I Hate Myself Quotes Novels & Stories

I blamed myself; I opened up to the worst person ever. Do you want to know the worst thing? I was contemplating his proposition, and I hated myself for that.

"Because I hate them. Because I’ve hidden them for so long I forgot how to be anything but ashamed." He didn’t speak. "It’s not something I ever let anyone see. Not because I don’t trust… but because I don’t want to be reminded of who I used to be. Of what I let happen." Tears slipped down before I could stop them. "I’m a mess, Leo. A disgusting, broken mess. Every time I see myself in the mirror, I hate what looks back." He stepped forward. I stepped back. "I hate my body. I hate my past. I hate myself."

He said taking back his cola. "I'm not saying you shouldn't hate me... I'm saying...you shouldn't hate yourself, you have the right to hate whoever you want, I'm not stopping you but hating yourself...is something. You shouldn't allow hate to do to you" I explained. "Hmm, are you hating yourself?" He asked all of a sudden. "I...I...donno" I stuttered not too sure...but I'm actually sure I am, I hate myself for not protecting Adrian.

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."

My boots thudded against the floor like a heartbeat. "Who does he think he is?" I muttered, tugging at my hair. "Asking me if I've ever been kissed? That's none of his business. That's none of anyone's business." But he was right. That was the worst part. He was right, and I hated him for it. I stopped pacing and stared at the wall. The poster Emily had hung some glittery motivational quote about loving yourself seemed to mock me. He's right. I had never been kissed.

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.

“Baby—” “You want me to hate you, but I don’t,” I cut in. “I can’t. Instead, I hate myself. I hate myself because I am completely okay with this.” My throat tightened. “I hate myself because I don’t care that my father’s in prison, and that I don’t ever want him to get out.”

who i am. and i hate myself for wanting more anyway.

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

But the more I wiped, the more the tears fell. I hated this. I hated him. I hated myself. I hated the whole fucking world.