Wallowing In Self Pity Mga Nobela at Kwento

Only one person would be stupid enough to come find me when I clearly wanted to be alone. Alaric sighed, loud and unimpressed. “How long are you going to do this?” I took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in my gut. “Do what?” He gestured vaguely at the table, at the half-empty bottle of whiskey, at the way I was slouched over like I was trying to disappear into the counter. “This. Sitting here, drowning in your own self-pity like some lovesick idiot.” I scoffed. “I’m not lovesick.”

WILLA’S POV Regret and self-loathing slithered in my veins like poison, and it felt as if it had taken away my ability to say anything more. Damn it. I was too stupid. Perhaps I was no different from Gallahan, who would let his emotions overrule his logical thinking more often than not. “Oh, would you look at that,” Lewis drawled with a wide, sadistic grin. “Willa is wide awake.”

The weight of Scarlet’s cruel words bore down on her like a crushing weight, threatening to drag her into the depths of her own self-loathing. Amidst the chaos of her hallucinations, a glint of light caught Emily’s eye, a shattered shard of glass that was within reach. At that moment, she felt a sense of helplessness hit her hard as she reached for the glass shard, with words of self-deprecation tumbling from her lips: “I don’t deserve to live; I’m not worthy.”

I muttered out as I felt all my emotions just leave me, tears glistening my cheeks as I pitied myself once again. "I understand if you still think I'm selfish. I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I understand if you want to leave and cut all ties with me. I understand if you don't want me in your life anymore," I whispered brokenly, feeling myself become lost in a void of darkness. I was pathetic.

whatever, I am not going to keep feeling sorry for myself, I've been living a good healthy life before I met him and I wouldn't let myself go down the drain because of a man, I have goals and I will pursue them with or without a man in my life. I just walk, my head is filled and yet still every empty at the same time and I am oblivious to my surroundings, I don't even know we have gotten to her car untill she squeezed my hands, I turn to face her wondering why the door is still locked, our eyes meet and I can see the sadness and pity inside them as they hold my gaze. I didn't want her pity, no one should pity me, it makes it worse for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and actually move on.

Wallowing in fear isn’t going to make anything come out right. I keep telling myself that as wave after wave of rising panic crashes over me. I pull weeds and mutter to myself that nothing is ever as bad as I imagine it to be and then my brain spits up the image of my mother’s wolf crashing into the wall, and I have to start telling myself all over again. I wish once you picked yourself up off the ground the misery would go away, but I’ve always found you’re just as miserable when you’re busy, it’s just a slightly better misery than if you had no distraction at all. I’ve got a good pile going when a stick cracks a few feet behind me.

She stares at me "It's called Self Mourning. Over the course of our life, we lose pieces of ourselves, becoming someone we never thought we'd be. We need to grieve who we were, so we can become who we are meant to be. It is as simple as mourning the loss of a -- " I cut her off, angry "Simple? Chynna, Griefing is not simple. What the fuck are you even talking about. I lost my Mother, lost my Brother, and now you're telling me I need to grief myself. I've lost everyone, and at the end of the day, the only person have is me, and now, you're telling me I . . . I have to grief me?" I snap, and her gaze softens, I hate it, because I see pity all over her face. "Don't pity me, you basically just t

I wasn’t going to do anything reckless. I wasn’t planning to hurt myself. But the impulse— the dark pull— the split-second ache— was there. And that’s what scared me. I curled into myself, hugging my knees, breathing through the storm inside my head. Self-pity. Self-loathing. Self-blame. A spiral of everything I hated about myself, hitting all at once, like a tide I couldn’t stop. I cried until I couldn’t breathe. I cried until my lungs hurt. I cried until something inside me went quiet—

Yes, it isn't easy but I can't deny the fact that Darya is very right. Wallowing in self pity, hating myself, blaming myself and crying all the time will not help me in any way. It would not solve anything. It wouldn't turn back the hands of the clock. I don't have to keep being a weakling and complaining. I closed my eyes and placed my hand on my tummy, finding solace in the thought of life growing inside me. No matter how angry I am, how much I try to fight it, how much I hate it...this is my fate now.

I needed my life back. And I didn’t know if I needed him, but I really wanted Dalton. But my pride was still up and every time I picked up the phone I ended up talking myself back into anger. He didn’t understand me. And if this had been bad, it would only get worse if we dragged this thing out. Or that’s what I’d been telling myself repeatedly. Only there was a little part of me that wasn’t sure it was true. I stopped pacing and stared out the window into the soft spring sunshine wishing I could enjoy the beautiful day. But I was deep in my self-made pity pool. The thing was, I was pretty tired of treading water.