Here I am, a pretentious pr***, ready with a little bit of trivia, having an opinion on every subject under the sun, trying to assert my superiority and intellectual insights. Even though I think I have the world figured out, every once in a while I realize how wrong I am.
I am self obsessed & love to be the centre of attraction even hogging a conversation to feel important, little realising how big a bore I turn out to be. I do try to be a funny guy but more often than not, I end up with comments that just show that I’m tyring too hard.
For that matter, even my self-analyses have a motive, a hidden agenda. The truth aims to absolve me of my error in ways by acting out a confessional. So, the solution would be to improve myself & I’m not sure if I’m doing that job.
I have a high opinion of myself but most of it is unjustified, my own idea of me is like looking at the mirror and my eyes focussing on my taut stomach and my shapely (though spindly) arms, conveniently forgetting how in the complete picture I’m an average looking weedy little runt. Fortunately, my brain leaves a nagging doubt to reassure my vanity and try to convince me of my worth.
That in a nutshell, is me!
