A little too much drama

I sit there and watch her from across the room. She just seems to command it.
She shivers furiously when the wind blows, giving the illusion that its freezing cold when it isnt even close. She smiles. Mysteriously, if i might add.
She walks over. No, she glides over.. almost as if she's being blown over by the wind. I get a clearer view of her, lines under her eyes and a few blemishes that i couldn't see from afar.. and another smile. But this time, its far less mysterious.
Her magic seems to fade as she approaches, and vanishes entirely when she talks. She rambles on about herself for a minute or two, stopping periodically to ask me things about myself that she probably doesnt give even the littlest inkling about. I answer, nonetheless and smile politely here and there. She tells me things about herself, slightly personal things.. that I, perhaps, would have liked to avoid. She always comes off wonderfully though, in her stories. Like one who possesses incalculable wisdom. 
She rarely does anything wrong, it seems.. and so we should 
admire her, worship her, and aspire to be like her. She laughs. Its one of those perfect laughs. Tinkling and delicate, the kind that you can fall in love with. But thats the surface of it. Theres some conceit in it, if you bother to dig deeper.
She dominates me still. Though not like before. Now its forced upon me. I continue to behave appropriately, almost humouring her. I am a little spineless.
But then i ask her, i almost cant help it. 
'Why are you like this? It seems so unnessecary, so adopted. 
You're alot less complicated'- i say, for lack of better words.
She laughs, again. Almost near perfect this time around too. And then she says,
'Its because it makes me seem so much more fascinating.'
'so much more...' I repeat, mumbling under my breath.