Perfectly Imperfect Artinya Novels & Stories

She stepped out and looked around, squinting as she took in her environment before putting on her shades. "You are perfect, Scar," I said. She turned to look at me, her perfectly carved brow up in askance. "You think? Perfection doesn't exist, Finn. It's just a social construct and sadly, we have all fallen into the trap. We do a lot of things just to stay perfect when we could just be ourselves. Imperfect," She was a smart woman. Heartfelt. That was perfect enough for me. She wasn't empty. She had a soul. A beautiful soul and that was perfect to me.

“Then, choose the life you want. Son, as someone quoted, life is a work of art. If you don’t like what you see, paint over it.” I listened to papa as he explained that life was never simple and that, like art, it was colorful, full of emotions, and perceived differently by different people. “You don’t need to live a life because people tell you to do it. If you don’t like the life you have, it is the same as painting. If painting isn’t what you want, remember, son, you can choose whatever will make you happy. You are the artist of your own life. You are the one who creates your masterpiece. You can be anyone you want. If you fall, paint all over it and start again. The only failure we could

I smothered the doubts in my chest again and again, forcing myself to believe it was just an act, nothing more. However, I never imagined that once the first crack appeared in the heart, the dam would burst faster than you ever thought it could.

The banks stepped in to handle the liquidation. At that time, I was traveling abroad with Mom. We didn't know the language of that country, so we learned it slowly—starting with single words, then gradually becoming fluent enough to chat with ease. A few years later, we returned home and leisurely opened a small studio together. It was a handicraft workshop—work that didn't require much brainpower. The two of us could take our time, doing crafts, chatting, and enjoying life. There weren't many orders. We worked occasionally, whenever we felt like it.

"what do you mean? I'm not that good in it, well or else it's buildings" Lucy shook her head. "That's so not true, I've seen your paintings before, they are not just good, they are..." I cut her off "terrible, I wonder how I would be able to cope there with all those talented people there" Lucy placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself, okay? You're not giving yourself enough credit. Good is an understatement, you are perfect" I raised an eyebrow, yah! perfect. If that was the definition of perfect, then everyone is perfect. "What do you mean? I'm really not good at art, Lucy."

I needed just this. "You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Princess Naomi's voice preceded her as my eyes caught her standing, hands on her hips, with her eyes locked to me. "Why are you here?" I asked from the pool. "What does he see in you that he cannot see in me? There's nothing unique or amazing about you. You're just a leech who wobbled here to suck his life away, but I'm not about to just sit around and let that happen!"

I watch as the words come to mind but never leaves her lips, she has been rendered speechless. "The thing is, Becca, there is no perfect lover; we are all flawed, but knowing those flaws and still loving with all your heart creates perfect love. I will never look further than you, my love. If my heart is a flower waiting to bloom, your love is the only sunshine it needs." "Josh?"

He asks warmly, an affectionate twinkle in his eye. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m so tired of getting credit for things that just so happened to occur in my general vicinity.” I complain, slumping back and rubbing my full belly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the compliments… I just… perfection is an impossible thing to live up to… and I am so far from perfect it’s laughable. I don’t want to end up with a reputation that I’m destined to fall short of – I’m only human after all.” A moment after the words leave my mouth, I realize they aren’t true. “I mean, not human, but I’m just a person like everyone else.”

Jayler became wickedly confident in a pinch, a short statement from a teenager who accurately distinguishes bad things from good things but still does the bad things regardless. "Then why are you still doing it?" I asked. It’s not like I don’t know the answer but perhaps I just wanted to hear his opinion. "I don't know. Maybe because I believe that we, humans, are perfectly imperfect." Jayler shrugged and the brilliance in him started to show itself. A strong and somehow compelling poetic tongue spat the words out of his mouth. "And how is that related to what I just asked?" I asked further. I thought I knew what he was going to say but his response was such a surprise to me.

The bloodlust vanished from the air like it never existed. “Well, at least I am perfect at being flawed…” Ezra sipped in the coffee, making loud slurping noises which was clearly annoying Raven even more. “I am flawlessly imperfect.” He continued in a dreamy tone, like he was reciting the hymn of the universe. “Imperfectum est perfectio. Perfectio est illusionis. Imperfection is perfection and perfection is illusion. So, you are an illusion, Raven.” He pointed his finger at Raven. Ouch. That must have hurt, and it clearly did. I gaped at Raven.