Little Imperfections Novels & Stories

He smiled until his dimple formed. Udin looked back and found Tukijo daydreaming. He threw an English dictionary measuring 5×8 cm with a thickness of 2 inches towards Tukijo. However, Tukijo had strong instincts. He immediately caught the dictionary with his hands. "Caught. Bleeeee," teased Tukijo sticking out his tongue. "I'll keep this dictionary, how does it feel to follow English lessons without a dictionary?" Tukijo's behavior made Udin annoyed. "Return!" Udin was standing on Markonah's table preparing to ambush Tukijo.

"You are not becoming like me, you are better than me." Palming his cheeks before he can bury his face between my swells, I say, "Not really. I think we are both flawed. Imperfect but perfect in our imperfections." Thrusting my hips, I splay my fingers on his chest, slide my arms around his neck. "Stop punishing me."

"Even his body isn’t perfect. Filled with scars and wounds." His words were gentle. Too gentle. I gulped as my gaze fixed on my knees, the fabric of my pants blurred beneath the weight of my thoughts. It’s okay. It’s okay. "Being perfect doesn’t mean it has to be flawless. Perfection is a shattered mirror—broken in places, but still reflecting a flawless image if you know where to stand." I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "So, please don’t talk like this about Ace," I added, my voice quieter, my stare still locked onto my trembling knees.

Her voice was light and playful because it had to be. Ethan laughed, leaving a kiss on her temple. "Of course, love. You just need more sleep." But sleep wasn't the problem. Reality was. The house, the life, the husband-it was all too perfect. And perfection, she was starting to realize, was its kind of prison. --- The scent of freshly ground coffee and toasted bread filled the kitchen, blending with the crisp morning air. Ethan sat at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper as he always did, a portrait of effortless domesticity. A plate of eggs and fruit waited for Lena, prepared exactly as she liked.

“Leo, do you think it’s possible to have a beautiful future while still carrying the weight of the past? To be healed but still imperfect?” He pondered my question for a moment, his gaze fixed on the water's surface. “Absolutely. Healing doesn’t erase our experiences; it simply reshapes them. Our imperfections make us human. It’s how we use them that really matters.” With those words, I felt a flicker of relief. Imperfections weren’t a barrier; they were parts of our journey, stepping stones toward growth, embedding depth into who we had become.

#songs #AdamLambert. - Better than I know myself #TheScript #Army of angels Clara I'm not perfect .I've always said that; perfection isn't perfection unless there are imperfections visible... So we are all imperfectly perfect . There are some moments in life when you feel undeserving of what you have or like a total loser.I've had many of those days and weeks ,when I sometimes feel like I'm not being a good enough mother to my son , or perfect wife to my husband . When you wake up in the morning and wish you could fall back to sleep cause you hate feeling like you are failing at a role you should perfectly fit into cause you've had enough practice, however you still feel like you are always

The questions you wanted to ask, the answers you wanted to give. Tons to show and heaps to know. Always. [If we could do things the way we are supposed to do; Then it would've been all perfect throughout our lives. But it isn't , for a reason… And that is because life is all about the little imperfections and flaws that sum up it's beauty, that makes us more of what we really are… A human.] Now, let me tell you a story.

“Because God is doing it for me. He’s in Malawi, a shell of himself. That’s enough.” “You have made everyone believe you are this perfect man who always kept his hands clean, who’s forgiving. But I see it now. You don’t have clean hands. You just hide the dirt better than anyone else.” “Ok Judith, what now?” Judith paused. “How do you sleep without yourself?” “Like a baby. We are not going to have problems, right?“ “You need help.” He hung up and returned to the altar. Seemah walked down in a bridesmaid dress. Their eyes met and she blushed standing onto the other side.

"And thanks for the compliment." I rolled my eyes at the last sentence. Only he would take an insult as a compliment. "Imperfection is beautiful." I whispered. "If we don't make mistakes, how will we know what is right and what is wrong? Mistakes just bring us one step closer to being more awesome." He snorted. "You stop making mistakes then. You already are pretty darn awesome." I let out a low laugh. "I know right? I am mega awesome." There was a lapse of comfortable silence, until he said "You have changed, a bit." Quickly he added. "In a good way."

Regret: “I’m too old to get started. It’s too late.” Identity: “I’m just a lazy person.” Shame: “I shouldn’t be so lazy.” Do any of these voices sound familiar to you?", asked Aidah by winking. "No, l don't....l want to know what you mean by imperfections into perfect?", asked the Heaven of now with the same curiosity as before. "Stay patient dear...You have a lot of time in life to know about it... l am going...l want to loosen it", said Aidah and prepared to go.