Another Word For Desperate Novels & Stories

this helplessness, let a person despair incomparable! Can not help but, some disillusioned ...... since how to struggle are useless words ...... a speechless despair, floated to the heart, gradually run to the limbs and bones! Closed her eyes, her clenched hand, despair loosened. Her line of sight, re-falls on Wei Sisan's face, said clearly in one word: "Ms. Wei, are you sure, this time, if I do as you say, you'll give me all the backups and promise not to bother revealing them?"

Jessica shivered, wrapping herself tightly in the quilt, feeling the chill seeping into her bones. The quilt seemed to be covered in a thin layer of frost, making everything feel icy cold. Jessica's head throbbed, her thoughts slowing down, as if everything was becoming unclear, with brief moments of blankness in her mind. It was terrifying, like drowning in the sea without being able to grab onto anything. This feeling was called despair. In the darkness, tears fell. From some movie, she remembered hearing a line, "Fragile people like darkness because it conceals all vulnerabilities and helplessness. Even if you cry, darkness can hide it for you."

I pleaded, my voice desperate. But my words fell on deaf ears.

And from here on, denial would sound exactly like what it was. Desperation.

Something confused and angry and desperate. This was going to be complicated.

She looks as if she’s just stepped out of a magazine — her hair sleek, her lips glossed, her perfume so thick enough to make me want to gag my throat out. “You know,” she begins, folding her arms like she’s posing for a cover shoot, “I really don’t see the point of you showing up here anymore. It’s… desperate.” She savors the word. “Yes. It screams desperation.” I blink slowly. I don’t have the strength or the interest to meet her on this childish battlefield. If there’s anyone who is desperate, she is. Right from pushing our father to threaten me to stay away from Alexander to showing up relentlessly. How disgustingly desperate.

Fiona’s POV Beg for mercy? Not a fucking chance in hell. I’ve begged for mercy so many times all my life that the words have lost their meaning. My life was like an endless abyss, a pit I can never crawl out of, no matter how much I claw at the sides. No matter how much I begged for it to be over. Hopeless. That’s the word, isn’t it? That’s what this is. This existence. It was something I’d never wish an enemy. The utter feeling of hopelessness and despair. The constant alertness that came with it all was truly disheartening.

"He is our finest prospect. He understands the network and its shortcomings. I nod, even if discomfort turns around in my stomach. Do you trust him? "No," he says, staring squarely forward. Still, I find his desperation credible. Knowing his right, I bite my lip. One rather effective motivator is desperation. It is also a death sentence. "We need a plan," I add, concentrating on bandage tying off. Something that doesn't finish with us in another ambush. His lips move in the ghostly form of a grin. "Good fate with that."

“If we walk in there like this, we won’t make it ten steps.” I took a step forward anyway. “Zanny,” he warned. “I see it,” I said, my eyes still fixed on the territory ahead. “I know what this is.” “Then act like it.” “I am.” He grabbed my arm before I could take another step, his grip firm but not painful. “This isn’t courage,” he said, turning me to face him again. “This is desperation.” “Same thing,” I shot back. “No,” he said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Courage keeps you alive. Desperation gets you killed.”

’ And I shifted closer to read the passage. And frowned. Another ingredient label. Rum continued reading and translating. ‘The darkness seeks the willing…the willing is the open….’ Sigh. More riddles. ‘The willing is one who doesn’t resist.’ Rum looked at me. ‘Because he’s desperate.’ It sounds logical to me, so I nodded and added, ‘Or one who can’t resist. Because he’s too tired. So these are the depressed or desperate.’