Life Is Messy Book Novels & Stories

I flipped through the pages and I found it; "Life did not go as expected. Still finding the importance as to why I should live." "Great, I will the starting real school this session. Cheers to more pain." "I just live, not because I have a reason. But because death seems so far." Tears slpiued down my face. I could feel there pains behind those words. My life is messy too. The door suddenly opened. It was Kingsley's mother. I hurriedly closed the book and wiped my tears.

"Ian, I was wrong. I'll admit to the mistake. Please let me out. I can't breathe in here. "Ian, please let me out. I'm suffocating. I could hardly breathe in here. "Ian…" While reading those unsent messages, Ian felt his vision turn black. He plopped down on the floor.

Riley said. "Me too." "Even the messy parts?" "Especially the messy parts. The messy parts mean we're living fully. Not hiding, not running, not playing it safe." "When did you become so wise?" "I've always been wise. You just didn't notice because you were distracted by how attractive I am." Riley laughed and elbowed him. "You're ridiculous." "You love it." "I really do." And she did. She loved all of it. The ridiculous moments and the serious ones. The chaos and the calm. The struggles and the triumphs.

It is better to prevent that fr happening. Since I am the only one left in the house, I just read some books from the library. Yeah, you heard that right. Library. Miss Fatima is a bibliophile. My dad wants her to be happy so dad built a libraru inside this house. Miss Fatima said that they bought over a thousand books. "Hmm. What will I read?" I asked myself. At last, I get The Great Gatsby. I remember, when I was still a child, Rhea forces me to read this book instead of reading children's book. She said the children's book are just for brainless who will not succeed in life.

"The first time you realize how easy it is for life to be snuffed out, it's hard." My head cocked to the side, I throw another question at him. "Are you insinuating eventually it won't be hard?" "All I'm saying is at some point you realize this is the way life is. It's messy, it's painful, and it's unexpected. We fall in love when we don't mean to, we lose college contracts when it looks like our lives are perfect, and we witness the cycle of life into death, Cutter. It's just the way things are."

And for the first time in my life, I was certain of one unshakable truth: this — this perfect, messy, wonderful life — was exactly where I was supposed to be. THE END.

Him being kind and ridiculous and stubborn all at once. And just like that , I didn’t want anything more. Not sex, not perfection, not a life without cramps just him, just this. Even if it was messy, chaotic, burned, dry, ridiculous, and entirely unpolished. Somehow, beneath all the surface disasters, it was… enough.

The author came up with the idea and I agree with her. ‘But we aren’t a revenge story!’ Sikandar retorted as he felt the world around him becoming hazy, ‘We are something else now. We are a messy story about living every day to the fullest. Why are you listening to the author? You decide how the story goes!’ And I have decided it should go in the direction that the author wants. ‘No one will like it! You will anger those few readers who bother reading this stuff.’

“I’m questioning a lot of my life choices right now.” She snorted, hiding her laughter behind a napkin. “It’s okay to be human and messy sometimes.” “Messy, I can handle it. It’s the human part that’s throwing me.” “Oh, come on. You can’t be serious.” “No, I mean, I really like order. It helps me stay sane.” I finished my sandwich, leaned back, and closed my eyes for a moment. “I don't think there's anything wrong with that, as long as it doesn't take over your life.”

Vera’s body has met a consequence I will not mock and will not carry as my trophy. The fog has less capacity. The law has more teeth in the correct direction. And I—against every old prophecy of ruin— am carrying a life inside a life, with a man who asks, with parents who do not own, with friends who map medical appointments beside exam blocks, with work that still has my name on it in clean metadata. Chapter one hundred fourteen will close a book. This chapter turns the page with both hands. Still not over. Still happy in the serious sense. Still exact,