When I was a little girl, I used to love pink flamingos. They maintained an unusual one-legged stance, but strut with poise and grace. They weren’t the prettiest birds, but their distinct pink shade made them stand out amongst the rest. They had quirks, which made me overlook their awkwardness; Instead of gawking at them, I was fascinated by them.
Now fast forward several years down the line.
Most days, I feel like a pink flamingo.
But I find comfort in knowing that there are people who find my awkward characteristics endearing; they see beauty within me that I am blind to. And because of this, I am willing to open the gate and let them enter my cage.