Novel & Cerita Perfectionist Book

She pressed her cracked lips together. Disgusting. You're disgusting. She thought to herself. Rowena felt like crying. She wanted to cry. But the tears didn't come. A part of her thought she had no right to cry. There was only an insurmountable amount of self-loathing. Heat coursed through her face and body yet again. She turned off the faucet and moved towards the small shower area. Without undressing, she opened the shower head and stood underneath it. The cool water tapping against her body gave a sense of comfort. Not long after, her black shirt began to hug her body. The sensation wasn't strong enough. Rowena wrapped her weak arms around her torso. She wanted nothing to be embraced, to

“So tell me why you think the island is against you.” “I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic because of the storm. I thought this weekend would be a good way for me to meet the department heads, and it has been. It’s just that I wanted everything to be perfect even though I know that’s an impossibility.” Once again, I feel like she’s sharing more than she intends to, but maybe the dark is allowing her to say what she’s truly thinking. “Perfection is the enemy of progress.” I take a bite for myself using the same fork, and I don’t understand why I have this need to be so intimate with someone I don’t even know.

“At home, sometimes I’d sit on my bed and think: I don’t belong here. This family isn’t mine. It was a silent kind of pain, you know? A question that never left me.” “Love…” Thor tried to speak, but she lifted a hand, asking him to let her continue. “I’ve always struggled to stay consistent in anything. You have no idea how hard it was for me to write my first book. I think it’s awful—honestly. Every chapter felt wrong, incomplete. I chased perfection, but it never came. Even when I saw it growing on the platform, even now with the printed edition selling and people praising it… all I can see are the flaws.”

Still I didn't ran away , my pace wasn't hurried , I wished my mother would rush behind me . She didn't. She never does . After all it was her absolute humiliation and embrassment that she created some one so ugly and imperfect like me . I was nothing just an imperfect imitation and Once upon a pageant queen of every pageant of my mother wanted nothing more than to wipe this imperfection off her perfect family . Only she couldn't And neither could I.

It is so hard to read her. I stared at her. Just a while ago, when she came into Samantha's office, she looked like a lost stray cat looking for a place to stay. She has probably gathered all her courage to listen to my answers in the interview that wasn't meant for me. And now, I can't stop myself from wanting to know her more. "Then tell me, what is it that you like in a man? If I'm perfect, what would stop you from liking me?" Tara meets my eyes to let me know she is honest with her answer.

I said in a bored tone, watching her tremble a bit at the harshness of my voice. She snapped her finger in my face, taking a step closer as her eyes filled with anger. “Hey Mister whatever you call yourself. Clearly you think you're some kind of hero for coming when you did but that doesn't give you any right to assume things like that. If you're just going to judge someone based on the ten seconds that you've met them, then guess what I think. I think you're an egotistical human that thinks he's some kind of saviour and the world should be at his mercy. Why? Because apparently you…” she stopped abruptly and the next thing I knew, I heard a loud retching sound and I felt something wet seepin

Carefree The day I woke up feeling like I had gone ten rounds with the world heavyweight champion. I was so angry and hurt, I wondered if, in my sleep, I was fighting all night. Images of Victor's face kept creeping into my mind. He didn't seem like a mean or vindictive person. Sure, he was extra and a bit flamboyant in his style. Always perfectly dressed, rather casual, or in a suit and tie. Not a strand of hair ever out of place. So clean and orderly, a bit of a perfectionist. But even with all of that, he doesn't seem harsh or cruel. I moaned, forcing myself out of the incredibly comfortable bed, heading into the bathroom.

“Matthew failed to tell you that he’s in love with the mother of his child. He took you and marked you on an impulse, but he has no intention of being with you.” I watched as her tears filled with eyes. “Why? What’s wrong with me?” “No, no, no, baby. You’re perfect. I’m just already in love with someone else. I want her and my child. I can’t be with you.” He quickly told her. “How can I be perfect, yet you don’t want me?” She cried. “It’s not your fault. I’m really sorry.” He said as he rubbed her arm. I could tell that he was doing his best to resist the tingles that their touch created.

He never met her, but he despised anyone who hurt me. But when had things started to change? Was it when Laila began hovering around him, acting sweet like a lover? Was it when she clung to him during our dates, or when they started texting each other over the phone for long hours? My lover had become the knight of the person I resented most. I thought I could handle the pain, but it still hurt. Now that I was dying, I could've just let them have whatever they wanted. "It's my fault for putting you in this mess. I'll clear your name by telling them that I was the one who plagiarized your work," I said.

she replied, “I can’t believe we are breaking history, a maid is marrying her boss.” “I don’t think anybody would believe that for you look nothing like a maid.” “But I was a maid.” “Was, but not anymore, you are my imperfect perfection,” he replied that she could only smile and wondered how can they be a perfection that is imperfect? Not getting her answer, she smiled more pronounced and listened to the priest, today is a very big day to her, a day she had looked forward to all her life with the man beside her. And she knew that just as his words ‘imperfect perfection’ confused her, so would their love confuse anyone who tries to ruin them.