I’m used to being adored by everyone, to being treated special, and to be on the top of their list. It’s nothing new to me, in fact ever since I was a child I always have been liked and wanted. And every single time I felt it, I always loved it. I loved the fame, respect and power that come along with the adoration they have for me. It was pleasing, satisfying, and fulfilling. It’s where my ego was rooted.

I am rather confident, a bit conceited yet still maintaining my modesty, about everything that I am and everything I have. I could easily sway anyone I want and everyone would instantly be fawning over me. That’s how it has always been. That’s how it works. That’s how it was supposed to works that is until she showed up in my dorm.

“I still can’t believe I’m not her type?!” I said in disbelief, partly annoyed by the idea.

“We’re still on that subject?” she sighed as she rolled her eyes.

“YES!!” I exclaimed quickly. “Everyone loves me. They adore me. She should adore me!” I restated the obvious fact.

“Why bother? You don’t even like her”

“But she has to adore me! That’s how it should be.”

“Maybe she didn’t see something she liked in you...” she muse rather the impossible idea.

I quickly looked at her and glared before bursting out drastically, “Is she blind?! What could she possibly like that she doesn’t see in me?!”

She gulped and raised both of her hands in defence, “Hey, don’t release your frustrat