Hating Myself Quotes Novels & Stories

That would really be nice. Okay I need to stop. I think I'm hating on myself a bit too much. I really shouldn't. Maybe I should? It's not healthy but I can't help hating on myself. I honestly can't. It all just comes so organically. Time to shut up now. ….

She taunted, both mother and daughter laughing evilly on their way out. I promise it's not them I hate. I sincerely hate myself for being this weak. I'm so pathetic, and it's a big shame. I have practically paid back these people with my life. How can I just let them walk all over me again? Isn't that a terrible fate? Even when freedom rests solely on my shoulders, I still can't give it to myself. The tears rolled down uncontrollably now. I sat on the cold floor, crying my eyes out. I might as well end it all.

He bellows, "all those years I spent hating myself and calling myself all those disgusting names scarred my heart, mind and soul and now my body is healed but my heart is still wallowing in that misery and that part is my fault." "What I'm saying in essence is that you can cry all you want, hate the situation all you want and it's normal that you do because it was a terrible thing what happened to you but do not hold onto it too long hence, you ruin yourself even more than you think those fuckers ruined you."

I was constantly on guard, trying to avoid his wrath, trying to make myself invisible. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape his hatred. It followed me everywhere, a dark cloud that hung over me, casting a shadow over my life. I felt like I was living in a nightmare, a never-ending cycle of fear and anxiety. And the worst part was, I didn't know why he hated me. Was it something I had done? Was it something I was? I didn't know, and the not knowing was almost worse than the hatred itself. The words echoed in my mind like a haunting refrain, a constant reminder of my own perceived worthlessness. "My cursed self" - the phrase became a toxic mantra, a self-fulfilling prophecy that r

She licked her lips, “I hate myself…There was something that occurred to me once. There was a voice deep inside me. It told me something. Something I hated. Something I hate myself for because I found myself ageing with it.” “What did it say?” I asked her. “It said, ‘It’s better that she’s gone. Otherwise, she would’ve become another Lina.’” She slammed her fist over her chest, “I was no one. I am no one. I was a slave. Even if my daughter were alive, someone would’ve taken her away because she was daughter of a whore. Me.” She lifted her eyes and met mine, “When I look at you, I hate myself. You’re everything, I was not. You fought for yourself when I gave up. You still fight when I resigne

The urge to just close my mouth and sleep here in this comfortable bed was right there, but I reeled it in. This needs to be addressed and I won’t get better unless I talk about it. “I don’t know,” I repeat, “All I know is I hate myself. For allowing it to happen. For leaving them. For relying on someone else to help them. For not doing enough. For only thinking of myself. I hate it. I hate that I allowed it. I hate me.”

I hate myself. Countless times she had cried, pleading for me to believe her and save her from the immense torture she was buried in, but I had emotionlessly ignored her. I hate myself. I had considered everyone’s words regarding the incident of my father’s death, forgetting that her words mattered the most. — forgetting that she truly loved me too much to want to hurt me that way, and in reaction, I had called her a murderer. I had broken her heart… I fucking hate myself! I motioned to smash something now, but then I timely stopped myself from doing so. I was all alone in a room now, so I didn’t want to make noise and destroy anything because the room wasn’t mine. It was hers.

There’s nothing I can do when I myself is a willing victim to be fucking used. “I can’t do anything about it. They won’t believe us,” I told them, before getting all my stuff to finally get dressed. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I feel so fucking dirty, but my mind kept on reminding me that this was my own doing. I made myself do this for power. I hate who I become. And I’m sure as fuck that I will hate who I am going to be.

Our closed expressions to each other translated perfectly our hatred of each other. I went home with my mother and couldn't get the last events out of my mind. And even after a cup of tea and a long bath I couldn't, I took off my father's necklace and put it in my drawer. I spent a long time looking at myself in the mirror, trying to notice if I looked ugly or beautiful for that stranger to hate me so much and for free. I didn't find any serious defects and I wasn't that ugly! - Oh, the hell with him! I don't need anyone to like me! Especially not a man! - I said this sentence to myself, and even though I didn't believe it, it made some sense.

"It's okay to cry, Darling." Lilie I hate myself. I feel that no matter what I do to bathe or rub my body, his hands are still here. His hands I do not want to feel his hold. I don't like this anymore. With each passing day, I only become more and more self-loathing. This is how I always feel about myself. Disgust, anger, all I can do is hate myself, even more "I'm disgusting, I'm disgusting," I whispered repeatedly while punching myself. I hurt every part of my body. I just want to be numb.