Novel & Cerita Apa Itu Pathetic

Thinking about it, this kind of life doesn't seem worth living. "Pathetic." A thick and deep masculine voice suddenly drifted into Gillian's ear, making her freeze. Gillian snapped out of her poignant thoughts and blinked her eyes. Was the person talking to her? Was she the one being called pathetic... "Don't you think you are very pathetic? Of course, I'm talking to you." The masculine voice barbed with a sneer, his contempt very evident in his voice. Upon hearing the jerk’s disparaging tone, Gillian's expression changed, and her eyes gradually turned cold with fury.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I pleaded with Steve to not do this to me, but he just laughed in response. The next few hours were a blur of pain and degradation as the men took turns using me however they pleased. I felt like a puppet on strings, forced to dance to their twisted desires. the whole time, Steve just sat there watching, enjoying every minute of my pain. When it was finally over, I lay on the floor broken and numb, unable to process what had just happened. Steve stood over me, his face contorted with satisfaction. "You're nothing but pathetic trash. And that's all you'll ever be," he spat before walking out of the room, leaving me alone.

I wasn’t sure if it was from the fight or from lute lessons Marenia had me do till i got a song— to darn perfection. I looked at myself in the mirror. Just a girl. I fell into bed with a tired sigh. Eyes open. Mind racing. Then, like a spark in a thunderstorm, I heard it—sharp, smug, and definitely not mine. 《《Pathetic》》 I jump up from the bed in shock. What the fuck was that? 《《If I'd known I would be possessing a body this useless, I would've have just stayed in my prison.》》

she said, tears beginning to stream down her face. Tiodor sighed, irritated. “Get up, turn around, and leave the damn room,” he thought. “What’s wrong?” he finally asked, unable to stop himself. “In hindsight, my life is crap,” Libia said, her voice hollow. “The only people who ever loved me are dead.” The man sighed again. Few things were more annoying than a woman crying. “Aunt Elena always calls me useless. She makes me bring her coffee every morning, then parades me around to her business partners like I’m some kind of prize. Does she really think I know anything important? My dad used to call me his princess, but now I realize I’m disposable.”

A dose of ego-stroking to make them feel like the hero of their own pathetic story. And the best part? When their efforts go unnoticed or unappreciated, they spiral. Sad. Angry. Depressed. It’s pathetic. I hope Alice gets a front-row seat to that reality soon. Let her waste my money and get slapped in the face with silence. It would serve her right.

Anything than whatever was going on but alas! "Lana.." Ellie trails off just as tears streamed down my face. Oh I feel pathetic, sitting here and crying over a man that couldn't give a shit about me. Truly pathetic. "How could he? goodness, this is all so fucked up." She drags her hand down her face, groaning slightly.

But no, you didn't because of one pathetic piece of sh*t you call a heart. Mhmm, I have a pathetic, terrible heart. But still, I know I can't go around hurting innocent people who have nothing to do with our lives. And it is better to have that one pathetic, terrible heart than a heartless monster like you. Gradually, their voices were rising up as they shouted out to each other.

I wince at the word ‘love’ — but it’s the truth, isn’t it? “Yes, that chick pussy-whipped me so bad, it’s pathetic.”

It didn’t match the reflection staring back at me. I looked horrible. My eye was bruised purple and yellow. My lip cracked and dry. My skin looked dull, lifeless. My hair was a matted mess of sweat and shame. My shirt was wrinkled, probably still stained from the soup I spilled days ago while begging Logan to just sit down with me—to just see me. And then I said it. Out loud. “Pathetic.” My voice cracked. I was pathetic. Dirty. Poor. Unloved.

A glaring statement of how others can grind you into dust, physically, mentally, and spiritually. But even with the scars Isla wears on her flesh and soul, she still has a mesmerizing quality, making me believe she’s a damn warrior beneath it all. I need to figure out what to do about the sorrow behind her eyes and how she fiercely hugs her body. I’m sure it’s my son’s doing. It doesn’t take much to capture and beat a beautiful bird until it forgets how to spread its wings. Usually, I wouldn't care if someone self-deprecated. How others insult themselves has nothing to do with me. But when she called herself pathetic, I wanted to hunt Paul down and beat him until he never had the use of his