You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It Novels & Stories

She'd done nothing but think and dream about him and now that she was face to face with him, she had no idea how to speak, move, think, or what to feel. She looked around awkwardly, not sure whether he heard her. He was seated in the dark, possibly sleeping, watching her, or dead. No, he couldn't be de- "Well, I never imagined my mate would look like this," He finally said after a protracted silence. Maya chuckled. "Look like this? Excuse me? Do you even know who you're talking to? I'm one of the biggest fashion and beauty influencers in this country. Do you know how many beauty pageants I've declined to contest in? I set trends that people follow. I'm a well-known 'it girl'. Do you think I'

"Let me go and find people who would tell me how beautiful I am. You don't want to see how many want in their lives and you're just here wasting time to compliment me." A louder laughter dragged out from within him and I shook my head softly. "You don't believe me?" "I do. I mean, you're a beautiful woman all through and through. Who would say that he hasn't seen a specimen is clearly blind." "Like you right? Come to think of it, you've never called me beautiful. I don't know what to make of this. Am I really ugly."

And then I had had to survive a world that had been worse than hell, my admirers worse than vile demons of hell. Today, ten years later, I sat at the back seat of my SUV, admiring the glow of my skin in the dim overhead light as I applied the last layer of make-up on my perfectly sculptured face, the tiny mirror of my compact reflecting the light from above. I was beautiful, and I knew it. I wasn’t going to be a gullible fool who shied away from compliments and pretended not to know my self-worth. I knew just how beautiful I was, and just the kind of affect I had on men when I walked past them on the streets. I had been blessed with my mother’s Italian features as well my father’s sharp Amer

Perhaps a place like this deserved the title of 'beauty'; the pure and unwavering kind. At that word she felt her face twitch slightly as her mind sparked into hellfire, dense lightening quaking through her muscles and bones. Her teeth bitterly roped in her thoughts as distant faces and feelings stung against her skin and swam behind her eyes. Why was it that beautiful things also remind us of the most ugly? Why do the most quiet of times remind us of the most quaking?

I need to put an act or else she will think that something is wrong. "I am not ugly, right?" "Ugh" she groaned "Nothing on you looks ugly, you are perfectly crafted to be beautiful. Nobody can ignore that face of yours!" she proudly said. But you are more beautiful than me, is that the reason why your own brother fall for you?

She looked in the mirror, not really liking what she saw, especially when those words echoed in her head. "You've changed." She lowered her gaze a little disappointed. --I can't do anything, that's just the way I am. She whispered a little. She took the resume that was on the nightstand; she glanced at it to see if she had put everything in correctly; it was actually almost empty. She poured herself a cup of coffee along with a piece of toast, and when she bit into it, the bread reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything for almost two days; she hadn't noticed because of the sadness she felt. She tried not to think about her misfortune anymore, so she finished her bread and her coffee. Alic

The buzz, the music, intoxicating substances except the pricks. Of course! I am still untouched. Not yet deflowered. Still as pure as a blessed dove. I am supposed to be ashamed of this in this century but .... hell! am I so darn! proud of myself like a peacock with spread out tail feathers in colourful glory, enchanting beauty, magnificence and pride along with shoulders high.

Mine does too, But I learnt to smile, Against all odds. Heartbreak, Trauma, Depression, They made a home in me, Did they try same with you too? You're the kind of broken, That people far and wide, Would one day come to watch. Your scars would be beautiful, It'll shine for all to see. You're a different kind of beautiful, You're broken beautiful. A masterpiece, Most times isn't perfect. It's the flaws, That creates art. Be proud of yourself,

"What do you fear?" "Being ugly." That was understandable she was the Goddess of Beauty, she couldn't be ugly, but then again what was ugly? Being different? The word was used to make people feel less than, we were told being beautiful—being perfect, meant being skinny, meant having no flaws, but everybody has flaws, no one's perfect and that's what makes us beautiful. Adrian removed his hand from her cheek. "I'm still feeling fear, take it back." She ordered as everyone walked over, curious.

My great enemy, insecurity, was reminding me that I would never be enough for anyone. -You're beautiful. I don't know how you don't have a boyfriend- G's reflection aloud made me lookup. What?- I don't know who has put all the nonsense that you're not in your head, but I promise you, you're beautiful- He pressed my nose, smiling at me.