I Like Myself Book Novels & Stories

I took the note and read it: Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. I kissed thee ere I killed thee: no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. It was my favourite part of the book. The first sentence being the one I adored the most. I sighed, not sure how I wanted to go about my day. I've got to study, yet that picture I found kept bothering me. I needed answers.

“We… we weren’t fair to you. I know that now. Come home. We’ll celebrate your birthday properly this time.” I went still. They found it. Not the notebook, but what it meant. The record of everything I never said out loud. All the moments they ignored. All the wounds they couldn’t see—or didn’t want to. Too late. “I don’t like birthdays,” I said calmly. There was a long pause on the other end. A silence that sounded more like guilt than love. She asked again. “At least… come home.” I looked around my small dorm room. The scent of coffee clung to my worn blanket. My boots were muddy from the last field run. A dog-eared book rested beside my pillow. All mine.

"You are gorgeous, you're smart and you're funny. If no one is going to love you for who you are, then it's their loss." "I'm useless Ice, don't you get it? I've been locked in all my life, doing what I was told. I want to be my person, I want to make my own decisions, I want to have fun, and I want to see life the way it is…I want to love, I want to live" "Now is the time…" "No. Because everything I touch always ended up being messy, everywhere I go, my past and mistakes always haunt me. I am wanted by bad people. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

In the end, the inquisitive one won but first, I listened for footsteps and when I could make out none, I got off the bed and went for the book, flicking its first page open. The only person who could give me a book was Zena but it was also weird, what kind of book it was. It wasn’t the usual one we both read and enjoyed. It was some sort of self-help book and its title was even more weird. “Kicking trauma’s butt with style!”

The color of her eyes gave freshness to my retinas, which were dimmed by color. I chuckled at the seriousness on his face. "I'm unsure if I need to boast about it in front of others. It sounds embarrassing if I feel proud of it." I don't have anyone else to react to, so what's the point? "You need to be proud of yourself once in a while. It's a form of self-appreciation, Elsi." He spoke calmly, walking beside me. I noticed his eyes staring at the number of my books. "Are you sure you can read all these books?"

I asked her, furrowing my eyebrows. “I heard your conversation with Liam. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything.” She replied slowly, her voice was smooth on every syllable. Shit! Did she hear me talking to myself? She probably thinks I’m weird. “You know, I also talk to myself once in a while. I have this tiny voice that actually resonates with me quite well.” She said to my surprise. Finally, someone that matches my level of weirdness. “Really?” “Yes. And sometimes, I’d rather talk to it than talk to people. One of the reasons I don’t have friends. I feel like the best person that can give me advice and understand me is…me.”

I mumbled, getting annoyed at the mere fact that I heard his voice the moment I was celebrating his absence. It made me feel how wrong I was and how Luca's presence would always glue to me even though he was absent. Deciding to enjoy the few hours I had, I sat comfortably on the sliding bench. The bright ray of the warm sun shone onto my skin, emitting a dark orange glow. TINT by Morrison Ishanique was the title of my book, written by a Jamaican author. It was my first ever Jamaican read, and though the language barrier, I still understood a little of every word. It was all thanks to my interest in languages too.

“I never knew he was that good.” I shook my head, laughing harder. Moments later, her phone rang, it was Lawrence. I watched as her whole face softened. She tried to hide her blush, pretending to be casual, but I could see it, she was falling, whether she admitted it or not. When we were done, she opened her laptop to work while I curled up with the book I borrowed from Julien. It was one of those stories that somehow felt written for you, full of quiet strength, healing, and the reminder that loving yourself isn’t selfish. I found myself underlining words, reflecting on how far I’d come.

Because you chose yourself. ...I chose myself too. Nothing else. No signature. No explanation. I closed the book carefully. Some messages don't need names. Before bed, I stepped onto the porch one last time. The rain had stopped. The air smelled clean. The stars slowly emerged between drifting clouds. I thought about every version of myself that had existed over the years. The young bride who believed love required sacrifice. The heartbroken wife who walked away with nothing. The determined CEO who reclaimed her family legacy.

Luminga-linga siya pero wala naman siyang nakitang tao. Who's that? "Even your other voice said it." "Belive in yourself," parang hanging saad nito. Huminga muna ako nang malalim at hindi na muna nag-salita. Pumunta na lang kami sa bookstore at nag-hanap ng bagong babasahin. Then one book caught my attention. Ang ganda nang cover niya mahahalata mong fantasy siya. It's like a harry potter but with spice.