I'm convinced that some people are just born beautiful. God must have known that there would be something trying and bad in their lives and so, to make up for it, he made them beautiful. I can't help but to look around a room and think about certain qualities of a particular individual that make them so appealing to the eye. And, of course the next thought to follow is, what do I have? Why can't I be like that? I've spent hours before mirrors, covering up and examining, adjusting and trying to fix, and, well, nothing seems to help at all. I've stopped looking in mirrors. I don't like what I see anymore and photographs are worse. It feels like everyone around me is just becoming more and more good looking and I feel like I'm getting worse and worse...or nowhere, as hard as I might try. I can't help being down on myself. I can't stop being hard on myself. I don't feel right, physically and emotionally. I feel like I've been a horrible girlfriend lately and I keep catching bits and pieces of my old self seeping through the surfaces, which makes me realize how much I hate my old self. My dark, quiet, unattractive and unsocial self. I look around me and see so many incredibly talented people, showing off and building on their talents all the time, day after day. And I...I don't know what I'm doing. "English". Yeah, sure, how far have I gotten? Ask me where Sin is. Go on, ask me what progress I've made on that novel. I'll tell you--none. A million ideas and no words to materialize them. A thousand directions and no clear road. A hundred pages to go and no time to write them. No time? Is that really my sorry excuse these days? Why is it the person next to me always gets the A, and I'm stuck with a lousy old B? Why does she always look so damned beautiful, and I always feel so damned miserable? What's so different now than how things were six months ago? Why do I feel so completely in love, and yet so entirely alone? Why is it all of a sudden so hard to smile and so easy to cry? And to sum it all up in a breath, why am I torturing myself like this? Of course I don't expect an answer. I'm used to sending things out without returns. The ironic thing is though, I've now realized that I'm a dependent who thinks she's INdependent. So that's that. Off to study for a quiz I know I'll fail, to do push-ups I know I'll fall from, to do crunches I know I'll cry after, to sleep where I know I'll dream. .Just Your Average Teen.