Wallowing In Self Pity Romane & Geschichten

Sybil's voice was rising as he tried to understand what was happening with me but I didn’t care about how he was reacting. “I am such a pathetic person… No one truly cares about me and yet I always have a small hope that people do care… I am stuck in an endless cycle of disappointment that I trapped myself in. I really am such a fool…” I was just speaking softly to myself and wasn’t looking at Sybil. I wasn’t really looking at anything, I just felt so distant from everything.

Alex I was a pouty mess. I hated feeling down. It wasn’t a feeling I appreciated. I knew some people liked to wallow in their misery and stuff their faces with ice cream while watching a sappy movie, but that wasn’t me. I was more of a pull up the boots and the big girl panties and move on. I had to stay moving. I could outrun the sadness if I just stayed busy. At least, that was what I had liked to think.

{~~Avery Sterling~~} I stood before the mirror, my reflection distorted by tears that streamed relentlessly down my cheeks. The sight of my own despair only intensified the ache within me. Each tear was a testament to my overwhelming sense of inadequacy, a reminder of a familiar pain that seemed to echo through the corridors of my past. Fuck, nobody likes an ugly crier. But have I ever been beautiful at anything? "Worthless," I whispered to my reflection, my voice trembling with raw emotion. "So fucking worthless."

"I just... don't have a better way yet." Joseph lunged forward, gripping my hands, his voice fragmented. "Are you crazy? You can't take that risk! I won't allow it!" I yanked my hands free, my vision blurring with tears. "Let go. You're hurting me." He savagely tore at his own hair, collapsing against the wall as if his entire body had failed. "I'm useless. I should be the one who died!" I looked at him calmly. In that moment, there was surprisingly no sadness. Only a deep, consuming weariness.

It took only him mentioning it to bring tears in her eyes, “you blame me, Shane, you make me feel like I’m the cause of everything.” “I’m sorry,” he pulled her closer and wiped away her tears, “I really am, I was lost flower and all I needed was something to bring me back. I was lost and I blamed everybody, blamed myself but never you, Flower, after the day at the funeral, I never blamed you again. I have been distant lately because I couldn’t face you, I felt like a failure. Every time I remember that it was my mother who put you through a lot and yet I’m mourning her like crazy, I feel like I don’t deserve you, like I can’t protect you enough. I feel so ashamed of myself whenever I look at

Self pity is not something I have felt before and dark clouds of despair and depression began to weigh on me, making me sink faster and faster into their depths. When everything went dark I thought I was losing consciousness, the whole situation was surreal, even Max snorted at the thought of me passing out in the face of the enemy. I didn’t though, I have been awake and listening the whole way to wherever they have brought me and their words pulled me out of my pity party for one. This kind of intel is priceless.

Grateful to be yanked out of this self-pitying mindset that has become far too normal for me. Mr. Hamrington is right. Why am I sitting here crying when I can just get even

Nyra’s point of view. I spent days in my house wallowing in self-pity. I sat on the sofa, staring at the blank wall where a photo of me used to hang. I'd taken it down yesterday. I couldn't stand to see my own smiling face, looking so oblivious and so stupid.

My vision turned blurry and I hit the couch and closed my eyes, exhaling and clamping my hand down on the sides. “Let’s try that again.” Grunting, I picked myself off and then balanced on the ground before relinquishing the couch. “Good work.” I say to no one in particular. No one at all since my apartment is void of any living being. The urge to lay back down on the couch, sleep the hangover. It’s soft, my bed Is better, but it could work. I jerk my head and push the thoughts down. Wallowing is fine, but only for a day. Self-pity wasn’t my forte. Fighting back was.

‘‘Celestine…’’ he whispered and I shook my head. ‘‘Look at me!’’ I broke down and sobbed into my hands. ‘‘I’m ugly and dirty! I’m disgusting and bruised!’’ The words that I had scribbled on the walls of my heart suddenly became tangible and began to spill out of my mouth. ‘’I’m stupid and weak. I’m just so worthless…’’ The room was silent as I leaned my head on the wall and let silent tears fall down my face before I shut my eyes.