Self-sabotaging Book Novels & Stories

Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the phone. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was hoarse, like she had been screaming. "I'm so sorry, Scarlett. None of it was true. None of it." She was crying now. Real tears. Not the act she had put on before. This was real fear. "I lied about everything. The money. The gambling. The escorts. Scarlett never took anything from me. I was the one stealing from Dominic. I was the one cheating. I was the one who lost the baby because of my own choices. Scarlett had nothing to do with any of it."

Damn, Freckles. The first book I pulled out was called “Images You Should Not Masturbate To”. I snorted, flipping through a couple of pages and shaking my head. That sarcastic streak of hers ran deep. I grabbed another, the title catching my eye: “How to Traumatize Your Children: 7 Proven Methods to Help You Screw Up Your Kids Deliberately and with Skill.” I let out a short laugh, one that came from somewhere I’d almost forgotten existed. Then there were the others—Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself, Do-It-Yourself Coffins for Pets and People, and, for good measure, How to Raise Your IQ by Eating Gifted Children. I shook my head, glancing back at her still sleeping form.

I frowned at Caleb's persistent haunting of my life. After telling Yuna to go ahead, I confronted him. "What do you want now? I told you to stop bothering me." "Harper, I was wrong about everything. Please forgive me," Caleb pleaded, grabbing my hand desperately. I laughed bitterly. "What happened? Did Sheena dump you?" Caleb's face flushed with embarrassment. "Harper, believe me, I love you. Sheena manipulated me into hurting you. That wasn't really me. Please give me another chance. I promise I'll never do it again."

And I certainly won’t want that not until I read enough books to get rid of my sorrows. “ How could she do this to me?” I squat in front of the book, tore into two parts. It is as though my heart…life was torn into two parts. I picked it up, as it was soaking with my tears. “ What is wrong with Sage lately?” she was gradually behaving like Lisa, heartless, manipulator.. best at being the victim. Wiping my tears, I tried to fix my book myself, but one thing I am sure of it would never remain as it was.

The touch was unnervingly soft. "I can accept your obedience, Leo. Dmitri can accept your body. But I cannot accept your peace until I understand the root of the self-sabotage," Ivan pressed, his voice full of strange, powerful curiosity. "You hated safety then, and you hate the safety we offer now. Why? Why did you destroy that life, Leo? What did you do that made you believe you deserved to be constantly anxious and punished?" My mind was paralyzed. This is it. The one thing I buried so deep I stopped admitting it to myself. It wasn't about the gallery debt; it was about the fundamental belief that I was a failure, a fraud, that I ruined everything good I touched.

"I don't know. Maybe always. Maybe the first time I saw her. Or maybe slowly. Over years. I just know that one day I looked at her and realized she was the only person who made me want to stay." Chloe's expression softened slightly. Barely. "You really mean that." "Yeah. I do." "Then why did you keep pushing her away?" "Because I'm an idiot. Because I was scared. Because I didn't think I deserved her." He leaned forward. Desperate for her to understand. "I've spent six months in therapy trying to figure out why I sabotage everything good. And every session comes back to the same thing. I'm terrified of abandonment. So I leave first. Before they can leave me."

She had grown immune to pain and at times I thought she craved it. I wanted to scream, to rage and tear everything apart. Why would anyone do that to Rose? Yes, she hurt a lot of people but that was because she had been so hurt herself and she never thought she deserved anything. She self-sabotaged, she pushed everyone away and she wanted everyone to see her as she saw herself—as disgusting and evil. But she was not. My heart was breaking just thinking of it. She did not deserve everything that happened to her.

I’m the definition of self-destructive, and it’s by the grace of God that somehow, I’m still alive and only a borderline addict. I’m sick. And like my tendency to self-sabotage, I find myself taking the unmarked prescription bottle from the drawer of the desk behind me, hearing the remorseful sound of the pills rattling inside of it as I push the drawer shut. With the closed bottle in my hand, I eye the pretty blue pills, contemplating my choices.

"But I don't have anyone else we can rely on last minute. You've burned too many bridges with all of your screw ups. Besides, this is your very last chance, Charles. Maybe if you're put in charge of it, knowing it's now or never, you'll feel the incentive to get it right." "Do you honestly think I haven't felt that incentive before?" Charles almost shouts, feeling the hysteria rising in him again. What the hell does he know about planting bombs or sneaking room service carts into rooms, after all? "I don't know with you," Amos answers, sounding honest. "For so many murder attempts to go so wrong, each and every time…it seems less like chronic poor luck and more like deliberate self-sabotage,

I said, grinning from teeth to teeth like a child. We walked into the library. It looked like it had been a while, since it was in use. We went through several sections which included, finance, self-improvement, ethics, business amongst all. I caught a glimpse of a book I had been wanting to read, “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. I picked it immediately, and started going through it. After a while, I noticed I wasn't hearing any sound from the cook. I looked around and found her wiping tears off her eyes with the hem of her apron.