Sometimes, we look at our imperfections as the worst of the worst, our downfalls as our ultimate ends, our cellulite or "skin flabs" as our most disgraceful attributes, our weirdness as our excuse to not get out there. Yet, have we stopped to think that maybe in these things, there is a beauty. I am talking about something that is close and personal to me. I prayed for perfection; many times and I know this may sound repeated yet, it's something that has come up amongst conversations.

I push myself until I am mentally exhausted to make that paper, painting, article ... anything -- perfect; or at least, what I believe is close to perfect.Yet, with so much pushing, have I been happy? I spent years believing that to be beautiful; you had to have a slender frame with straight hair. This thinking caused me to submit to "alisados" (hair straighteners) and to starve in unhealthy ways. This same thinking froze me for years and at points, it affects me today. I sometimes have panic attacks and have to take deep breaths to relax, because of this ideology. Because of this longing for perfection, I pushed away those close to me, because I believed that to fit into the "cool" group, you had to be "cool"; but what does that really mean? Some of my best friendships, I have had and have today are the ones consisting of the weird kids. The misfits -- amoung them, I feel like myself. Our quirks are our own; and in that there is a certain beauty.

Your own search for perfection, should not turn into your ultimate burden. By that I mean, don't let your vision of perfection blur your path ahead. Remember, there is a clear distinction between wanting to be better and to work in yourself; than to oppress yourself from everything in order to reach social perfection. We are imperfect and In our imperfections, there are certain stories that distinct us. Meaning, we all carry distinctions that make each of us beautiful in our own way.

For many years, I believed in the cookie-cutter image of fatherhood. A dad building bird houses with their son or daughter, prancing in the green grass bordered by a white picket fence with an all-American house -- a Levittown feeling. This image blurred my relationship with my dad and I now, resent that. I have learned that God granted us with our parents for certain reasons, and I know that they are not perfect and they may sometimes disappoint us; yet, in the end, they were the ones who were there since day one. For those, whom maybe did not have a mom or a dad, you had someone who filled in that role for you and was there to care for you. Sometimes, we push away because we believe we know better; or can do much than they could, yet personally for myself I know I could not have done anything without God or my family.

All in all, like the song, goes, "darling, just hold on". I think life is too precious to pray for perfection in all aspects. Too precious to not get out of our comfort zones to make a difference. Too precious to lock ourselves in and not allow love to enter. Too precious to believe that we are not beautiful because remember, we were created in the perfect image. Our flaws are beautiful. If we were all born perfect and lived a perfect life, would we realize our hunger for His love? Would we realize that maybe there are certain things that have to be worked for in order to really appreciate them? Would we be more empathetic, caring, loving towards others; if everyone was already content? What I mean is, If we lived in that world maybe, just maybe, we would be more like walking mimes.

In the end, don't be afraid to be different; get out of your routine, dance to the rhythm of your own drum, let that hair out, go on that date, be your own boss, be outspoken, go to that party, dress yourself up or down, take that internship, etc. Let's be fearless and strong, and powerful and happy; because in the end; whether you like it or not, there is beauty in the imperfections. A certain strange, weird and amazing beauty.