I am the most handsome.

I am the most handsome. Many girls follow me though I already have my one and only. She will be the most pretty. She will be the most lovely. Many guys follow her though she already has her one and only.

I am the most handsome. I look at myself in the mirror and say to myself that I’m even more handsome than Brad Pitt. I pity the other stars because they are not as handsome as me. They have no match for me.

I am the most handsome. I have the face which many adores. It’s clear. It’s perfect. It’s godly. Many have bullet seeds with them but I have none. Many have craters, but I don’t have. Mine is perfect.

I am the most handsome. When I am alone. When I am dreaming. When I am asleep. When I am in my world where I make the rules. Those are the exact opposite of what really is happening. I am not handsome. I am ugly. I have bullet seeds. I have sludge machines. I am not perfect. I am the least in line. I long for something which is impossible for me to have.

I am the most handsome. But, I’m lying.