Seperti Ingin Bab Tapi Tidak Bisa Novels & Stories

I'm all over her spell. You want to stand up and walk away to relieve the pain, but your knees are too weak and unable to stand. You want to drink water because you feel very thirsty, but your throat is still dry unable to quench your damn thirst. You also want to cry, but your tears are falling backward and only your heart catches everything bottling up.

Unwanted. Do you know what they say about craving something you can't have? That's the exact situation I am in. Craving for Baba's attention. For just the smallest fraction of the love, he shows Aiden. It is too much, and yet, I can't stop the desperate urge to make him notice me.

I can’t stop, nor can I quiet myself. As my body tightens up, my gums start to itch. I know what this is, but I don’t know if I should let it happen. I try to talk to Clover, but she’s not responding, and my attempts are weak at best. I can’t fully concentrate on talking with her because this feels so good.

He wanted to go home, but he was concern with Ally and the rest of her family. “Why, it is so difficult? I wanted to go home and feel at ease for myself but, why? Why do I feel like this? It seems that I cannot do what I wanted to do. I feel like being controlled. Please help me. I feel tired. Where should I go?” he murmured to himself.

I feel tired, I feel weak. But... I wonder why I don't want to give in? Why do I still want to keep trying? I am acting so stupid, foolish, stubborn. This is the easy way out for me yet... I still want to... I want to... I want to keep trying. Again and again and again and again and again...

Len says, gaining my attention once again. “How would I be able to do that?” I ask confused. I am not a teacher, and I don’t really want to teach teenagers how to act and behave, especially when I know very little about their world. “You run this empire, just let them see that.” “And if they don’t want to know?” I ask. More likely that they are not going to want to be told what to do by someone younger than them, especially if that person is a girl. “Then you can tell me, and we will leave them to their own devices. But I am hoping that you will give them the shove they need to finally step up and become the men they should be rather than the children they are.”

Pagmamayabang niya. Sinubukan niyang tumayo pero hindi pa din niya kaya. Naka-ilang beses na niyang sinubukan pero hindi pa rin talaga siya makatayo. She looks frustrated kaya nilapitan ko siya at akmang bubuhatin nang magpilit na naman siyang tumayo. Siguradong nahihilo pa din siya dahil kusa siyang napapaupo sa sofa. "Sa ayaw at sa gusto mo ay bubuhatin na kita." Medyo nagwawala pa din siya nang buhatin ko siya.

I wanted to stop. I promise, I wanted to stop. But I just couldn't. My p***y was sore, and painful. My fingers were tired, but I wasn't satisfied. I kept plunging and plunging. I wasn't satisfied because that image wouldn't leave my head, no matter how much I try to imagine my fingers to be it, it wasn't, and I kept wanting more. I took a moment to glance down, still gasping from the speed with which my fingers were hitting down completely off my control.

My fingers tap rhythmically on the keyboard, each keystroke a dance of creativity as I attempt to weave words into a captivating tapestry. But despite my fervent efforts, I find myself facing an invisible barrier, a daunting blockade that hinders the flow of inspiration. Writer's block, they call it. The bane of every writer's existence. I bite the back of my pen, a habit I've developed over time as if trying to extract ideas from its plastic casing. It's frustrating, maddening even, to feel the words slipping through my fingers like sand.

But it’s like trying to grasp smoke; it slips right through my fingers. “Why can’t I remember?” I cry out in frustration, feeling the tears stream down my face.