Quotes About Despair

Finally, the lessons of impermanence taught me this: loss constitutes an odd kind of fullness; despair empties out into an unquenchable appetite for life.

Dementors caused a person to relive the worst moments of their life. What would spoiled, pampered, bullying Dudley have been forced to hear?

Everywhere I looked life seemed to be full of problems and they were just going to go on and on. It was never going to get any better.

No one survives life.

I'd sooner be smashed into a mangled pulp by a bus when we cross the street than look forward to a life like yours.

It's hard to describe, but I imagine the way I am at this moment is a lot like getting sucked into a vortex. Everything dark and churning, but slow churning instead of fast, and this great weight pulling you down, like it's attached to your feet even if you can't see it. I think, This is what it must feel like to be trapped in quicksand.

I can only tell you how I felt. Ugly. Disgusting. Stupid. Small. Worthless. Forgotten. It just feels like there's no choice. Like it's the most logical thing to do because what else is there? You think, 'No one will even miss me. They won't know I'm gone. The world will go on, and it won't matter that I'm not here. Maybe it's better if I was never here.

Right before my eyes, I could see my life going away from me and there was nothing I could do.

Suddenly I'm having one of those moments that you have after losing someone—when you feel as if you've been kicked in the stomach and all your breath is gone, and you might never get it back.

I can't tell you what was different this time around, only that when I woke up, I felt deader than usual. Awake, yeah, but completely empty, like someone had been feasting on my blood.

Don't get me wrong – I'd rather be here than dead – but sometimes I feel that everything that, like, makes me up has gone away.

Jakie to musi by? okropne uczucie kocha? kogoÅ› i nie móc mu pomóc

It feels a lot like the strain of trying to stay awake when I can feel the darkness sliding under my skin, trying to borrow my body without asking so that my hands become its hands, my legs its legs.

Maybe he knew it, and maybe that's why he decided to crash into the glass a little harder than normal that day. He would have died in here, only slower, because that's what happens when you're a Finch. The marriage dies. The love dies. The people fade away.

Bright colors don't exist in the ghetto, except for the yellow stars and puddles of red blood that we carefully step around.

Those were the 4:00 a.m. thoughts, when she felt so worthless and inadequate that it was almost funny. Not funny, but almost.

I tried to communicate happiness in that word, but I don't know if it came out that way. All I was feeling was despair. And envy. Envy so thick and so black I felt like I was choking on it.

And now I just want to not exist.

The look on his face made me want to die. It confirmed every mean and low thing I'd ever thought about myself, the stuff you hope and pray no one will ever know about you. Because if they knew, they would see the real you, and they would despise you.

That's how I'm feeling about everything these days: ugh. No.

Wow," I said, and I tried to communicate happiness in that word, but I don't know if it came out that way. All I was feeling was despair. And envy. Envy so thick and so black I felt like I was choking on it.

I would rather have had someone shoot me in the head with a nail gun,

and when you find yourself lost in the darkness and despair, remember it's only in the black of the night you see the stars.

How about this motherfucking darkness?