Who Said You Are Not Perfect Mga Nobela at Kwento

Cyrus stared at her in silence as she spoke further. “There is nothing wrong in being imperfect. Everyone lacks something it’s fine if you’re not perfect because this tells you that at the end of the day you’re also a human. A human who does mistakes. Being a human is being imperfect.” Cyrus blinked looking away from her as he licked his lips.

“You have learned how to move within it.” “How to adapt.” “How to respond.” A pause. Then I spoke again. “You will face things that do not fit what you know.” “Yes,” one said quietly. “You will make decisions that are not perfect.” Another pause. “Yes.” “You will miss things.” A longer silence. Then. “Yes.” I nodded. “And that is not failure.” Because it never had been. Failure had only ever been the refusal to learn. “You are not here to be perfect,” I said. “You are here to continue.”

A/P "Don't ever think you aren't good enough for anything. There are a lot of things you may be too good for, but not anything you're not good enough for." ~A/N

"That is enough for me. You are already manly on your own. Why must you be so perfect when I only want you like that? Your wife's candidates might try to get you away from me." "I won't let them do that." Matthew commented right away. "So, do not change. Be you, the real you. I like Matthew Zarsuelo, who knows how to eat sweets and play games with my brothers." I told him. “Really?” He asked. “Honestly, I missed my sweets already.” He added. He is perfect in my eyes already. Being perfect is not something that any person should do. People have different flaws, which is what we should focus on to improve.

No hesitation from me. "Perfect 10," I said.

It’s not just the support—it’s the way he says it, with complete certainty, like I’m all he needs to be happy. I swallow hard, my throat tight as I try to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “You’re too good to me,” I murmur, the guilt gnawing at me even more. “I’m not,” he replies quickly, shaking his head. “You’re the one who’s too hard on yourself.” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nicola. You’re allowed to miss things, to mess up. That’s life.”

“Not sure that makes much sense.” My eyes scan him, wanting to memorize each freckle, dent, crease and muscle in his face. My racing heart forms a lump in my throat while I question my next words. “Princess, if I’m not perfect, how can you love me?” I shift, lying on my side to give him my full, undivided attention. Removing my hand from his hair, I instead prop my own head up. “There’s no such thing as perfect.” “Yet here we are.” He sticks his tongue out.

His fingers brushed against mine. It was a light touch. It shouldn't have mattered. But a spark shot up my arm. I felt a heat that had nothing to do with the library’s heating system. I looked up and met his eyes. They were dark and intense. He wasn't joking anymore. "Do you ever wonder what would happen if you stopped being so perfect?" he asked. "I have to be perfect," I said. My voice was a whisper. "No one is perfect, Ava. Not even you. You’re just scared to let go."

When that day comes, illusion breaks and we have to face the reality. It's better this way. I know where I will be going and what to expect. I look at the man who stood in front of me with a blank look. What is happening? Tears start to swim in my eyes. The person whom I thought is perfect, is not perfect at all. "The idea of perfection is a myth, Angel. No one in this world is perfect. They act like they are. But they are not" he says as if reading my thoughts. Just then a thought occurs in my mind.

Not so much that it would even be showing in my voice. She shakes her head, then she blesses me with one of her smiles. The one I was scared would make me burn the whole world to the ground if she so much as asked. “No, you look perfect.” I have been called many things in my life. I couldn’t remember half of it. But perfect. Perfect is one no one has used before. Not in the three centuries that I have lived. Definitely not directed at me. “If I’m perfect, then what are you?” I ask her. “Hmmm, little wolf?”