My Dearest Delusion Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Turns out he’s terrible company.” I get it. God, I get it. My phone buzzes again. I flip it face down on the bar with more force than necessary. “Persistent,” he observes. “Delusional.” “Ah. One of those.” “One of what?” “The ones who don’t realize they’ve already lost.” He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that should feel invasive but doesn’t. “You’re done. He just hasn’t accepted it yet.” “You got all that from a buzzing phone?”

“You just what?” I cut him off. “You just told Linda you were the president of the company? “You just brought her to my villa and told her it was your place? “You just drove my car around, pretending to be some wealthy executive? “Jason, do you know what that’s called? “It’s called fraud.” Jason completely lost his composure. His knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed to the floor. “Miss Silva, I know I was wrong. I just wanted so badly to keep her. I…”

Gosh. My lips formed into a tiny pout as I flipped more of the pages. Memories of the vacation with that certain day when we made these sketches appeared in my head. The mugs are included during that day actually. You wanted a pair of mug for a couple, but for what when the person I should be using the mugs with is not here anymore? Good thing that there is such thing called delusional, eh? Look what I am doing, Deron. Drinking coke with our customized mug as if you are here, drinking and using it with me. A delusional indeed. Sigh. The things I do for you.

It has to be Anastasia. But my obsession with my own delusional thought does not go unnoticed, " You might as well give up Sebastian. You shall, never, and let me say never, see your beloved again. The same chance you see these snowcaps melt that shall be the chance you shall ever see Anastasia again. I have gone far and wide to make sure that this shall happen." "I guess I am not the only one being delusional over here. My dear Elloise, I think you should start to reconsider your position."

she sniffed, her voice grave and thick. Aldrich stopped in his track taking Deliah's words seriously. Now he was looking worried and somewhat scared. I don't know Deliah much but these days I have come to know that she is very determinant. She doesn't care about anyone except herself. She always does what she wants and I am sure if she is saying this then she will not hesitate in taking her life. But why? "Have you gone mad, Del?" Aldrich asked in disbelief. "Yes, I have gone mad" she screamed at the top of her lungs "I can't see you going to someone else"

Guess the love I thought we had was just an illusion of a delusional man. A delusional man that is about to put the phone down in her ear, "Jenna, please, do not hurt me even more than you already have. But can I tell you one fucked up thing? I still love your ass. And I can tell you this, even if it takes me forever, I will get over you." With that, the phone finds its way smack bang right into the trash. I am just a nobody that thought he could get a woman that was never his from the start.

How can I say the words out loud when I don’t allow myself to even think of them? “It’s not that, I am grateful for you being with me. I just can’t shake this feeling of dread that is around me.” I say telling him a fraction of what I am feeling. “Talk to me, please,” he says wanting more. “I don’t know how to come to you and just talk to you about how I feel. I would rather run away.” I say and he looks at me confused. I know I’m not making sense. That’s because I am running away from the truth.

Every colour, race, height, and body type imaginable. “It’s an honour to meet all of you, as both the Delegation and as Yildiz’s sisters,” I say graciously. “So you’re a God and a sanguidae?” asks Deniz. “That’s correct,” I say, taking a sip of my wine. “You’re a God and a sanguidae and you have two names. Are you sure that’s not like, split personality or something?” asks Dilara offhandedly. “They don’t call it that anymore. It’s Dissociative Identity Disorder,” corrects Defne.

I have always feared that something feels terribly wrong not just with the world , but with my self, i am an indisputable loner and a freak, a pedophilic delusionist, but i guess im in hell, and God is directly purnishing me for my sins--since i lose my way to the wall even when i wish to pray. I think joting down all i think happened to me would be the best was to evaluate reality since i am practically always dilutional, uts the best way, whenever i read all the stuff i have been through, i can possibly dictate what the hell is absolute fiction from the truth that is slipping right before my eyes.

I saw one fifty two minutes ago. I don't know what to think. My step-father has committed a lot of atrocities, but none, have haunted me quite like him shamelessly revealing the evidence of his arousal to me. I don't want to think too much about it, but my mind doesn't want to stop manufacturing questions I know I do not want to hear the answers to. If only he'd said a word. Just one word. It is said that the Devil is the master of deceit, that he is most adroit at weaving up illusions of false pleasure and decadence that conceal utter apparition. That is how he traps many souls without them even knowing it.