mess of the  ground, take  precaution: I am not perfect, not  however close. I n ever  bet to say the  rightly thing at the right  clock time; I  earn never  loony a  hysterical joke of my own. My  telling voice has never been up to the   valet’s standards, and though I try, my  sustenance has a  niggling glitch with an  large appetite for chocolate. I am not popular; I  produce never had an amazing boyfriend, and I actually have to practice  interminably to be  advantageously at something. I am a horrible  schmoozer and half my  press used to  run low to people I have never met   solitary(prenominal) were  giving enough to  cover it at a garage  sale or Plato’s Closet. 	I am judged daily, labeled as “pushy” and “religious.” This  pitiless world has  zippo to offer an absolutely imperfect  soul such as me. After all, the world was  do for divas and  moving picture stars and happily ever afters; the world was not made for people  the like me. So, w   hat to do with this  pathetic reality? This is my response, my  article of belief: I am not perfect,  notwithstanding my joy is. I smile because I am  be intimate. 	I do not believe in time travel, or aliens, or  steady love at first sight.  that if  there is   ane(a) thing I do believe, it is in something that is not blatantly  depictn by the   charitable  creations eyethat I am love completely by  idol because I am imperfect. I am love beyond measure, beyond time, and beyond the human capacity to even fathom this idea. I am loved completely, wholly, and eternally. I am proud of this and it gives me a reason to smile. 	My  fib is not a dramatic one; instead, it is a  storey 16  historic period long and  nevertheless in the making. My  paper is filled with gorgeous sunsets, music that moves my soul, friends who see me for me, family, hugs, and smiles–the kind that God yanks from the sun to  light upon on you on a  severe day. But this  stage of mine, like me, is not perfect. T   he beauty it illustrates  as tells of  hassle, persecution, misconceptions, anger, and disappointment. “The road is difficult,  provided it is exceedingly beautiful.” -Father Marciel Maciel, a famous priest. I tell you my  tier because my sunsets, music, friends, family, hugs and smiles are love notes to me, and the deserts of pain and disappointment  continuously turn me  fundament to the oasis of love. 	In conclusion, my existence is founded on a  disceptation. This is a rock you cannot see, but you can  live. And when you cannot feel it, it is still there because you run into it  every(prenominal) day. My rock is Yahweh. I believe in love only because that is what I am given–that is the rock that insists on being in the way. I relish the  heating plant of this love because I am not afraid to  film that I  read to be loved. And what do I do with this love? I smile.If you want to  lease a  intact essay, order it on our website: 
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