For as long as I can remember, I have always admired beautiful people. Those who have naturally good looks seem to have life figured out: they could get their dream guy/gal, they always had tons of friends and everything that could potentially go wrong for them never did. Models, movie stars and even Disney characters were all people I threw into this category of being more gorgeous than most could ever hope to be. Everything was just so perfect for them, and I assumed if I looked like them, my life would be like theirs. I have just always wanted people to find me attractive.

Around the time I was in middle school, my self-esteem dropped. With all the pre-teen drama, stress, and just general toughness of the overall situation, me having acne and other girls not having it felt like a punch to the gut. It was around this time I remember trying to avoid any pictures at all costs. If I had to be in a picture, I felt like breaking down and crying because I felt so disgusting, so grotesque, that even I didn't want to look at myself. As my middle school band teacher will attest, I used my hair as a shield to hide my blemishes whenever i was able to get away with doing it. The less I was seen, the better.

School was rough for me, not only on an educational level, but a self-worth level too. Every time I saw someone lucky enough to skip the humiliation of teenage acne, I felt the need to compare myself to them. It wasn't fair -- why did I get acne, and they didn't? Was I being punished for something I had done? During seventh grade was when I had to resort to using makeup to hide my imperfections. Since I was newly exposed to makeup and not very good at the time, I ended up looking orange (which was probably worse than showing my natural face). Yet, I couldn't bear the weight of being considered ugly by anyone.

When I started high school, there were a few changes that helped boost my morale. My friends, the football games I had to go to, and the busy work from school all kept me occupied so I wasn't focused on my face 24/7. However, once sophomore year struck, I spiraled downward. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I had hit a new low. I was sitting on rock bottom. I was so desperate to feel desirable and wanted, I was practically begging for compliments from anyone. Friends, family, strangers -- if someone told me that I was pretty, or even just valuable, that was sufficient. This lead me into some toxic situations. I became distant from my family and friends. I was as obsessed with my looked as any one person could be. thought I was going to die ugly. I just knew I'd never be beautiful.

When I started my junior year, it was similar to my sophomore year; hopeless and alone. My friends were finally able to get me to come out and do more social things, and for that I am forever grateful. My current boyfriend and I found each other, and he reminds me of my worth every day. I started to feel like I was normal, like I wasn't hideous trash that disgraced the Earth. I started to feel kind of cute. As the year bore on, my self-esteem only rose. Naturally, there were bad days where I wanted to hide from the world. But on the whole, the climb was mostly upward.

By the end of the year, I knew I was pretty, in my own unique way. I know I have flaws, and that's OK. My flaws are what make me special. My flaws are what make me, me. It took me a very long time to get comfortable with my body, and I still have a long way to go, but feeling alright with myself every morning is enough for me.