I am scared of downward slopes. Yes, even the one in front of the building I grew up in and am currently living in.

I speed read. No, I'm not staring out of the windows because I don't like the article, I'm waiting for you to be done and turn the damn page.

I find most gossip boring. I couldn't care less about who is sleeping with whom.

I have the hardest time accepting it when I am mistaken. I'll own up to it, but then I will spend days beating myself up over it. Especially if it's something particularly mundane.

My body tends to be dysfunctional in small, annoying, sometimes mysterious ways.

I hate speaking on the phone unless it's with someone I know well. Often I just don't pick up, which is a rather spineless avoidance technique.

Do these things make me different? Somewhat. Each of them makes me different from the majority of the people I encounter on a daily basis. I'll go and venture that none is unique to me.

These things don't make me beautiful. They make me who I am, and that's good enough. The way I see it, I'm beautiful to those who love me, charming or odious to a handful of people, and unremarkable to most of humankind. Unless you go with the "everyone is beautiful" line of thought, in which case I'm beautiful because I'm a human being and not for of any of my quirks.