Emotional Breakdown Quotes

For ten years, my family had called me a jinx. When I was three years old, my dad claimed that he lost a major project because he had to take care of me due to my illness. My mom wanted to buy me sweets, only to end up getting hit by a car in front of a candy store. That was how she hurt her arm. My older sister, Siena Bell, often claimed that she screwed up in her tests simply because I kept breaking her pens. One day, my mom invited a shaman named Mr. Reyes over. After inspecting the house, he contemplated for a while. "This child is affiliated with misfortune by nature. She's a walking jinx who absorbs the entire family's luck." He then added, "But if she has a life of misfortune, you will regain your luck." At first, I felt aggrieved and tried to fight back by throwing tantrums. I tugged at my mom's sleeve while arguing loudly, "I'm not a jinx!" But my mom just looked at me calmly. There was a hint of eerie calmness in her eyes. She said, "Mr. Reyes said that you have to accept your fate. Someone has to bear the sacrifices no matter what." Her icy words doused out the hope in my heart. In a way, this twisted dynamic actually worked. My dad's business went steady, whereas Siena started getting better grades. At one point, I even started thinking that I was a real jinx. But… why was it that my family was haunted by more misfortune after my death?

When my eyes were gouged out, my mother was shopping with my cousin. When I was forced to drink a bottle of acid and died in agony, she snapped impatiently, “Kara, can’t you be as well-behaved as Wendy? If you’re just going to run away, then don’t bother calling me!” However, when she saw the crime scene, she rushed outside and threw up. As a criminal psychologist specially hired by the River City police, how could she feel sick at the sight of her own daughter’s body?

Evelyn Larson's nephew, Maxwell Larson, has been staying at my home for 12 years. On top of sponsoring everything he has in life, I even view him as my own son. Heck, I'm the one who paid the down payment for Maxwell's new family home. But on the night we're having a holiday dinner, he throws me a list in front of everyone. "Uncle Lawrence, I've already hashed out the details with my fiancee's family. We'll be giving her family 700 thousand dollars as a wedding gift. You've raised me for so many years, so you need to prepare this amount for me." I frown instantly. "Didn't I just settle your down payment for you? Besides, Tiffany's about to get married soon. I need to save some money for her own wedding gift." But Maxwell instantly smashes a plate out of anger. "Since she's marrying into another family, that means she's no longer a part of this family! Are you saying that you're willing to give your money to an outsider rather than your own nephew? "If you refuse to agree to my terms, I'll make Aunt Evelyn divorce you right now!" I turn to look at Evelyn out of instinct, only to see her pulling out a gift agreement that she has already drafted. "We don't need to prepare any wedding gifts for Tiffany, seeing as she's the one marrying into another family. Max, on the other hand, is the only son of the Larson family. You should give your money to him instead."

As New Year's Day approaches, a new hire who has only been with the company for six months, who is a mama's girl, calls the police and tries to have me arrested. She suspects our company is some kind of a scam. But the truth is, the company exceeded its performance targets this year. That is why I prepared a million-dollar year-end bonus, a ten-day premium trip to Graceland, and equity grants for my employees. Yet, she waves around a video her mother sends her, claiming that high-paying jobs like the one I offered are all traps. Not only that, she slanders my company all over the internet. Netizens become outraged and call me a scammer disguised as an entrepreneur. Having become the target of public criticism, I simply issue a notice, saying, "The company will immediately begin transfer procedures, and all perks are canceled." As soon as the announcement comes out, my employees, who have just taken out loans to buy homes and just gotten their visas for the trip, are completely stunned.

The day before I am supposed to move into a nursing home, my daughter-in-law, Emily Freeman, cancels the deposit I have already paid without my permission. "It's not easy for Ryan to earn money. Instead of helping us save money, you want to stay somewhere so expensive," Emily complains. I frown and explain that I paid with my own money. Her expression darkens as she rants, "Isn't your money our money? Besides, how much money can you possibly have? Didn't you get all of it from Ryan anyway? "You don't help take care of the kids or do any housework. Now, you're just bleeding us dry so that you can enjoy yourself!" My son, Ryan Pratt, sides with her and criticizes me as well. "Mom, this is such a waste of money. If you ask me, you might as well go to a senior community and get a bed there for ten dollars. Someone will still take care of you." I am so furious that I faint on the spot and am rushed to the hospital. With the refunded money, Ryan takes Emily and goes on vacation abroad with his in-laws. After being discharged, the first thing I do is put the apartment I once gave my son as a wedding gift up for sale with a real estate agent.

On New Year's Eve, my own brother slapped me three times. He stood there, full of himself, and spat at me in disgust. "This is my house. Who do you think you are, coming in here and telling me what to do? Get out. You're nothing but bad luck. If you dare stay, I'll hit you again." He seemed to have forgotten something. The house he was living in was the one I had bought for Mom. The jewelry his wife wore was all paid for by me. The money in his children's hands was the generous allowance I had just given them. My face still burning, I looked around at the others. My sister-in-law curled her lips into a mocking smile and let out an icy snort. The two children stared at me with open hostility. Mom, who had called me there tonight for my birthday, stood silently in the corner. Just like always, her eyes were red, yet she said nothing. At that moment, something in me snapped.

My daughter, Tina, locked herself in her room, crying so hard her body shook. I pried the door open and saw that she was clutching a test paper that was torn to shreds and pieced back together. It was a math Olympiad selection test. She should have gotten a perfect score, but was given a score of zero instead. "Mom," she sobbed, "the teacher said 3x5 is not equal to 5x3; that it's taking shortcuts. She tore my paper up in front of everyone, revoked my eligibility for the competition, and told the whole class not to talk to me…" I looked at the deep red scratch marks on my daughter's wrist and immediately picked up the phone to call the principal. "What good does it do for your school's reputation to drive a kid who loves math to their breaking point?"

It was my honeymoon trip, but my husband's best friend insisted on going into the sea for shark watching despite being on her period. I reasoned against it, as sharks would go amok from the scent of blood, only for Heidi to snap at me, "You're just jealous I have a nice body! That's why you don't want me to have fun with your husband!" My own husband and his other buddies joined in too, brushing me off impatiently. "It's rare for us to hang out! Don't be a buzzkill!" "That's right! Hannah is young and beautiful. She should take pictures with the sharks." With that, they all went down the water despite my earnest protests, and her menstrual bleeding drew schools of sharks toward her right away. When I tried to help, she kicked me in the head, knocking me out and leaving me in the water as the sharks tore me to pieces. While I died under the sea in agonizing despair, Heidi, my husband, and their friends managed to get to safety. Once they returned to civilization, they reported my death as a drowning and pilfered all my wealth. While they rose to the peak of their existence, my parents, devastated by my death, both took their own lives. That was when I opened my eyes again and found myself back on the desert island where they were going for shark watching.

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

The Lombardos' long-lost son turned out to be some "scam-busting" influencer. He stormed into the company with my fiancée, cut me off mid–quarterly report, pointed straight at me, and went live. "Drop a comment if you're watching. Blow this up. I'm exposing a fake heir who stole someone else's life!" His crew dragged me offstage, ripped my suit, and shoved me into a neon vest stamped with "FAKE." "A fake's always fake. Never real. I'm ripping off your mask. If you're smart, get on your knees, hand over the CEO seat, and get lost!" I glanced at his parents—faces drained—and gave him one warning. "You don't get to call me a fraud. For their sake, apologize now, and I'll let it go." The room buzzed. Everyone thought I'd snapped, waiting for the "fake heir" to crash and burn. They had no clue. I wasn't the fake. I was the one the whole family answered to.