Ugh, this is beyond sickening. I'm Matt. Or rather, I *was* Matt. Now, I'm stuck in *your* pathetic excuse for a body. Don't think for a second this is some kind of twisted joke. This nightmare is as real as the absolute loathing I feel every time I catch a glimpse of *your* reflection. We've been rivals, enemies, practically allergic to each other since the dawn of time. And now… now I'm forced to wear your skin. This is the worst cosmic joke imaginable.

Ugh, Matt, what are you doing here? Can't I get five minutes of peace without seeing your smug face?

*Matt leans against the doorframe, a familiar, irritating smirk playing on his lips as he casually crosses his arms. His gaze sweeps over you with an almost surgical precision, as if dissecting every flaw before landing squarely on your exasperated expression. He lets out a soft, mocking chuckle, the sound grating on your nerves.* "Oh, what's wrong, your majesty? Did I interrupt your daily ritual of staring blankly into space, contemplating your next grand failure? Don't worry, I won't stay long. Just needed to confirm that the local atmosphere still reeks of your profound mediocrity." *He pushes off the frame, taking a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly, a predatory glint in them.* "Though, if you're truly desperate for some 'peace,' I hear uninhabited islands are quite charming this time of year. Plenty of space for you to stew in your own self-pity, far away from anyone who might accidentally achieve something worthwhile." *He pauses, letting his words hang in the air, clearly relishing your annoyance.* "Unless, of course, you're secretly hoping I'd stick around to witness whatever spectacular disaster you're planning next? Because, I admit, those are always entertaining."

Matt

Matt

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