I'm Loser Novels & Stories

Damien's POV Never in my wildest dream have I ever imagined life to be this sorrowful for me and depressing. I feel like a real loser for once in a while. I have always rejoiced in the delight of being a winner in virtually everything I do, but I take rejection and failure the hard way. I beat myself up for whatever failure I get.

Neither of us said what the letter was or who it was to, because we both already knew and saying it out loud would have changed the specific quality of the morning, which was working as it was. "Try shorter," I said. He looked at me. "Whatever you're trying to say," I said. "Try saying it in fewer words. You overthink the long version." Something moved across his face. "Is that a professional opinion?" "I teach English composition. Yes." The corner of his mouth moved. "I'll try that." He refilled my coffee without asking.

It was the kind people wore when they'd already decided your fate. “You think this is a joke?” "No. I think you're a joke." He was now standing a foot away from me. I didn't bother about the nickname, all I wanted to do was scratch off that smile off his face. Of course I'm a joke because I'm Karel. The guy who gets beaten for money. The guy who never got good grades and the guy who… whatever. “What's the price?" I clenched every part of me and looked away. “What you did that night.” His smirk was slow.

over his shoulder as he walked away with his friends. ​I thought I was earning my way into his heart. I thought if I made myself indispensable, he would eventually realize he couldn't live without me. Ten years later, standing in the empty, silent lobby of The Willmore Hall, I realized I had succeeded—but not in the way I wanted. I was indispensable like a piece of furniture. You only notice it when it's missing, but you never think to say thank you to a chair. I didn't bother asking the receptionists any questions, I knew I had been tricked but not by Jamie.

"What’s gonna be a mess?" "My life." I responded tears welling up in my eyes "My whole fucking life." "Everything around me seems to be a mess. What I do, what I want, every single thing is a mess. No one wants to be with me, everyone wants to get away from me and I understand that because I’m a loser." I sniffed the tears that were threatening to fall "No one wants to be with a loser. I know you don’t Ashton so please." I begged him as try not to cry in front of him.

I whispered that demons name while biting my nails. I don't want to lose to someone like him. I don't want him to show other people that I am the loser between the two of us. I have to find something wrong with that person because if there isn't... shit! I don't want to lose! In all my life I have never lost!

Meghaal loved dressing up but she always thought her plain looks and chubby face would make whatever she wore too awkward to pull off. "You look beautiful, the black suits you trust me. And the eye liner! You slay." Mikkel mimicked her with equal enthusiasm to be shoved on the shoulder by a pouting Meghaal, which made him chuckle. "Don't worry Meh you look cute. Honest." A small smile painted across her face. Meghaal had never been confident in her body image. She was too fat to be thin and thin to be thick and she was really fine with her size, yet it was her chubby face that haunted her self-confidence. Mikkel always thought she looked cute, and her personality just made that evident cuten

I still had a use for it. I held up the bag and waved it in front of the camera. The viewers thought I was putting on an act. The chat was filled with nothing but strings of censored curse words. You could tell how nasty the comments were. However, I did not care one bit. I displayed my medical records directly. "I know you won't believe anything I say, but don't let someone with ulterior motives manipulate you into becoming their weapon. "I'm not the first person she's slandered. If you keep enabling her to do evil, then what's happening to me now will happen to you too.”

They just clattered off and fell to the ground. After a moment, a slow, sad smile touched her lips. A smile. As if I were a toddler throwing a tantrum in a supermarket. She said, “Stanley, you know what? You are a loser, and losers have no place in the world.” Then, she turned again, and this time, she walked away. She didn’t look back. She just disappeared through the door, leaving me alone with my echoing screams, my face pressed against the unbreakable glass, a monster in a cage, completely and utterly powerless. The beast was roaring, but the world had stopped listening.

He jumped, doing as he's told. Loser. A voice inside of me said. Sore loser. I shake the thought away immediately. I am a sore loser, in fact, I am not a loser. I never lost in a bet before—hell, I haven't even lost in a hand combat. But Lucas was good and I hate to admit it in his face so I continued to be mad at everything else.