Ungrateful People Novels & Stories

His eyes glinted evilly. Lazy people like them should start learning how to stretch their bones and use their hands and feet to feed their mouths. They should stop waiting for a miracle to happen and stop grabbing the opportunity to take away what was not there because he was not as kind as they thought he was. “They’re so ungrateful,” he heard Giro sighed. The corner of his lips lifted as his eye darkened. His face looked more dangerous than he was earlier in the elevator because his company was the only thing that‘s actually left for him.

There is no order in the selection since it's a random selection. I'm happy and super excited to see all these people dancing for my day. However I feel void. I heard a wise saying which says that depression isn't about being sad. Indeed this best describes my situation. I know many will call me ungrateful, because I still complain despite all the love and privileges I have. They might be right because in deed I consider myself ungrateful but the fact remains that I'm not satisfied, talkless of being contented, I don't feel at home.

What kind of a person have I become? An ungrateful bitch. My subconscious reminds me. "I'm sorry guys. I really am. I've been so harsh on all of you, thinking only about myself. I am a selfish brat. I just yelled at Jim and I don't even have clear proof that he's the traitor. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am going crazy or something. All of this drama is driving me nuts!" I throw my hands aimlessly in the air. As I look around me, I realize that these people right in front of me are my ride-or-dies. They're always there for me but me and my ungrateful ass keep on pushing them away.

Susan snapped from her seat, “You’re more evil than I even imagined. Just what did this useless mother of yours teach you? You’re busy causing a stir online, dragging your entire family, a family that fed and clothe you till this day! A family that gave your stupid bones shelter! You sit there now and say you don’t care what happens to this family? To your husband’s family?! So ungrateful!” “Yes, I’m ungrateful!” I snapped, loosing my cool now. “I am ungrateful, Susan. I am! But I don’t hear you say that to daughters, I don’t hear you tell them to be grateful to their ‘family’. I don’t hear you go on about how this family clothed, fed, and provided shelter to their ‘stupid bones’! I don’t he

With a sharp gaze and a firm grip, the boy with a prickly demeanor repeated his question. He believed the woman before him was a genuine pure human, wouldn't deceive him. She was the first pure human he trusted. sarah replied, "Hmm, there are quite a few. It's not worth mentioning." "But there are also those who don't understand gratitude. We have all kinds of people, kind and friendly, malicious, cruel, purely wicked. Just stay away from the bad ones." Upon hearing this, Gray Tail lowered his eyes and tugged at his lips. So, was he just unlucky enough to encounter bad people?

“Thank you so much for everything, you guys.” “You know you don't have to thank us for anything, right?” I said, and Jocelyn nodded in affirmation. Holding mine and Jocelyn's hands, Ivy said. “If I don't thank you, I will be an ungrateful and entitled person. Thanks for opening your home to me without prior notice. I really appreciate your kindness and I will never repay it with evil. You guys are the best.” “Aw, you are gonna make me cry,” Jocelyn sniffled. “Eduardo is right, you need to stop thanking us. Have you forgotten that we are family?”

"Day and night, I work my ass off to put a roof over your ungrateful head and I have never received a word of thanks. Listen when I t--" "No, you listen to me!" I shrieked past the ringing in my ears. "If it weren't for those drugs, I would have ended my life years f*cking ago! How about you be GRATEFUL about that! If you pulled your head out of your ass for one second, just"--my voice cracked and her face blurred--"one second, you'll see I'm miserable, too.

He was quiet. I thought he was going to say something reasonable. I thought, in the specific and particular moment of his quiet, that he was going to say something that was not what he said next. He said: "You are being very ungrateful." The specific and particular words. Ungrateful. I looked at him. "Ungrateful," I said.

Over two hundred thousand dollars of my money, one way or another, given or taken by my family. And not once—not one single time—did any of them say thank you. Not when I dropped out of school to work in Father's café. Not when I married Damien to fund their debts and Elena's gallery. Not when I gave Elena my savings. Not when they drained my account for three years. Instead, they called me ungrateful. Selfish. Dramatic. They taught me that sacrifice was love. That giving until I had nothing left was what family meant. That I should be grateful for the privilege of being used.

"You're every bit as selfish as the rest of them. Why should I keep pretending to be the bigger person?" Padre's face darkened, and all pretense he had for me vanished. He jabbed a finger at me and snapped, "If Lucia hadn't met with that accident, do you really think you'd be living this life of luxury? You're only here because you're living her life. You're just as ungrateful as your Madre!" I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. The hatred inside me was so fierce it felt like I was drowning. But since I was leaving anyway, there was no point pretending anymore.