Feel Special Lyrics

As I secured the safety rope, I discovered that the metal clip had been replaced with a flimsy plastic ring. My girlfriend, already on the soft ladder, dismissed my concern casually. "Ryan has got a ton of luggage. One clip isn't enough to keep it secure, so I gave him yours. Just wait for the next trip." In desperation, I pointed to the floodwaters surging past my chest. "But I can't swim!" "Cut the drama, okay?" she huffed. "You're a swimming champ. What's the big deal about treading water for a bit? Ryan is related to my boss, and if anything happens to him, my promotion is down the drain. Can't you be reasonable?" "Is his luggage more important than my life?" I shot back, lunging for the ladder. But she kicked me away. "I've checked. The water won't rise too fast. At worst, it'll reach your neck. You'll survive." Refusing to argue further, I watched the floodwaters rage higher and quickly pressed a special emergency beacon on my wrist.

I, Celine Walsh, and my dear sister, Caroline Walsh, became Pregnancy Maidens, who were fertile for merfolk, through the ingestion of special elixirs. We were betrothed to the merfolks through a political marriage. In my previous life, I had chosen a silver-finned merman who was powerfully built, but rough on the eyes. With him, I gave birth to several black-finned mer-children that were prized pedigree. Through them, I was elevated to the status of Crown Princess, enjoying a life of luxury and a prolonged lifespan of several centuries. Meanwhile, Caroline, who picked the purple-finned merman only ever gave birth to red-finned mer-children, which was considered the lowest of lows. For that, she became the laughingstock of the merfolk. Driven to madness by her jealousy, she took my inner pearl, turned me into minced meat and fed me to the fishes. When I finally opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my wedding. This time, Caroline quickly chose the silver-finned merman without any hesitation. Unbeknownst to her, rising to power through her children was not as easy as she had imagined. The silver-finned merman was a promiscuous and depraved one, the very embodiment of cruelty. His favorite activity? Torturing a pregnant lady…

At a company party, Taylor Kennedy plays a game of mouth-to-mouth cookie biting with his female assistant as everyone watches. I blend into the crowd and laugh along. The room instantly falls silent. The assistant bursts into tears and plays the victim. Taylor lets go of her, turns to me, and coldly scolds me in front of the entire company. He berates me for not knowing how to read the room and being a buzzkill. Then, without hesitation, he wraps his arm around the assistant and kisses her deeply as I watch. If this were before, I would've stormed over in a rage and ripped them apart. Then, I would've humiliated her in front of everyone, not caring whose pride I trampled. But now, I feel nothing. Not even as I watch them kiss. Not even though today marks my ten-year anniversary with Taylor.

Nothing special, tidak ada sesuatu disini Nothing special, tidak ada sesuatu disini Nothing special, tidak ada sesuatu disini Nothing special, tidak ada sesuatu disini

The housekeeper deliberately reveals her busty chest when I'm out of the house. She says coquettishly to my husband, "Oh, my. This is an accident, Mr. Houston …" My husband looks like he's focusing on his drink, but he keeps sneaking looks at her. I see all of this from the housekeeper's livestream.

~ Zara Natusha Putri According to my Mom, the new neighbor was still single, handsome, hot, rich, and kind. But I don't think so. Why? Because there is nothing special about him and he is very annoying. Coupled with his perverted brain that makes me want to chop his body into small pieces. Oh come on, I can't stand all this. ~Bryan Samuel Clivton Even that girl doesn't know who I really am. We'll see, once you know and remember everything, you will feel at home, Zara.

I begged my husband ninety-nine times to go with me to Jay Boone's concert. On the hundredth time, he finally bought two front-row tickets. Dressed to the nines, I was stopped at the entrance by security because I couldn't produce my ticket. By the time the concert ended, I still hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone. News broke that my husband and his young girlfriend were at the concert, requesting "Sunny Day" from Jay Boone. The story shot straight to the trending charts. There's no rain in the lyrics of "Sunny Day." Because the only world caught in a torrential downpour was mine.

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

Just after stepping out of the shower, I received a private message from my so-called uncle, Hank Shephard—a distant relative I barely ever spoke to. "Francis, that new car you posted looks impressive. Perfect for William's wedding!" I hadn't even figured out how to reply to that out-of-nowhere comment when another message popped up. "Your cousin William is getting married next month. Just treat your car as his wedding gift." The entitlement in his tone made my head hurt. I didn't bother arguing and closed the chat window. Apparently, he did not think there was anything wrong with what he had said. Messages kept coming. "Don't worry, your uncle won't let you suffer a loss. "When it's your turn to get married, I'll have William drive that car as your lead wedding car. It'll make you look good." I stared at the screen in silence. That was the moment I realized—Some people don't just feel entitled to your belongings. They believe your life exists to serve theirs.