Miserable Life Meaning Novels & Stories

Worthless. Useless. Garbage. Weak. Pathetic. Unlovable. These are words that have been beaten into me, literally sometimes, since I was barely old enough to understand what any of them meant. That last one hurt the most, if I’m being honest. As an orphan who grew up in the system from birth, I know all the statistics. I understand that the older I get, the less my chances of finding a family are, and add to that I’m black, and yeah, cut those odds in half.

“Miserable existence?!!” “Yes,” I answered him quickly. “You spent the good parts of your life obsessing over me and what was mine when you should be out partying or living your best life, you got yourself into a mess that’ll never be cleaned out even if the world was to end. Heck, you’re how old now and you’re still after me when you could try to fix your life and be better. No, no, no actually your life isn’t miserable, it’s super sad and pathetic. If I were you, I’d literally just end it, it’s an advice you should really consider because if you think you still have a chance at victory against me, then we might as well get you in a clown costume.” “Get up!” He raised his gun at me.

"If we are talking about this critically ,my whole year has been shitty ... Scratch that my whole life has been a whole lot of what you call bullshit " "Why was I even brought into this world my life is worse that a horror film because it's not a film or a nightmare but a fucking reality" I say ,the frustration at this point is frustrating and at this point me think about how frustrating my frustration is ,is making me more frustrated and the fact that I have said the word frustration more than twice is totally annoying and nerve-wracking because if I say that word one more time I might actually shoot myself in the head with a gun .

I felt good. His absence gave me a chill I couldn't explain or pen down in words. I lived a miserable life there. Funny of me to gink life in Darius’s pack was going to be any different. It wasn't. It was the same thing all over the fuck again. Miserable. That was what I was going to be. For the rest of my fucking life. It felt like I was stuck at this point. Bound to a wall by cuffs that dug straight into my fist with every time I tried to escape.

I didn't know when I started to cry, I felt miserable and I hated life that very moment. There's nothing worst than suffering in this life and being alone.. No matter how rich and powerful you are, if you don't have loyal friends or happiness.. Life will be a living hell for you.. All this years I've spent my life, working hard thinking that socializing and hanging out with people was a waste of time.. I never realized I was digging a home for myself..

No fun clothes anymore. No heels I could wear out. No friends to go out with. My crumpled, cheap underwear was a perfect metaphor for my whole life. Pale, unimportant, an afterthought-something dull and miserable and practical. With a pang, I knew I wanted...well, more.undefinedLife wasn't black and white. Either glamorous Cannes fantasy adventures or drab, never-ending diner shifts and household tasks. I didn't have to live the life my luck conspired against me.

But was there anywhere else to go? What a shitty fucking life.

I suffered the deadly pain from that surgery and had my miserable heartbroken, thrown away like a piece of trash. Finally landed myself in a billionaire’s mess, and my once peaceful life became a nightmare, with several battles to fight along the way. The thought of it all made me wish I had a way I could really pay him back, at this point, my life was at the bottom of it, I had hit rock bottom.

But if she appears, it would be great so that I could talk with her, telling her that everything will be okay. I just sat there for about an hour with my earphones on, listening to a podcast about life. What does life mean for me? I am in the cycle of falling to my rock-bottom to climbing the highest mountain and falling and climbing and falling and the cycle goes on. It is like, I have been destined to resurrect all over again just to experience the same misery. Life has been so cruel to me, spitting me out so that I only exist in my imaginary universe. I nearly fell when I heard someone behind me.

In the presence of riches, the means of making use of it to make me feel better was absent simply because misery was my lot. Where do I go and who should I live for? My children? I'm a big disappointment to those innocent infants and I'm definitely the worst person they can ever wish for as a mother. What would I tell them when they are grown-up if they ask for their father? That they are not of the same father? Or worse still, I was married to one father for my selfish purpose and I was dangerously attached to the other one who was my captor? How would they ever deal with that? I didn't even care to be happy any longer. I didn't want to pursue anything. It was exhausting to do so because I