Wallowing In Self Pity 소설 & 이야기

The drunkenness is bad enough, but the real issue is the self-pity I’m wallowing in. It’s like being stuck in quicksand. The more I struggle to get out of it, the deeper I sink. I don’t deserve her, no matter what she says, and hating myself makes me lash out at everyone around me. I want to pull her close and never let her out of my grasp again, which is abominably selfish when I know what a wreck I am. Mother broke me and then pasted me back together with cracks in all the right places so she could pour her venom in. I am the perfect vessel for her to manipulate.

I caught myself, but stumbled and turned, bracing my back against the wall as I slid down, my tailbone singing with pain when I thudded to the floor. There I sat, half-naked, hands clawed into my hair, breath pulling into me as if through thick cloth… still alive… but so alone. And filled, from the tips of my toes, to the top of my head, with self-loathing so deep and pure, it ran like poison in my veins. I’m sorry. I knew she couldn’t hear the words. Knew she’d never even know I sent them. But they were true. Everything was crashing home to me—all the darkness of this. All the darkness of me.

My arms and my neck burn like a bitch. “I don’t give a fuck.” She says and I scream when she tightens it again. “Look, whatever went on between the both of you, wallowing in here is not going to help you in the least, trust me.” I breathe through the pain and struggle but there’s no getting out of the lock. “Do I look like I care?” “Yes. You look like you care a bucketload, that’s why you are here wallowing in self pity. How about turning the table this time Celine?”

she admitted quietly. “At what?” “All of this!” She snapped her head up, her brows drawn together, then squeezed her eyes shut. “I am a coward—and the weakest link, at best, I’ve gathered,” she said. “What’s worse, I feel like wallowing in self-pity is just another form of cowardice. I want to ask so many things, and I want to be able to…” She blinked away the sting in her eyes as she looked at his patient face, listening so attentively. Her chest ached at the sight.

He leaned in and continued with his voice laced in venom. "You are nothing but a coward. Someone who is afraid to open up, running away from herself. Terrified to embrace her own self. You are pitiful." He pushed me away and left. “You are nothing but a disappointment.” My eyes went wide, I stood there staggered, I lost my ability to think, I couldn't move. “No. I am not.” I whispered, hugging myself. I felt like I am falling deeper into those bottomless pits of ravage and nothing can help me. Feeling miserable because I know his words held the bitter truth in them.

“Then go after her” “Why should I do such a stupid things as running after a woman?” “It is not a stupid thing; you need to get your love back” “I don’t need to do anything” “So you would rather sit here and wallow in self pity?” “I am not wallowing in self pity, I am moving on; now get me a new personal assistant” “Pardon me sir, but you look like shit” “It has nothing to do with Melanie, just the stress from work” “Oh really?”

The stench of blood, the pain in my chest and Amara’s anger all disappear into a thick black cloud, leaving me to the brightness I find in the familiar white ceiling. I fall back down on the bed, my eyes closing. I breathe in slowly then force my eyelids to open, this time, everything feels calm and I'm back to the present. The world comes alive around me but I don’t feel the need to get up, I don’t want to do anything aside sit and wallow in my self pity and self loathe. Amara’s words keep repeating themselves in my head. I don’t know what she wanted me to do that I failed to deliver but I feel terrible nonetheless.

I rapidly took steps backwards and started to run out of the room. I tried my best to stay strong. To not break down in front of him, but I miserably failed! I can't do this anymore. Looking at him is making me weaker and weaker. How could he do that to me? I am feeling so miserable that I am starting to pity myself. The pain is growing inside me to the extent I can't bear anymore. I ran and ran trying to get far away from him. He is just playing with me. I am just a game to him. Tears brimming my eyes making it hard for me to see. Each step getting heavier making me slow down in my track.

Only consequences. The evolution is accelerating. It’s not just reflecting us anymore; it’s anticipating. A new hallway appears overnight, leading to a room that doesn’t exist, its entrance a gaping, dark maw. The walls sometimes… press in. Just a little. A reminder. The house is becoming self-sustaining. Predatory. A literal labyrinth of our own dysfunction, and we’re the minotaurs at its center. Failure is getting lost forever in the ever-shifting halls of our own misery.

I I just did not seem to feel any emotion or sorrow nor was my head going a thousand miles an hour with thoughts of loss , pain , anger and turmoil . I was just empty , the pity party was over and it took all my self pity with it leaving me with pure hollow ,dark , emptiness. I took in an extra deep breath, held it in for a few seconds and then slowly exhaled as I braced myself to live in my newly realized reality.