6:30 a.m. Her tired face looks into the mirror. Eyes burns in disgust. The black sags under my eyes. Her lips dry and cracked. She see sparwled magazines on the floor. Pictures of perfect models. Skinny and beautiful,smooth skin with bright-lit eyes. And gorgeous lips lathered with pink gloss. Envy firing inside me. 'Why cant I be pretty?" she questions herslef with pity. Boxes of M.A.C make-up promisisng a beautiful face boys with drool over.Pitch black mascara coating my lashes. Face powder covering up my pores to make my skin look smooth. Eyeshadow making the brin beautys highlighted. Maybe...maybe this is the only reason im called 'pretty'.Lies!