Why Do I Hate Repeating Myself Novels & Stories

“I know I came off strong yesterday, but what I said was true. You deserve better than this.” “A funny thing about apologies is when you say them, you typically don’t repeat the same thing you’re apologizing for. Otherwise, it defeats the purpose,” I stated, folding my arms across my chest. “What was the point of saying anything at all if you were just going to go back on it later?”

I took a long pull from my whiskey, letting the burn ground me for a second before I answered. “That was literally what you said before,” I said, voice flat. “You’re repeating yourself.” He shrugged, not even pretending to be sorry. “Yes. And I’m repeating myself because you’re still sitting here alone, drinking like you’re trying to drown something, and you haven’t told me to fuck off yet. So either I’m right, or you’re just too tired to kick me in the balls and leave.” I frowned, the glass halfway to my lips but he wasn’t wrong.

But more often than I could count, the recall would sneak up on me like a thief in the night, and I would sit there, frozen, my quill suspended over the parchment, reliving the exact moment those words left my mouth. Each time, the self-recrimination came rushing back in full force. Stupid made another hundred appearances, at minimum. Why could I not have simply kept it inside where it belonged? Why did I have to ruin everything with my reckless tongue, slipping so completely at the very worst possible moment? Redundant questions, I know. But so had my mind been these past few days. Just one long blur of redundant reminiscing I simply could not help. Stupid, stupid, stupid Baevera.

I said and he look at me. I looked away, we said nothing to each other again for what took like minutes. I wanted to tell him how sorry I am but I lost the words. My lips were steaved to say a thing. "Aren't you tired of hating yourself?" He asked. Honestly, I'm not. I was ready to hate myself a million times and still hate myself the more. "I'm sorry." I finally found the words. "You don't have to. You'll only make it look like we quarreled, and we didn't. "

" 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."

‘You are doing it again. ‘Doing what?’ ‘Hating yourself.’ ‘I've got good reason.’ ‘Does mate need you to hate yourself?’ The question catches me off guard, and for several strides, I don't answer. ‘No.’ ‘Then stop making everything about you.’ Ouch. Fucking wolf is right.

I'm breathing, but I feel dead. If only feelings had an off switch. If only I could block out the hurtful words, the thoughts, and the feelings. I try to tell myself that it's not true, all the words, all the pain, that it's a chapter and it will pass. But I guess that's a lie; I have been lying to myself. This chapter is not passing. All my life I have been in the same chapter, over and over again; my life is a repeating record; every day is the same.

The forty-third time by: "Maybe if you didn't disappear or go off on your own, I wouldn't have had to call you." The fifty-first time by: "I'll never say I have a crush on you again, trust me." The sixty-fourth time by: "Why don't you just chain me up and give me to William while you are there? You probably want him to take me away." And I just kept going and going. The longer I went, the more tired I got, and my insults stopped being so narrow and were much broader. Not to mention a lot more vulgar. "I hate you" was repeated a few times.

Why I am not strong like others? "I'm so sorry. So sorry. So sorry but I couldn't..." I whisper sobbing. "I miss you...I miss you so much. please come back....your honeybee miss you... Please come back no one love me now.... everyone hates me no one loves me .... please come back" I chock and start sobbing. "Honeybee remember I always with you" "Honeybee alwys remember who are you it's ok to be different but it's not ok to hate yourself"

"We are going as fast as we can. You can come to stay with me; you don't have to stay there." "What difference does it make?" "I love you; he doesn't." "What did you just say?" "I told you to come to stay with me." "No, after that." "That he does not feel the same way about you as I do." "You know what you said, now you going to avoid it." "No, I am not." "Yes, you are." "Why must I repeat myself." "Why not." "You are impossible." 'And you are full of crap." "Can we talk?" "Sure."