Cerita Kisah Hidupku Novels & Stories

If I want to at least live this life albeit live it in agony I must stay silent. What I know is for me to know alone. A freak is what I am. Nobody needs to know that. My name is Emeka and this is my story. The story of my childhood, the story of how I blossomed into the freak I am. My coming of age and my discovery story. I will walk you step by step through my journey and how I realized that my life was doomed to be nothing but a big pile of misery and pain. AUTHOR'S NOTE: All non-English words would be written in italic so when you see words written in italic just know that the characters are speaking in their native language.

So many things have happened in my life with lots of ups and downs and coming across those hard times was brutal for me. Looking back at old times and memories now I feel so proud of myself and of what I have become today. It is that of my dark past that I have become so successful and achieved so much in my life. Life is claimed to give you your biggest lesson, and that is exactly what happened to me; life taught me my greatest lesson and showed me the harsh reality of so-called "Life." Real-life is not like a fairytale story; real life is full of thorns, pains, suffering, and struggle, and my life was no fairytale either; it was a brutal and bitter reality that crushed me under the weight

Not only spoiling fawaz but many kids too, she loves children. She thought maybe when she is nice to them she will get her own bundle of joy running around the house. She served herself and Khadija in the same plate, sipping the cold drink. She thought about her mother. She missed her so much, her mother died due to anaemia and since then nafisa has been researching on the disease . "Hey, you seem out"Khadija said acknowledging her cousin's mood. Nafisa shrugged it off with a nothing which came out barely as a whisper. They ate the food in silence.

I am 24 years-old. I have been writing books since I was 13 years-old. I have wrote 6 books total, but lost 5 to a house fire, and did not have backups. I lost my want to write after losing my first 5 books. It has been 8 years since then. This is my first book I have published. I am a mother of 1 daughter, trying for a second child. I want to make a living as a author, but also become a daycare teacher. I have a cp in earily childcare. My passion is my child. I love and live for my family. They matter more then anything.

My heart is beating very wildly as he is sitting very close to me now. "You go first!" I whispered. "Okay." "I sing so well. I play the guitar. I have never been in love." "Which one is the lie?" "you play the guitar." "Aww. You are wrong." "Ohh. So which one is the lie?" "I have never been in love." He said. "I have actually been in love. It ended in tears sha. Hot, premium tears." He added. I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you mind talking about it? I'm sorry for laughing though."

Hello there! I see you are back for more of my confessions, it’s good to have you back. I ain’t got much to say so let’s get on with this My apologies! Before we start I gotta inform you the tale you are about to witness isn’t my experience so I will tell it as I heard it without omitting or adding anything, hope you enjoy it Life is a crazy son of a bitch you know? One moment you are living a badass life with zero care to the world and the next you are all over a mortal cause of how good the sex was. But damn it the sex was fire—only if I could have it one last time

I nearly killed a man because my wife kept secrets from me. This seems to be the story of my life. We are all living stories. And let's face it — every really good story is far from flat. Everybody loves a juicy tragedy. A frightful thriller. Until, of course, it's their tragedy or their fright. But that's a damn shame because who knows? All of my scary and tragic shit could be prepping me to tell one helluva good story. That's why I belong here. Right here, wherever I am. No, I know. Life sucks, and the shit I am going through is terrible. I'm not denying any of that.

,sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} Calily I never knew my surname. Orphaned at the age of 3, I never got to know my real parents. If there was anything I learnt the hard way, it would be that, ‘life is what you made of it’. I lived as a vulnerable kid while growing up. Moving from foster homes to foster homes, I was never settled. But, I have my story. They say, dead men tell no tales. But I, alive must speak cause this is a privilege since I’m still alive.

“I told you, I won’t force you.” “But we must, I mean we can’t fake the-” “We’ll mark each other. It'll be enough to sustain our story. I know how you feel about it, but the mark will fade away eventually. We'll renew it once in a while.” By the end of this talk, he was only in his underwear. A small whimper escaped my mouth causing me to slap a hand over it. His laugh filled the room. Despite the turmoil of emotions that were ravaging my mind, I couldn’t deny the fact that his body was nothing less than perfect.

Eric just smiled sadly and left, living a carefree life. For two years he was outside working for a living running this and that. He works in a small company, the salary is enough to live, in addition, he is also a good doctor, but he can't work for long because other people insult him. Eric also has no will to live, so he doesn't care if he earns a lot of money or not. Everything he endured was enough to make him feel like he wanted to die. He stood on the mountain, his eyes drifting away, absently touching the ring on his hand that was given to him by his grandmother before she died. Only she was the one who loved him, accepted him, but she left too soon for him to return.