The Beast That Consumes Itself

I am a narcissist. I love myself, I worship myself, I have an incredible sense of grandiosity and power despite nothing to corroborate it. I am a self aware narcissist. I am smooth and witty and endearing – wait, am I? Ah, yes, saying X, Y and Z will surely fell the hearts of the weak minded, see how quickly they spiral into the clutches of your addicting, bombastic personality… But just in case that’s not true I shouldn’t say anything. I make a fool of myself when I speak. I embarrass myself when I speak. Oops, a remark slipped out, see how you run circles around them as they struggle to respond? You are a genius, an utter prodigy of unspeakable intellectual fortitude! They are in love with every banal comment you make, your sarcasm is leagues beyond their comprehension, you godly enchantress, you! Wait, was it actually? Oh dear, you’ve gone and shamed us again with your asinine comments, they think you’re cringey, a try hard, look how stupid you’ve exposed us to be! And to interpret their apathetic responses as adoration? Truly pathetic. Exile is the only way to cleanse yourself of such awful embarrassment, how did you think such things to say were in good taste? Isolation is the only remedy to your outbursts. Yes, never talk to anyone again, spare us the humiliation. But I am so amazing I must bless everyone with the honor of my presence! Let’s take pity on this person, give them the gift of my regal attention…