Perfection Synonym Novels & Stories

I let my anxiety get the best of me. “You overthink everything too much. We came here to celebrate your internship at Santiago and Associates law firm, right?” She asked, stating the obvious. I nodded at her. “Do you know what that means? Sweetheart, you got into the best law firm in the States! Only one in every ten thousand applicants gets in and you got in. That definitely calls for a celebration!” “But—” “Nope,” she shook her head. “No buts. We've come this far already and we're definitely going to have fun tonight before your big day, okay?”

“You don’t seem like the perfect choice for Ava.” I turned to her, arching a brow. “And what does that mean?” She shrugged. “She’s… steady. She cares about things that aren’t measured in numbers or power. And you… well, you like control.” Andrew snorted. “In other words, she’s not the type to just fall into your world and let you have your way.” Something in me bristled at that. Janice continued, her voice softer this time. “But love isn’t about perfection, Logan. It never is. If you want her, you have to accept that first.”

Sophie and Mia just figured it was karma finally catching up to Derek. "Guess his karma was you, Bella." And then, like they'd jinxed it—

But it was gone before I could place it. “You’ll adjust,” he said finally, turning back to the window. “Sure.” I should’ve left then, but I didn’t. Something kept me rooted in place, staring at the man who seemed so untouchable yet so completely alone. “You know,” I said softly, “you don’t have to keep everything perfect all the time.” He looked at me then, eyes like blue ice under city lights. “Perfection is control, Sophia. And control is necessary.” “Even in your own home?”

“You wish to use the Chaos here to grow” “You wish to consume Chaos to reach heights you cannot normally reach in the realm outside” “Smart boy” “Greedy boy” “Seeker of perfection” “You want to be the epitome of perfection” “To gain a perfect foundation” “To make no mistakes” “What a keen mind” “Yet a foolish thought”

[note to QI: above line says perfume too, so I kept this neutral/vague by changing to liquid] She then glared at me and asked, "Did you tamper with the perfume, Helena?" I shrugged my shoulders, looking completely innocent. "What on earth are you talking about? Why don't I understand what you're getting at, Queenie? Is it possible that your perfume has simply gone bad?" Queenie asked through gritted teeth, "Didn't you realize that the person who uses this perfume can't actually smell it? How did the perfume I gave you end up on my vanity, Helena?"

"The best option now is for you to redo your senior year with Nicole. I'll see you on campus one year from now. Nothing's going to change during this time. It's not a big deal." Not a big deal? My whole body started to shake uncontrollably. "Preston Nolin, do you know what a 626 score means?" I asked. "It's the top one percent in the entire state. "I woke up at 4:30 am and went to sleep at midnight every day. I was doing practice exams even on New Year's Day. I threw myself into studying for three straight years to get that 626, and you say it's 'not a big deal' and that I should just redo my senior year?"

Not for anything. Not ever. This was home. This was love. This was everything. And it was more than enough. It was perfect. In all its imperfect glory. Perfect.

He mirrored my actions and we had a mini stare down for a few seconds. "Maybe I haven't found the right one." I laughed in his face, "There's no such thing as the right one." He seemed taken aback by my amusement, "There is. Why would you say that?" "There's no perfect person out there. You just have to find a pretty good person and deal with their flaws for the rest of your life." I stated. "No one said anything about perfection. I'm saying, the right person wouldn't have you questioning your feelings even when they mess up." His statement left me thinking deep.

I had not had enough of that lately. "How is the market analysis essay going?" he asked. "Slowly. I keep starting the same paragraph and deleting it." "What is wrong with it?" he asked. "Nothing is wrong with it. It just does not feel finished even when it technically is." "That is called being a perfectionist," he said. "I have the opposite problem. Mine feels finished when it is nowhere near finished." "That sounds worse." "It is much worse," he said. "Ask my last three essays."