Quotes About Insecurity

What is it about intimacy that makes it so very disturbing?

She hated being a nobody and like all children, adopted or not, I have had to live out some of her unlived life. We do that for our parents - we don't really have any choice.

Mrs. Winterson did not have a soothing personality. Ask for reassurance and it would never come. I never asked her if she loved me. She loved me on those days when she was able to love. I really believe that is the best she could do.

If someone liked me, I waited until she was off guard, and then I told her I didn't want to be her friend any more. I watched the confusion and upset. The tears. Then I ran off, triumphantly in control, and very fast the triumph and the control leaked away, and then I cried and cried, because I had put myself on the outside again, on the doorstep again, where I didn't want to be.

You act out what it feels like to be the one who doesn't belong. And you act it out by trying to do to others what has been done to you. It is impossible to believe that anyone loves you for yourself.

Lovers are not at their best when it matters. Mouths dry up, palms sweat, conversation flags and all the time the heart is threatening to fly from the body once and for all. Lovers have been known to have heart attacks. Lovers drink too much from nervousness and cannot perform. They eat too little and faint during their fervently wished consummation.

If I rush at this relationship it's because I fear for it. I fear you have a door I cannot see and that any minute now the door will open and you'll be gone. Then what? (...) You said, 'I'm going to leave.' I thought, Yes, of course you are, you're going back to your shell. I am an idiot. I've done it again and I said I'd never do it again.

Above all he is jealous of his own self-respect; this is his most valued possession and it would be a real loss to him were he to acquire the respect of others at the expense of his own.

That continuous, unnamed ache I had been living with was precise and definable now. Call it the foretaste of being hated. I knew ahead of time that if someone looked at me with hate, I would have to allow it, to swallow it, because something in me, something about me deserved it.

Once you go on welfare it changes you. Even if you get off welfare, you never escape the stigma that you were a charity case. You're scarred for life.

Sad state to spend your life in. Being afraid of your own self. Rex Walls

I didn't have the answers to those questions, but what I did know was that I lived in a world that at any moment could erupt into fire.

I know what it's like to be beholden to kin, to be dependent on their kindness, all the while knowing they can cut you off with a snap of the fingers.

It is the reflection of my face. Often in these lost days I study it. I can understand nothing of this face. The faces of others have some sense, some direction. Not mine. I cannot even decide whether it is handsome or ugly. I think it is ugly because I have been told so. But it doesn't strike me. At heart, I am even shocked that anyone can attribute qualities of this kind to it, as if you called a clod of earth or a block of stone beautiful or ugly.

We were a heap of living creatures, irritated, embarrassed at ourselves, we hadn't the slightest reason to be there, none of us, each one, confused, vaguely alarmed, felt in the way in relation to others. In the way: it was the only relationship I could establish between these, tress, these gates, these stones. . . .

his judgment went through me like a sword and questioned my very right to exist. And it was true, I had always realized it; I hadn't the right to exist.

I don't think of myself as being a celebrity, it's too mortifying. I have a hard time watching myself on screen and it's getting worse. I can't tell whether my work is good or not.

Always I'm feeling, 'You're never going to work again.' That's going to happen one day, but I hope I'm not alive.

I'm intimidated anytime I work with someone who's directly outside my very insulated group of friends.

Some people can only be happy being a star. What happens if and when the work dries up?

The red carpet is not something I really know how to work. It intimidates me. I feel very tiny.

When I start doing a body of work I feel vulnerable, fearful. If I stopped trusting the process, I would stop doing art.

I don't know what I'm really good at. I'm really good at sittin' by the pool. I have to work at that. I'm really bad at auditioning.

I've only myself to blame for it, my impotence most of all and my weakness. If I do any good work now it will be only by chance.