If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. (:
Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?