Natural Perfection V2
by @manuel78 on Manuel
View my bio on Blurt.media: https://blurt.media/c/manuel78 
story based off lyrics made with Ai
lyrics by me plus lyric generator
Natural Perfection V2 - lyrics
honey dont you know your a natural beauty eeeee
so dont you change a thing because your pretty
and if you change some thing you ruined perfection
but id still love you hun even if i dont approve
of your decision of course id still love you
but id be so sad because you uou are beautiful
and you dont need a thing to look better
so smile and lift your chin because your perfection
love you to death and beyond super cute my dear
every single time even with messy hair yourblooking beautiful
no one else compares to my beauty and my girl
so all you haters sit down ive got the best one
shes crazy and all mine so sit down
love the way she smiles the way she gives me signs
and the way she moves and her little wiggle
the way she does every thing makes me smile oh so big
i love the way she moves the way she says hello
Title: Perfectly, Entirely Nina
Leo’s world had a new center of gravity, and her name was Nina. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though to Leo she was the most breathtaking sight in the entire city. It was the way she inhabited her own skin, a quality he was still trying to find the courage to tell her he saw. They were friends, orbiting each other in the shared spaces of university life—the library where she tucked her feet under her, the coffee shop where she argued passionately about graphic novels, the park where she’d stop to greet every anxious-looking dog.
Tonight, they were at a dimly lit house party, the air thick with bass and the sweat of a hundred bodies. Nina was across the room, caught in a debate with a guy from her philosophy class. Leo watched, a silent sentinel. She was wearing an old band t-shirt she’d clearly cut the sleeves off herself, and jeans with paint stains. Her dark, curly hair was a magnificent riot, escaping the loose knot she’d attempted hours ago. She gestured with a half-empty plastic cup, her face alight with a fervor that made Leo’s chest ache.
A girl next to Leo, someone from his economics seminar, followed his gaze and snorted softly. “She’s a lot, isn’t she? That whole… messy artist vibe. Doesn’t she ever, like, try?”
The comment was a pebble thrown into the calm lake of his admiration, sending out ripples of protective anger. He turned, his voice low but firm. “What’s there to try for?” He wanted to say so much more. Honey, don’t you know you’re a natural beauty? The words played on a loop in his mind, a private truth he couldn’t yet voice. So don’t you change a thing because you’re pretty. He believed it with every fiber of his being. To him, the paint stains were constellations, the messy hair a crown. And if you change some thing you ruined perfection. It was a stark, absolute feeling. The idea of her smoothing her edges, quieting her passions, or dressing to impress someone like the critical girl beside him felt like a small, personal tragedy.
The girl shrugged, missing the storm in his eyes, and wandered off. Leo turned back to Nina. The philosophy guy was now smiling, disarmed, and Nina was laughing—a full, unselfconscious sound that cut through the drone of the music. Leo’s heart clenched. But I’d still love you, hun, even if I don’t approve of your decision. It was a startling realization, even to him. If she woke up tomorrow and decided she wanted to be someone completely different, he knew his affection wouldn’t vanish. It was wired into him, connected to her soul, not her aesthetic. Of course I’d still love you. But a deep, melancholic truth followed it. But I’d be so sad because you you are beautiful. His sadness wouldn’t be for himself, but for the world losing the raw, brilliant spectacle of her authentic self.
Nina finally spotted him, her debate concluded. She weaved through the crowd, her path a series of small, bouncing steps. “Leo! You’re lurking. Stop lurking. That guy was trying to tell me Nietzsche would’ve loved superhero movies. The audacity.” She was close now, smelling of citrus and the night air.
“And you schooled him, I assume,” Leo said, a smile finally touching his lips.
“Naturally.” She grinned up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. A smudge of what looked like eyeliner, probably from hours ago, was at the corner of one eye. Her shirt was crooked. She was radiant.
And you don’t need a thing to look better. The thought was a completed sentence in his mind. There was no product, no outfit, no pose that could augment what she was in this moment. So smile and lift your chin because your perfection. He wished he could say it. Instead, he reached out almost unconsciously and gently straightened the collar of her t-shirt. His fingers barely brushed her neck. “Your, uh, shirt was fighting you.”
