All I want to do is sit around at ease like a serene Olympian, build monumental edifices in my own honour, watch the pretty actors, and decapitate flies occasionally, but... well, it's like this: I'm desperately paranoid.
I grew up, you see, in the shadow of my brother. He was always the imperial poster-boy, cut down in his prime... before anyone got to see what he was really like. Everyone has been against me since day one.
Those pesky senators hedge me in. They are all 'stiff upper lip' and old school Romans, but I can tell that they are ever scheming against me - especially that talkative one from Comum and his terse friend. They are too good at not blushing at executions. At least, I've banished that sarky Spaniard to Egypt. That'll learn 'im.
Now even my freedmen are up to no good. Stephanus has a sling for one of his arms. Why!? Did I not give him permission to break his arm?
O Sibyl, what's an emperor to do?
-- Domitianus Caesar Augustus Germanicus, son of the deified Vespasianus, Pontifex Maximus, trib.pott. 15x, imperator 22x, coss. 17x, father of the fatherland in perpetuity.
Get over yerself!