Why Do.i Hate Being Alone Novels & Stories

She might have bought me into this instead. Staring at the unsuspecting family sharing genuine laughter together was just the worst for me. I felt very much alone and I am alone to be quite frank. I’ve always been alone in this world. It’s making me sick and I decided to move to the next bench just so I won’t be facing the happy and complete family that’s just making me feel jealous and unloved.

I hate crying. “I don’t like it,” I whisper. “I don’t like anyone near you. I don’t like anyone calling you theirs. Because every time they do… it feels like something is being stolen from me.” The words rush out now. Messy. Raw. “I know it’s stupid. I know we’re supposed to be ‘family.’ I know none of this makes sense. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop wanting you. And I hate myself for it.” There.

Somethong or someone always had to come up and make my life a living hell and I'd end duo wishing that if just died in my unckncuous state. What a waste. I remained still in bed, letting my eyes do all the movement and my ears figure out my surrounding. More than ever, I wmated to be alone and not have peioke crowd over me Luke they had been doing for the past few days. I handt been concious but I could feel the suffocation of not being alone at any minute. The fact that I didn't like people that much probably made things worse.

So I kept to myself barley talked to anyone always somewhere by myself I was my own friend. I was by myself so much that I found out that it made me the happiest. I was always wondering if anyone did love me or did I even exist in their minds or thought. I always wondered was it just my mind making me feel like this or am I really just alone and no one had cared. To myself I was a shadow. Shadowing someone that wasn’t wasn’t even there to shadow that I was just so alone that I got anti social not wanting to enter act or make conversation literally having panic attacks when someone I tried to talk to someone.

Had it been with Lucian that she had lost, the one with whom she had experienced the happiest moments of her life, despite his betrayal and the shattering of every promise he had made? Her heart seemed to be ripped apart as she forced herself to talk. “Love hasn't found its way into my life very often anyway.” As the tremor threatened to overtake her, she drew in a deep breath and endeavored to compose herself. “Everyone seems to enjoy hating me. Oh.. hurting me too.” As she continued, her eyes grew cloudy. “It’s okay. Hate me to your core. Get all the hate off your chest and pour all your hatred on me. I shall not insist upon your affection. I'll never do it. Grant me a chamber, secluded fr

The sins they refused to own up to! I hate them, and each day, my hate for them grows. Five years now, and I have not received a single call from them, not a text message, not a single greeting to check if I am still alive. Nothing from them, and I can not help but cry. Each day, I remind myself that I am alone in this world. It is just me against the world. I should have known from the very beginning that it was just me. Mum and Dad were never there for me. It has always been just me from the onset, and it will keep being me forever.

Loud, suffocating, meaningless. The Truth I’m not scared of dying. I’ve danced with death too many times—drunk driving, drug overdoses, blackout nights on rooftops I don’t remember climbing. No, death isn’t what scares me. What scares me is being alone. Truly alone. No lights. No distractions. No parties. Just me and the silence. Because in that silence, I have to face it. The truth. That maybe I don’t deserve love. That maybe I pushed the one person who saw me—really saw me—so far away, she’ll never come back.

Or maybe… I just don’t want to be alone in this pain. God, I hate this.

He asked, urging me to reply. Sighing, I slowly stood up and faced him, crossing my hands. “I do hate you, but I want to do this. Not for you, but for myself. It's maddening every time, and everyday I wake up to realize that I am utterly alone. No siblings, family, friends, or even a lover. Why not end the ordeal?” I raised a brow as I inquired.

“Is it because of the time? The memories? Or are you just afraid of being alone?” I look down at my phone; the screen too bright in the dim light. I feel her words cut into me. The truth hurts more than I thought it would. I’m scared of being alone. He was the only one I had. My parents never cared about me—not really. I’ve always been alone, and now, I’m just... terrified of facing that reality. It's funny how I spend my life making people laugh, especially children, yet deep down, I feel sad and lonely, as if something is missing.