream, lost and aghast. I glanced at my watch to come back to reality. The hour hand had just passed two. Angst had been dwelling under my ribs. It took away my youth, it ate my flesh. I closed my eyes and peered inside. My Angstzustand was albino.
I was once in a small and ancient town in Moravia. It was autumn; a glorious yet murky evening. Yellow leafs were scattered on the pavement. I walked among old gloomy Czechs.