Because 13 is an unlucky number Sometimes I can't help but cringe when I see myself in the mirror. Ironic, isn't it, since all (3) of the pictures you see on this single page depict me somehow. I guess, being slightly Obsessive-Compulsive (but face it - who isn't?), I get caught up in details. Chapped lips for instance. Or a zit on my forehead. I hate chapped lips and I also hate pimples. Which is strange because I barely notice them on other people. Maybe I never notice girls with pimples or chapped lips because they wear so much make up. They look fake. Holly W. for instance...Her face looks sometimes like it might fall off. There were some girls on the swim team whose make up was so caked on it was flaky and it looked like if they moved their head wrong, or smiled, their faces would crack into gabillions of itsy bitsy pieces. It's strange. Like if you're going to wear make up to look natural, why bother wearing any? I've gone 16 years without ever applying base to my face and I really don't think I need to. Because as much as I hate the details of my face, sometimes the overall thing is beautiful. Although beauty is slightly overrated. Mean people are so much funnier. Ugly people are sometimes so much smarter. Brains and wit matter much more than outer "beauty," especially the fake kind that comes prepackaged in a bottle or compact case. The kind that looks more like a weapon than something you wear on your skin. Why do girls insist on dressing their faces up like this? Boys can go around with naked faces. My point is. Wait. I lost it, But I just thought you should know. It's raining outside, by the way. This rain is beautiful even if it ruins so many plans and faces and hair styles. This rain is beautiful because it ruins so many plans and faces and hair styles. My new favorite word is Angry