She didn’t flinch, just kept smiling. “It’s rebellious. Like me.”
Love you to death and beyond, super cute my dear. The sentiment was so vast it terrified him. It wasn’t just romantic love; it was awe, protection, and an endless fascination. Every single time, even with messy hair, you’re looking beautiful. It was a constant. First thing in the morning during a sleepy study session, late at night after she’d cried during a sad film, now, in the chaotic glow of a party—every iteration of her was a masterpiece to him.
Later, as they walked back toward campus, the noise of the party fading behind them, Nina was in high spirits. She skipped a little on the pavement, humming a song he didn’t recognize. A group of guys passed them on the other side of the street, and one of them called out a clumsy, half-drunk compliment about Nina’s smile. His friend added a less polite comment about her “little wiggle.”
Nina’s step faltered. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a familiar, weary frustration. She hunched her shoulders slightly, a defensive gesture Leo hated.
A hot, possessive clarity surged through Leo. It wasn’t about owning her, but about claiming the truth as he saw it against the noise of the world. He stopped walking and turned to face her, blocking the view of the retreating guys. His voice, when he spoke, was not loud, but it was solid, an anchor in the unsettled night.
“They don’t get a vote,” he said.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Them. Anyone. All the haters, the commentators, the guys who think their opinion on you is required.” He took a small step closer, his gaze locked on hers. No one else compares to my beauty and my girl. The “my” wasn’t possessive, it was proprietary of his own perception. In his eyes, in his world, there was no comparison. So all you haters sit down, I’ve got the best one. He was the keeper of this knowledge, the witness to her glory, and he was done being a silent witness. She’s crazy and all mine. “You’re the best one, Nina. And you’re… you’re magnificently, wonderfully crazy. And you’re…” He trailed off, the final word too big to say.
But she was listening, her eyes wide, the defensiveness melting into something else—surprise, a dawning hope.
He pushed on, the words coming easier now, painting the picture he saw every day. I love the way she smiles, the way she gives me signs. He thought of her secret smile when she solved a difficult problem, the way she’d catch his eye across a room and give a tiny, knowing roll of her eyes. And the way she moves and her little wiggle. He said it with reverence, reclaiming the word from the drunken call. “The way you move, that little bounce in your step when you’re happy. The way she does every thing makes me smile oh so big. Everything you do, from ranting about philosophy to spilling coffee on your notes, it makes me smile. It makes me smile so big my face hurts.”
Tears welled in Nina’s eyes, but she was smiling too, a real, trembling, beautiful smile. “Leo…”
He couldn’t stop. The dam was broken. “You are a natural beauty. A perfect, chaotic, paint-splattered, genius-level natural beauty. And if you ever change a single thing for someone else’s approval, I will still be here, because I am irrevocably, permanently yours. But I will mourn the loss of what is, to me, the most perfect sight I’ve ever known.”
There was no music swelling, no beat drop. Just the distant city sounds and the rustle of leaves in the trees above them. The tribal percussion was the hammering of his own heart. The weeping violin was the vulnerable, hopeful look on her face.
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, she closed the small gap between them. She didn’t kiss him—not yet. Instead, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, a gesture of pure trust and exhaustion. He wrapped his arms around her, holding the entire, wonderful, messy universe of her.
I love the way she moves, the way she says hello. He loved it all. The way she moved through the world with unapologetic fervor. The way she said hello, with her entire being, whether it was to him, a friend, or a stranger’s dog. It was all part of the symphony of her.
When she finally lifted her head, the smudged eyeliner was now joined by the tracks of quiet tears. She was, somehow, more beautiful than ever. “You see all that?” she whispered.
“It’s all I see,” he whispered back.
And as they walked the rest of the way home, her hand found his, their fingers intertwining. The fading piano of the night settled around them, a gentle, quiet soundtrack to a truth finally spoken. He had laid his heart bare, using the lyrics of his soul, and she had heard every word.