If everything in my life fails, I have a plan B. No, I don’t mean the abortion pill, but an actual plan. I’m going to try to succeed as a makeup artist. The thing about makeup is that anyone can do it on someone that’s pretty. But to do it on someone who has a skin condition, or a flaw that needs to be covered up, is a completely different thing. Under the influence of a few videos that I’ve seen today, I’ve got to say that I don’t look at the way of doing makeup popular on Instagram the same way any longer. Sure, those makeup artists’ work is always flawless, but it seems as though girls tend to lean more and more towards the drag look, which is, essentially, strong contour, a good amount of foundation, bold eyeliner, over-lined lips, glitter, or even eyebrows that are entirely drawn on. Sure, it looks perfect on a night out, and it photographs really well, but the routine is too rigorous to repeat on a daily basis.

I don’t even know why I mentioned this, I guess I just liked the way the makeup artists in those videos made their models look flawless effortlessly.

Yesterday I watched The Godfather. I’m in love with Apollonia. I have a lot of studying to do in the next few weeks. I don’t even know why I write anymore. It doesn’t seem to help a great deal, and, besides, I don’t think anyone is reading this. The thing is that I don’t know what to write about. There’s nothing to write about, and at the same time there’s everything to write about. I don’t want to stop writing, I just want to stop feeling nothing. Overall I feel confused and tired. But not confused enough to be curious, nor tired enough to need rest.

Tomorrow my dad turns 49. My heart breaks at the thought. 

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