The Paradox Of Choice Mga Nobela at Kwento

I knew at that moment that I had just crossed my boundary. ////////////////////////////////// Okay, so I have decided to give each chapter a status Frenzy(easy to write) Cranky( not easy) Frenzy but a little Cranky, you know what that is. This is imperfection, the first trilogy.

I’ve heard a saying that goes thus; if you want to make enemies, choose them wisely. I don’t believe I chose mine wisely. And I don’t believe there’s a saying like that actually… But it still makes sense because I could have chosen enemies who were less powerful and cruel so that my life’s predicament wouldn’t be as brutal. But I went ahead and did the opposite. But then again, sometimes, we are choiceless when it comes to selecting our enemies. Sometimes, it just happens naturally and we find random cruel people hunting us down and aiming to destroy our lives.

ONE MOMENT IT IS RAINING THE NEXT MOMENT THE SUN IS SHINING, SOME PEOPLE SAY CAPE TOWN WEATHER IS LIKE A WOMAN'S MOOD, ALWAYS CHANGING. SHE WENT TO SIT DOWN AND PLACED HER CUP ON A COASTER ON THE COFFEE TABLE. SHE TOOK A DEEP BREATH IN AND SLOWLY BREATHED IT OUT AGAIN. SHE WANTED TO CLEAR HER THOUGHTS. SHE NEEDED TO DECIDE WHAT SHE WAS GOING TO DO. SHE COULDN'T KEEP THIS SITUATION GOING. SHE NEEDED TO MAKE A CHOICE. SHE KNEW SHE LOVED BOTH AND SHE LOVED THEM IN DIFFERENT WAYS. THEY WERE BOTH SO DIFFERENT, SHE JUST COULDN'T BRING HERSELF TO CHOOSE.

"Then can you swear that you've truly done as I said and never harassed her or sent her disgusting messages? Tell me. If you've done any of that, you'll be doomed to a life of poverty and never be successful!" To Mia, this was far more terrifying than cursing her to come to an untimely end. Everything she'd done so far was to secure a life of wealth and luxury; if she was doomed to a life of poverty, then what was all that for? Then again, it was just a meaningless vow. If vows actually worked, then many men would've been struck down at the wedding altar every year. Mia made up her mind and raised her hand. "I swear, if… If I did those things, I would… I would be doomed…"

Mary looked at her. “Oh no, that is too much Bettina” she protested. “Not at all, it’s the bare necessity” Bettina said. “She is correct my friend, that is a standard wardrobe” Cheara agreed. “Let’s pick out the style of the dresses and the fabrics.” Mary was shown into a backroom where different styles of dresses were displayed on mannequins. Mary looked at them and after consulting with Bettina choose two different styles for her everyday dresses and two others for her fancy dresses. Then it was on to selecting the fabrics. Mary had no idea what to choose. It felt like it took her hours. Both Bettina and Cheara refused to tell her what to choose other than giving advice on what type of fab

Only choice. The word sat heavy in Ava's mind. She had thought she understood it, had believed that her decisions throughout this crisis had been freely made. But looking back, she saw the architecture of necessity that had shaped every move, the invisible constraints that had narrowed her options until only one path remained visible. True choice required more than the absence of obvious coercion. It required the presence of genuine alternatives, each with its own legitimacy, each demanding its own sacrifice.

I hated that she was right and I hated that I was right and I hated that we were both trying to out-stubborn the same ghost. “All right,” I said. “We do it my way that looks like your way that looks like his way.” Her head tilted. “Translate.” “Bounded choice,” I said. “You tell him what you ‘can’t’ do—no enclosed spaces, no late nights, no private rooms, no cars. You drop a memory crumb that points to three places without naming a single one. He thinks he’s taking care of you by picking the ‘least scary’ option. He’ll choose the thing we’ve already built a house around.”

Nick said, meeting her gaze. “You know I had no choice.” The woman replied. “There is always a choice.” Nick stated, and I agreed. There is always a choice. I thought. Yes, we have all burrowed that excuse of ‘I had no choice.’ one time or the other. It is a climatic, pause-for-extra-drama one liner that arrests the audience, pulls in their sympathy for you, but that’s until they’ve had a moment to realize that there is always a choice; we just have ones we prefer. When one outcome is substantially more impacting than the other, it feels like the choice is obvious.

"Oh, but I am. Scary enough that you're questioning yourself. Doubting. Wondering what your breaking point is." "I don't have one. Not where Hope is concerned." "Everyone has one. Yours is quite simple actually. Want to know what it is?" "Not particularly." "It's choice. You can't stand making impossible choices. Choosing who lives and who dies. Who to save and who to sacrifice. That's your weakness. Your fatal flaw." "Everyone hates those choices." "But you're paralyzed by them. Remember Jude? You couldn't decide whether to save him or protect Hope. So you tried both. Nearly got everyone killed."

But as the dark plague swept the lands, the egg I'd nurtured for a decade hatched overnight—while I was dying, he soared past me to save Isabella. He could have hatched years ago. Could have been human all along. But he chose Isabella. He mistook her for his savior. Then I was back to the day it all began. This time, Isabella lunged for the white egg first, afraid I'd take it. I slung my worn satchel of herbs over my shoulder. Turned my back on them both. "You can have them both," I said calmly. "I choose myself." This life, I swore I would have nothing to do with Adrian.