Quotes About Self-loathing

Anger can serve a useful purpose if it is justified and directed appropriately. But when it's only a substitute for self-loathing and a justification for cruelty to others, the trigger in your brain can become horribly destructive and addicted to that emotion. It's like a tornado that blows away all of your pleasure and replaces it with emotional poison.

Some days I hate everyone. But no one more than I hate myself.

She hated herself more than she could express.

Constant forgetting is the best cure for all your maladies of anxiety and depression and self-loathing and despair. Rx, Rx, Rx.

May 25—So this is how a person can come to despise himself—knowing he's doing the wrong thing and not being able to stop.

So this is how a person can come to despise himself - knowing he's doing the wrong thing and not being able to stop.

All others are outside myself; I lock my door and bar them out The turmoil, tedium, gad-about. I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all? If I could once lay down myself, And start self-purged upon the race That all must run ! Death runs apace.

Hell hates nothing quite so much as itself.

You hate yourself so much, you'll hurt anybody who loves you. That's it, isn't it? Just to get even with them for loving you.

How often are the perpetrators of hate-crimes discovered to be self-loathing? Valued individuals do not strike out against strangers.

You hate men, you've hated Daddy for years, and the sad thing is that he hasn't known it. And the terrible thing is that you hate yourself so much that you just don't hate men or Daddy but you hate everything, animal, vegetable and mineral.

I still feel the warm pressure of his fingers against my skin. Something is really wrong with me, to want what I hate, to want someone who despises me, even if he wants me, too. My only comfort is that he doesn't know what I feel.

I wasnt kind, Jude. Not to many people. Not to you. I wasnt sure if I wanted you or if I wanted you gone from my sight so that i would stop feeling as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone---truly gone beneath the waves---I hated myself as i never have before.

I wasn't kind Jude, not to many people, not to you. I wasn't sure if I wanted you gone from my sight so that I would stop feeling as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone-truly gone beneath the waves- I hated myself as I never have before.

I wasn't kind, Jude. Not to many people. Not to you. I wasn't sure if I wanted you or if I wanted gone from my sight so that I would stop feeling as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone- truly gone beneath the waves- I hated myself as I never have before.

But when you were gone-truly gone beneath the waves-I hated myself as I never have before.

Something is really wrong with me, to want what I hate, to want someone who despises me, even if he wants me, too. My only comfort is that he doesn't know what I feel.

I still feel the warm pressure of his fingers against my skin. Something is really wrong with me, to want what i hate, to want someone who despises me, even if he wants me, too. My only comfort is that he doesn't know what i feel.

Women and their bodies! The most abusive and toxic of relationships. Masha had seen women pinch at the flesh of their stomachs with such brutal self-loathing they left bruises. Meanwhile their husbands fondly patted their own much larger stomachs with rueful pride.

It is a very pretty beach. We're not really beach people, and obviously no one wants to see this in a bikini!" She made a face of pure loathing and gestured at her perfectly ordinary body, which Madeline judged to be about the same size as her own. "I don't see why not," said Madeline. She had no patience for this sort of talk. It drove her to distraction the way women wanted to bond over self-hatred.

a man who despises himself so much that the only way he can alleviate his feelings of inferiority is by stomping down his wife's personality with a daily stream of nasty jibes.

Even after he was gone, I still loved my father. I looked Norwegian, like him, with a long face, strong jaw, thin mouth, and flashing eyes. And, like him, I was verbal, easygoing, and low-key on the surface, and, deep down, proud, socially paranoid, full of self-loathing, and prone to rage at injustice.

And Alvina the floor sweeper—she hates herself, and it seems she's got plenty of company. All she's losing is her childhood, her future, a worldful of people who will never be her friends. How would you like to trade places with her?

Trust me, I know what self loathing is. But to kill myself? That would put a damper on my search for answers. Not at all productive. Besides, I've become increasingly doubtful as to whether I can die at all. But let's not get into that.