Why Do I Hate Repeating Myself Novels & Stories

" Billie will come around I know she will." " You raised Scorpios." " You're raising one . " "Fair point . " " Please stay for a while ?" " We will but at first light we are leaving . " "If he asks will you give him another chance? " I take another sip of my tea and I shook my head. I said the liquid in my mouth and spoke; "I have given mics for so many chances it feels like it's becoming a pattern that doesn't want to change its shape or form and I hate repetitive patterns but can end up toxic. So not that keen on giving Maxwell another chance to mess my life up and break my heart again."

Because one terrifying thought kept repeating over and over inside my head. What have I done?

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.

“To live in a world where the person you loved most could disappear without a word, without an explanation, without a shred of consideration for how it would affect you? Do you know what it did to me?” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “I’ve thought about that every day. I’ve replayed my mistakes a thousand times in my head. I’ve imagined every tear you shed, every lonely night, every moment you questioned your worth because of me. And I’ve hated myself for it, every single day. I know I can’t take it back, but I swear to you… I’ll never let that happen again.”

Like there was a part of me that always knew this wouldn’t work out and wanted to protect itself. “I can’t do this,” I whisper while pulling bags from the closet. I’m only revisiting the same situation I was in more than a week ago, packing in a hurry, ready to run. Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over, even when the outcome never changes. “Can’t do what?” She stands back and lets me pack, at least, instead of getting in my way.

Stressed “What is wrong with you? All we do is argue, you hurt me, disappear and stroll in like it’s nothing just to talk about sex?” Her voice was growing bitter and I hated it. It drives a sharp knife into my chest, every damn time. I hated myself for hurting her I hated myself for causing her pain I hated myself for upsetting her I hated myself for doing anything near what my brother did and it killed me. I had no clue how to stop it, or how the hell I even hurt her. I never meant to.

She cried, feeling her eyes beginning to sting. She hated that she always made so many stupid mistakes, and this was one of them, "What if I told him everything that happened in the past? I can't even remember how much I told him. I keep trying too, but nothing is coming. With what I must have said, it won’t be baffling if he hates and despises me even more now."

It was a bleak and desperate predicament, for I was acutely aware that Justin, no matter how much I implored or pleaded, would not deign to engage in conversation with me. I find myself caught in a never-ending loop of repetition, like a broken stereo playing the same tune on repeat. No matter how many times I try, I can't seem to escape the cycle of foolishness that unfolds before his eyes. It's as if he's made up his mind never to engage in conversation with me, regardless of the circumstances.

Will she even want to see my face after what I did? I am extremely angry and disappointed with myself. I repeat the words that I said again and again in my head and curse myself. That was pretty disgusting, Christopher! I truly regret each and every word that had left out of my mouth. If it had been in my capacity, I would have taken back every single letter of what I said. I wish I could have, but I know I can't. Now I have to repent for what I did. Yes, Christopher, this is what you have to go through when you talk shit without thinking straight.

I couldn’t. Even if something within my head kept repeating the same thing over and over again— Liar.