Will Never Be Enough Novels & Stories

But sometimes, Almost isn't enough. "So, I'm going to kill myself."

"Please don't leave me..." "Karl, I need to go." "Then what about me?! Are you going to leave me? Just like that?! Catherine, you know how much I love you." "But it's not enough!" "...What?" "It's not enough, Karl. Love is never enough in this world. You should know that." "Catherine, I can't understand. Why are you—" "Is love enough to feed us in the future? Is it enough to make this world move on its axis? Is love enough to make all things better? Is it the only thing we need?!"

This wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be.

I was never enough. For my father, for my siblings, for my clan, I was never enough. And no matter how hard I work, how many plans I make for the future, the constant reminder of how unwanted I am never stops looming over my head. My heart feels like it will burst out of my chest, it’s beating so painfully hard.

I had begged him not to care so much about Paris, to spend more time with me, and to celebrate holidays on the actual day, not after. Alas, he never understood. He always told me I was being unreasonable. He said he wanted a partner who could understand his position, because Paris once had a miscarriage for him. Now that I’d finally made up my mind to walk away, he became the one clinging to the relationship. How ironic. “There’s no point,” I said softly. “Once love is broken, it can’t be put back together. Honestly, I think you and Paris are a better match.” I packed the wedding album into my suitcase and continued sorting my things. James watched me silently before going back into the bedr

“To know she is entirely genuine with you and entirely genuine with someone else simultaneously. That you are not enough. That you have never been enough.” “That’s not—” “Don’t.” His hand came up, stopping me, a wall not a touch. “Don’t tell me what it is. I was there.” “You are enough,” I said. My voice broke on it. “Nate, you are more than—” “If I were enough, you wouldn’t have needed him.” I opened my mouth and nothing came out.

She stood at the window and finished the coffee. Not enough and not the right thing had been the whole shape of it from the beginning. She had known that. She had always known that. She had spent fifteen years trying to make not enough become enough through proximity and patience and being present and being useful and finally through making sure the alternative was smaller than she was. None of it had worked. None of it was ever going to work. A person who was not enough was always going to be not enough no matter what you did to the alternative. She rinsed the cup. She got dressed. She left.

That I still felt incomplete? I reach for the nightstand to pick up the letter I wrote last night. It is crumpled now from the number of times I have picked it up and put it down, struggling with whether or not to send it. It is a mess of thoughts, a mess of reasons why I could never do this, but even as I read it now, I know that isn't enough. How might that ever be enough to say why I left him?

“I was too weak once, too weak to save my sisters and too late to do anything. And when I saw him there, standing over her crib... I thought I was too late again.” I want to reach out, to tell him I’m here, but something keeps me still. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in his voice, the way he’s letting himself fall apart in the quiet of the night, thinking I’m asleep. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough,” he continues, his voice rough. “Enough to keep you both safe. I tell myself I will be, that I’ll do whatever it takes, but sometimes... sometimes it feels like the world is against us.”

she muttered between sobs, her voice breaking with every word. But no matter how much she tried to blame herself, the hurt didn’t lessen. Instead, it consumed her, growing bigger and darker, like a storm cloud that wouldn’t pass. “I wasn’t enough,” she whispered, the thought slicing through her like a knife. She closed her eyes, fresh tears spilling over as she let the words sink in. “I’ll never be enough.” The ache in her voice cracked under the weight of her grief, the words falling from her lips as if speaking them would somehow lighten the pain...