A confession

I lie to be saved.
I exaggerate to be fitted.
I flatter to be liked.
I try to be confident.

If I do not like you,
Then step out of my way;
But if I desire you,
Then welcome to my life.

I believe that we are rich
But unsure if we are still.
In a sense, I may be clever
But I act as if I do not care.

I am satisfied on my image
But I curse my height and age;
I am envious to the famous
For I aspire to be one of those.

I boast on what I have
And pretend that I have.
I admit! I am a feeler
-A total social climber.

By choice, I am fake
Because scared to be unwanted.
I often smile,
But uncertain if it is for real.

Do not you ever hurt me,
For I hold enmity.
Do please adore and notice me,
For I value amity.

I am swanking that I am mean, I tell you
-But what else can I do?
This is who I am,
And I am mold the way I am precisely.

I have not yet transformed,
But still changing.
Genuinely trying,
Not at all falsifying.

I am uttering this not to be hated,
But actually to be acceptably interpreted.