Novel & Cerita Hating Myself Quotes

“I can’t—because it’s you. Because I saw the truth about your mother, and I can’t erase it from my mind. I saw your pain. That was when the realization hit me.” “What realization? “The lies I always tell myself—that I hate the way you laugh, I hate the way you look at me, I hate your goddamn scent, I hate it when you're not around me, when you disregard my feelings, I hate the way you talk to me, I hate it when you stare, and when you read my mind—-i hate it so much that it makes me sick!” Her voice shatters. She bites her lip hard, her body trembling. “But mostly I hate the fact that I don't hate you, not even close, not even at all.”

I hated giving anyone proof that I was weak, and most of all, I hated that Sylas was the one seeing me like this. "I hate myself," I finally admitted. The words came out small and shaky, but once I said them, I couldn't stop. "You have no idea how much. I hate the way I think. I hate the things I say. I hate how I hurt people and then act like I didn't mean to. Maybe I didn't mean to, but I still did it. That doesn't change anything." My tears slipped down my cheeks and disappeared against my arms.

I hated him. I hated myself more.

He did not answer, but remained silent. After finishing treatment I said, "Have you heard of this saying, 'People who love themselves do not hurt others, only those who hate themselves, make others suffer.' stop hating yourself before doing anything serious. You can't take it back even if you want to, so you better catch yourself before you do something stupid." And left the infirmary and cleaned the rest of the windows and went to Tyler's house.

I refuse to be held responsible for short breaths, raging heartbeat and dripping panties. English is my third language, so I am still learning. Please pay attention to the comments you leave - I am happy to accept constructive criticism, but a pure demonstration of hate is not tolerable. Thank you. INTRO “I hate myself for having warm feelings for a cold-blooded murderer." "You're such a fool. Not only are you a freak, an undesirable abnormality, but you are a complete tool. You live with the foolish belief that there is a Goddess who doesn't exist."

“Please refrain from touching me. You disgust me.” Her words cut deeply, but Adam offered no explanation. He stood across from her, and his eyes were filled with self-deprecation. “I know that I’m disgusting. I think so too. You’re not the only one. Whenever I wake up in the morning to look at myself in the mirror, I’m disgusted with myself. “If even I am disgusted, other people must be even more so. “My past self would definitely not want to be friends with my current self. But I only just realized that when a person becomes someone they hate, they’re also in pain. They just have no other choice.”

I didn’t even reαlize I wαs crying until I felt it. The teαrs. Sliding down my fαce while my chest αched like something inside me hαd crαcked open. "Alphα—" Richαrd sαid gently. "I hαte myself‚" I cut him off. "I hate myself more than she hates me." "Then do something αbout it‚" he sαid softly. "Go αfter her. Apologize. Show her you’re sorry. It’s not too lαte. It might feel like it is... but it’s not. Not if you meαn it."

She stood in front of the mirror staring at her reflection blankly. "What are you complaining about huh?" She asked herself, her voice a bit harsh. "It's all you fault, isn't it?" She had certain hate in her eyes and that hate was for herself. "It's all because of you, you did all this to yourself...it's all you own deeds..." She said to herself and her own words were hurting her more than anything, they were breaking her bit by bit.

I hate everybody who contributed to my terrible fate. And above all…. I hate myself. Maybe I'd get the happiness I deserve in my next life. Letting myself fall deeper into the cold embrace of the water, my eyes slammed shut.

I am pathetic and weak, no surprise there. It disgusts me, I don’t know why I keep doing this. I hate myself, my decisions, and who I am. I despise myself, and I can't stand myself on most days. That’s why I am rotting on the side, a walking shell, a doll that needs to be back to perfect health and form so that it will be placed by the mantel, where it won't make any moves. Where it belongs. On display, not looked at too closely, or you will see its imperfections, but pretty enough to just glance at and keep moving.