Perfection Addiction Novels & Stories

“We sell it. All of it. The public wants a fairy tale, so that’s what we’ll give them. Photos, kisses, handholding, the whole charade. If we’re in a room together, we look like a couple that can’t keep their hands off each other. No exceptions.” The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was amused. “You sound like you’ve done this before.” “Crisis management is my speciality,” I shot back. “This is just another crisis with better lighting.” He didn’t argue, which was somehow worse. “Rule Two,” I continued, grabbing a pen from the desk and writing the words down like I was drafting a contract. “Consistency. No slips. No contradictions. If you say Paris was our first trip together, then Paris

After the network learned how healing meant ending the war against itself— another realization slowly unfolded beneath the aware patterns. Perfection. Not excellence. Emotional perfection. My chest tightened. Because many patterns secretly believed love depended on becoming flawless first. The network became filled with people trying endlessly to become impossible versions of themselves. Kinder. Smarter. More attractive. More productive. More emotionally controlled. Less needy. Less broken. People delayed self-acceptance while chasing impossible standards that continuously moved further away.

"Why did it have to be him, of all people? I don't even know why I'm here! Drinking away my sorrows just to forget about him. It's not as if he's that handsome. I mean, Jade has such a nasty temper, and I hate what he does sometimes. Do I even deserve this?!" "It's always like that, bestie. Sometimes, we don't get what we want from life. See, most of us aren't perfect my dear. We just have to make the best out of people even if we think their wrong for us, sometimes. Make Jade a perfect gentle man, Fire. I notice his best whenever he's with you. Have you seen the spark in his eyes, recently? That's the charm you've given to him. I've also noticed the same joy in you of resent. I don't know i

I wanted to punch each and everyone of them in their faces. "Then, I just gave up. I started focusing on my career and stuff and now here I am, having no clue how to be in a relationship," she finished with a sigh and I was finally starting to understand her better and it only made me fall for her even harder. Fuck, she was perfect. "Say something. Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked with a confused look on her face and I just shook my head. "I just can't believe that there are guys out there not wanting something that I would kill for," I whispered, resting my forehead against hers and she let out a shaky breath.

I tried to forget him, but it is not working" Chimamanda admits almost in tears. "Come on, Sis, don't cry, don't even try to hide it, let the feelings grow, build something new with him. From what I've researched, he seems to be a nice guy and, most importantly, let go of the past, don't allow it to deprive you of your happiness. Now get up, let's go, you have a Prince charming waiting downstairs". Chimamanda arranged her make-up tools back to their position, looked at the mirror one more time to admire her work of art. She picked up her clutch purse and phone.

In his thoughts the only thing running through his mind was how he would surprise her at the banquet and make her his fiancee. A sly smile spread across his face. He looked like the devil but a devilishly handsome one I might add. He undressed and got ready for his shower. He got into the shower and the water glistening on his skin. His skin was clear with no sign of blemishes. it was a little tan but that just added an air of intrigue around him. The water was cold and the man didn't shiver at all maybe it was to control the growing desire in him to go down a bit.

There was no reason for me to be angry since the conversation went well, a little too well but still I’m angry. Anybody who knows me knows am a perfectionist, there shouldn’t be any flaws in my plans or projects. Because if there’s even a slight error I go berserk. It’s like a thing I was born with I’m not a perfectionist because I love precision. I’m a perfectionist because I don’t survive mistakes, Perfectionism isn’t ambition It’s defense and I don’t leave room for error. People like me don’t get margins! I notice disorder before I notice anything else. It’s like seeing a chair pulled out too far with the need to correct it or a stack of papers misaligned on the table, or maybe Someone’s

I want to hear her call me that name again, but I push the thought off. I can’t ruin her perfect dress by fucking her like the animal I am. I’d definitely ruin her dress because I’m usually out of control when making love to her. She’s like a drug. I’m so addicted.

She even eats weird combined meals, like pickles and peanut butter and chips with chocolate, ketchup and pepper sauce. Having a pregnant girlfriend, well fiancé is a b*tch. It is moments like these that I regret having a penaynay. From this moment on, I swear I am never doing the dirty again. Next five seconds What am I saying, I need that shit. That is like the beat to my heart. Damn, I need counselling. I am definitely addicted to that thing. S*x I mean. But I cannot help it though. A man has to do, what a man has to feel.

The one I craved. My mind drifts back to Alina's tiny broken foot and I sigh. I never wanted to be like this. Growing up I had sworn I'd be normal, that I'd give this up and become the person I wished I could be. The desire to hurt is addictive, an instant hugh once the damage is done, and I can't seem to conquer my addiction. Despite how valiantly I had tried in the past. In my dream world, I'd have met Alina in some coffee shop. We'd have hit it off instantly and started to date. We'd be a real couple. This is not real. She doesn't love me. We'd have kids running around in a few years, I'd work a more respectable job, and she wouldn't have a mental lapse or panic under my touch. We've neve