Disappointment, imperfection, facing failure. Nobody likes it. I know I don’t. Failing time and time again. It’s a common way to create self-destructive habits, but it can also be a way to motivate yourself. For all of us who most fear the big F word (failing), perfection has grown to become our companion that never leaves our side.

This is what I have realized: from my success comes my failure. From my failure come my lessons. That’s just how it works. It’s a process.

As I’ve grown up, I’ve noticed my obsession with the idea of perfection, the idea of not doing anything wrong, portraying myself in a way where everything I do seems perfect, and completely removing the word “problem” from my vocabulary. I tried to excel in everything I did and made it seem like it came easy to me. …

Addiction. A word that usually has a bad connotation. Studies have shown that people who drink about one cup of coffee per day (90% of the American population) have a higher chance of creating a dependency to caffeine. Maybe I have gone crazy enough during this quarantine that addiction doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore. It helps me keep my mind occupied with ongoing thoughts. “Todo en exceso es malo.” My dad’s words bounce around in my head as I say this, and it makes me think that I’m genuinely wrong, “Too much of anything is harmful.”

I consider myself a person that can get addicted to things quickly. When I have so much time and so little to do, it becomes easier. I get addicted to good TV shows that keep me from moving from the couch for the whole day. Clicking “Watch the next episode” seems to be an automatic response. I get addicted to the smell and taste of fresh coffee in the morning; the thing that most excites me about waking up. I convince myself that tomorrow I won’t have any, but I tend to contradict myself a lot, that’s never what really happens. I get addicted to eating cheese over and over again, every day, even though that is part of why I’m currently lactose intolerant. …

It has been a long time since I just sat down to simply think. Our day-to-day is usually packed with so many things. The endless hours of math homework, soccer practice until 5:00 pm, reading the next two chapters of the book we’re reading in Spanish (that I haven’t picked up yet), or helping my mom with some type of technology she doesn’t know how to use.

Have you ever thought about the idea of blocking all sound around you? Of shutting off your sense of hearing and just looking at your surroundings. For many people (including me), at first, it sounded scary. …

When I was little, my family would have many traditions. Every Sunday I would go to Papapa’s and Mamama’s house, all the family would have lunch there. Two grandparents, nine siblings, 25 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren. Big family right?

I remember Mamama would make us her cake every Sunday. We all wanted to know the recipe, but it was hers and hers only. The delicious vanilla flavored cake that we devoured within five minutes. I remember Bichin. The dog that was there ready to eat the crumbs that would fall off our plates, whenever my cousins weren’t giving him big slices of cake under the table. …

There are only a few days left until you come to an end. It feels like you passed by so quickly. Suddenly, I’m back to celebrating a year full of memories. I will not say you were easy, but you were not bad. You did good. You taught me well. Ups and downs, I can say. Still, all worth it. I have grown as a person, I have learned new things about myself, got to go through amazing experiences, and met incredible people through the journey. It feels like only yesterday I was under the Christmas tree with warm hot chocolate in my hands. All my cousins and I in matching pajamas opening presents while looking at the big window where I could see the whole park filled with white snow. A white Christmas. …

I wake up at 6:00 am to the sound of my ringing alarm, urging me to get out of bed on a Monday morning. My bedsheets are half on the floor and half-covering my body. I can hear my alarm subconsciously, but I try to ignore it at the same time. I don’t want to wake up. I am tired. I feel like everything is going slowly. I get to school and try to avoid the clock that is suddenly moving faster than before. It’s 7:45, period one, bell rings. I think about the amount of time that still has to pass for the day to end. The thought of it exhausts me. First period goes by so slowly, and I count the minutes for 9:30 to hit the big blue circled clock next to my teacher’s desk. The bell rings. I walk to my dirty locker that is filled with my two other friend’s bags, and I know I have 15 minutes; still, it always feels like 5 minutes. …

“Venezolana quítate de aca.”

“Venezuelan get out of the way.”

“Vete a tu pais.”

“Go back to your country.”

“No te mereces este trabajo.”

“You don’t deserve this job.”

“Son unos delincuentes.”

“You are all criminals.”

Can you imagine witnessing the place that you call home slowly falling into a state of complete chaos? Imagine going somewhere new where everything seems extremely strange to you, somewhere entirely different than what you’re used to. But you have to. You have to because if you don’t leave, you may die of hunger, or your children will not receive a proper education. You have no choice but to leave everything behind and try to start from scratch. But you can’t, can you? You get to the place you want to call your new home, and a stranger, someone you have never seen, met, or done anything wrong to, blurts out a discriminatory vulgar comment at you just because of the place you come from. …

Nostalgia. Remembering that exact feeling in that exact day, remembering your exact words and the exact response of others, remembering the littlest details that make you laugh randomly when you’re sitting at the dinner table with your family, while they look at you so confused and ask “What happened?”

Nostalgia. Remembering memories of days that changed your life or remembering people that you miss and texting them seconds later to see how they’re doing. Remembering the happiest moments but also the moments when you were crying, knowing those were the hardest days to pick yourself up and continue on.

I always see myself feeling this way. I see myself late at night when I’m tucked in ready to sleep on my phone, scrolling down my camera roll. I smile and laugh. I send all those videos to my friends so they can feel the same way as I do and going to sleep with a smile on my face. Nostalgia. …