Hating Myself Quotes Novels & Stories

It wasn't a loud, dramatic fracture; it was quiet, like thick ice cracking under immense pressure. "I hate him, too," I whispered into my glass. Victor nodded slowly. "I know." "I hate Sophia Lang." "I know." "Right now, I think I even hate Thelma." "I know." And then, before my internal filters could catch the words, I admitted the one thing I hadn't dared to say out loud to Renata Cole or to myself. "I hate myself." Victor shook his head instantly, reaching out. "No. Don't say that."

I hated myself. I hate myself. I am filthy. I am full of shit. I was irredeemable. I should be condemned to hell. I deserve no happiness. I am horrible. The sound of my crying rang through the air in the bathroom, but it was not enough to overpower the voice whispering the truth to me. I sounded so pained, I sounded so broken. But it wasn't enough. I was still standing, I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be standing, I shouldn't be breathing, I don't deserve this life. I don't deserve anything.

I fucking hate myself for even closing my eyes at that night. "Hey, stop hating yourself for something that you couldn't control. It was not your fault. You were a kid and I am damn sure that you would have done the same if you were in their shoes. Stop hating yourself, sweetheart," Liam said while looking straight into my eyes. He was right but how do I stop feeling that way? I can't help it! I just... Can't...

Just emptiness. And I hated myself for it. “Useless. Incompetent. Fool.” I growled, seated alone at the bar in my living room. My hand trembled as I slapped my cheek. My eyes were bloodshot from holding back tears I didn’t want to show, and I couldn’t hold them anymore. “Useless. Useless.” I whispered again, hitting myself once more before finally breaking. The tears poured out, and I sank into myself. Why me? Why all of this?

Be selfish for one time in my life. I wondered who would come to my funeral. Would you be there? Happy, that I was finally gone. Or bitter that I am dead. I shook my head and stopped my brain, my heart, those voices and stopped breathing. I was more than ready. But, of course, he just had to drive over that bridge at the same time and stop me. Hating myself, Kiara

Henry shouts my name from afar, but his voice is gradually thinning. When my butt against the tough ground, I kneel while touching my butt, “Aigh!” My tears drip out after I encourage myself to stand up. I feel so lonely, and I hate this feeling. I don’t want to face myself in a dark hole. There is no hope for me. There is no hope for my dream. There is no hope for my love. Fuck it! I hate myself in this situation. I can’t even live alone in the dark. I’m bad at dealing with hard situations. I’m bad at dealing with people. I’m bad at dealing with myself.

Another wave of pain hit me, "So what are you going to fix, Nikolas?" "Imagine the one thing you hate the most about yourself, the worst thing you think about yourself and imagine that the person you love the most finally see it and use it as the reason why he can't be with you." A tear rolled down my cheek, "I am disgusting to him." I said, "Can you see what you've done? You...you made me disgusting." I scoffed, "He is not gonna want your leftovers now, would he?" His eyes widened at my words, "Don't say that!"

Finally the voices start to fade away. Dr Ann said it was all in my imagination that people don’t actually despise me. That they had their own problems to worry about and “wouldn’t waste so much of their thoughts on you” but I was right. I was right all along. Everyone hates me….everyone hates me….everyone hates me…everyone hates me…everyone hates me… everyone hates me… everyone hates me… everyone hates me.

Why do I even exist up to this point? Speaking of wishing I shouldn't have existed, something like "hating yourself" is just too cliche these days. You know, the thing some people just put out into the world because they want to share their self-hatred and the rest do it just to get attention? Like how people can confidently tweet how ugly they are and don't want the face they own, but they have no choice but to suffer in it. Then their followers decided to butt in and say, "No, you're so pretty~" or attack with reverse "hating-yourself" like "No~ You pretty, me ugly bleegh" or some shit. In my case, no one has ever disagreed with every negative thing I said about myself. I guess that's what

This is my home now. My luggage stacked like rubbish waiting to be taken out. I clenched my fist. Pressed my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. "I hate myself!" The words tore out of me loud and raw, bouncing off the shelter walls. I hit the seat with my palm. Once. Twice. "Fuck! I hate men! I hate everybody!" My voice cracked and broke and I let it.