Inflation to the point of explosion

I've been told twice that I resembled:

As always, for the sake of quasi-modesty, I respond in the form of self-mockery or pity for Kelly Misa. Oh, but the obnoxious self-glorifying crazy dance that happens in the deepest recesses of my poker face-covered skull is far from being modest. Tell me, who doesn't want to look like a model? Huh? Huh?

Looking at the other possible extreme...Kelly Misa being told that she resembled this random Anna...she'd probably tell herself, "I need to go under the knife."



I did it again.
Self-deprecation.
Just because I'm used to it.
Although deep inside, I really want to BELIEVE it.
I guess I don't.
Maybe these people wanted something from me.
My naivete. My excuse.