Cover story 52: My friend said
The real Sven was a cocky angry brat. Even he couldn't stand looking at himself. But nobody would care to ask or take a bit of his burden so he burdened himself in being the person he wish he was. He was never him. As he got informed of the mission he took on his old teammates Astolfer and George. Because he knew something fishy was amuck.
Amuck the perfect word and yet stinky to pronounce
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I found a me who was hungry today. He was laying on that sofa of mine. I could never pay attention to that wreck. Not before at the least, he hid his face and what else am I supposed to look at. My mind said be nice and ask why he was crying, my pride said I will not move or look away until he unhides his face. I always saw myself faceless he said, he was crying and I just stood there because he still hadn't shown his face. Thinking I would never cry who was this man masquerading as me, the me I knew not even once did he ever cry. I never even yearn for such, not anymore. He followed me even after all my "go away's and boo's" and wherever I went he followed. I had a walk, and he was there. I have no sympathy for anybody, why would I have such for me. I hadn't been a landlord for a while, sometimes I wonder what they are doing he said. All I could say as a respons to his idiocy was how I am making an effort to be a good man so don't hang yourself up on the small things ... when did I ever picture myself so depressed before, I am and always was the great and mighty man ... not some coward. I helped my community later on in the day, gave them books to learn from, built them houses to use and gave them an economy to trade for as well as offered them stock and food. (Turns out I was always born a business man, people were jumping at the opportunity of accepting my deal, but also jumpy because it was me they were talking too the one who could turn them to dust if I wanted too).
After that on DAY 1 ...
"That wasn't the first day", she said.
Let me finish, ahem. On day 1 I found he was still behind my back ... like dude, am I schizo or what I thought. Then I came across the other one, the egotistical one. I had zero in the bank at this point but I felt just as rich as I did before. Asking myself if there was somethin wrong with me, it didn't help, I was just less engaged and bored while writing. Thinking I have good days, I have bad days, but how much good do I decerve before the bad takes it away. I peed that day and whatever I saw made me thing of the yin and yang symbol. How it must be a fifty fifty day, first half good, and then a bad ending. But I sat there, on that chair of mine, nothing happened, did I want something to happen? The sad thing is, I did. I want more and more, yet no matter how good I do I will never be good because I can never give up on that one thing that came back to me after being gone for what felt like a century. I sat there on the edge of my seat ... reading that classic about the clown who rides a small tricycle trapping people and making them cut their own limbs off.
Day 2 those crazy images of me didn't leave, I started naming them prince one and two, because atleast they resemble something perfect atleast even if they don't act the part. "You see those immigrants can't even look the part of perfection", the ego one said, "immigrants are people who crossed the border, those are our neighbors, why must I be the smart one", he ... the crying one said while crying. "You both can shove plastic up your cranium and choke on it let me be and SHUT IT" I said. Other than me annoying me it was a pretty good day, a young girl came up to me to ask for her ball and me being me turned her head picked her up and sat her down facing another potential individual she could disturb. My time is me time, not you time.
I could say my heart grew three sizes that day just like the grinch, now applaud my efforts doctor. "And why are you here sir", my therapist asked me. "Am I not perfect, do I not lead a good life, am I starting to imagine things out of loneliness", I asked. Fin.