We get more beautiful as we get older. We mature from kids whose faces are not quite proportional, perhaps teeth are too big, a smile too broad, eyes too large, and faces still round. This change occurs for two reasons, partly nature and the rest nurture. We have to become beautiful. We have to be appealing because somehow people cease noticing personality. They sure as hell will notice if your mascara is applied properly though. First and foremost, they will judge you. How cruel a practice and right of passage that is. We've all, shamefully so, done it at one point or another.
Suppose I knew who I was. Knew what I looked like. Suppose I knew the truth. All the hundreds of them all different yet all the truth. Think of it. The only time when two opposite statements can be true at the same time. They are called opinions, floating amidst the minds of everyone. Forming their image on, that's right, y-o-u.
Happy New Year.
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