Paper Crown

I walk about with a paper crown on my head. It is cut from yellow construction paper and held together with masking tape. With it, I build my own cozy kingdom where everything is just so. My realm is one of plenty, always sunny, but not too warm. I live in a large castle with plenty of rooms for my friends and family. When I require solitude, I can retire to the sprawling gardens.

Thanks to my paper crown, I want for nothing. My royal court selflessly fulfills my every wish and celebrates the smallest of my accomplishments. Strangers never harbor violence toward my kingdom. Instead, they bring good tidings and gifts. We feast far into the evening every night. When my eyes grow weary, I crawl into my grand canopy bed with a puppy to cuddle.

Alas, the tape is weak, and the crown falls from my temples. The illusion is shattered. I am but one particle adrift in a vast, cold ocean at the mercy of the wind, currents, the gravity of the moon. I am jumbled together with countless others, all hoping to have food to eat and a place to sleep for one more day.

Do I repair this paper crown with fresh tape? Pull it low over my eyes and continue this charade? Do I make believe I am king of the ocean, and that the tides come and go at my command? Will this flimsy paper suffice?

Or do I let this toy be taken by the waves and be disintegrated by the brackish waters? Do I submit to the currents and be taken where I do not know? Do I embrace my banality? Do I embrace the common particles around me?

I might lose my sanity without my paper crown. It is quite jarring to go from emperor to a mere mote in the seas. Maybe I will fold it up carefully and keep it in my pocket. Maybe that will be enough for now.