Quotes about self-loathing

I am the One, and I see all.But the blind man in Apartment 1-A is blind in many ways, as are all human beings, even those with functioning eyes. They are blind to their folly, to their ignorance, to their history, to the future that they will make for themselves. A future born of self-loathing.

The trick. . .is to find the balance between the bright colors of humor and the serious issues of identity, self-loathing, and the possibility for intimacy and love when it seems no longer possible or, sadder yet, no longer necessary.

I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me.

Talk to ourselves in the same way we'd talk to someone we'd love. Yes, you made a mistake. You're human. You don't have to do it like anyone else does. Fixing it and making amends will help. Self-loathing will not. Reach out to someone we trust--a person who has earned the right to hear our story and who has the capacity to respond with empathy.

When you live with voices in your head, you are drawn inextricably to voices outside your head. Very often the voices work to confirm your worst suspicions. Or think of things you could never have imagined! There are only so many hours of the day to hate yourself.

I've got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn't do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.

Well it’s good to have a car like that, once in a while somebody’ll say, ‘why don’t you come over for dinner?’ and I can just say, ‘Car won’t make it.’ I don’t have to tell them that time is scarcer than young pussy around here, and I don’t mean time to write POETRY. I mean time to lay in bed, alone, and stare up at the ceiling and not think at all, not at all, not at all…

How does one kill fear, I wonder? How do you shoot a spectre through the heart, slash off its spectral head, take it by its spectral throat?

You don't believe that your friend could ever do anything great. You despise yourself in secret, even – no, especially – when you stand on your dignity; and since you despise yourself, you are unable to respect your friend. You can't bring yourself to believe that anyone you have sat at table with, or shared a house with, is capable of great achievement. That is why all great men have been solitary. It is hard to think in your company, little man. One can only think 'about' you, or 'for your ben

I write because there is nothing as joyful as writing, even when the writing is twisted and full of hate, the self-hate that makes writing not only possible but necessary. I hate myself, I hate the people around me, but what I crave is the fulfillment of some ideal.

If you're capable of despising your own behavior, you might just love yourself.

Familiarity breeds contempt, for others at first, but then inwardly, contempt towards ourselves.

Yes, Eleanor loathed herself and yet required praise, which she then never believed.

[T]hou canst not think worse of me than I do of myself.

If the pursuit of perfection is a way to prove our worth, in the end the pursuit will only prove our imperfections.

I was worse off than even Alison was; she hated life, I hated mysef. I had created nothing, I belonged to nothingness, to the néant, and it seemed to me that my own death was the only thing left that I could create.

I am a dumb piece of meatand I rot everydaymy flesh gives a rotting smelland people say it's the smell of lifeand they come to meand watch me rotand get happy and upset and annoyed and disgusted and maybe sometimes feelcompassionbut they don't realize they are rotting too.

I won't sleepif that's what it takesto not wake upas myself

He wished he could be anywhere else and anyone else but Here and Him.

I'm going to Hell in a basketWeaved in from my sinsLike wickerWith little Wiccan tiesAs if I'm a witchAccused

I realize today that nothing in the world is more distasteful to a man than to take the path that leads to himself.

If we internalize every disappointing setback with contempt and self-loathing, a life of solitary confinement and discontentment awaits us. It’s a verdict indicted by a prosecution, deliberated by a jury and condemned by a judge…all three being you. We imprison ourselves when we allow outside negative circumstances and people dictate who we are. You can dwell in that cell…but only you can exonerate you. ~Jason Versey

Personal disillusionment accompanied by self-pity and self-loathing are the Achilles’ heel of modern humankind, representing the weakness of the human spirit.

Why does shame and self-loathing become cruelty to the innocent ?

As incompetent in life as in death, I loathe myself and in this loathing I dream of another life, another death. And for having sought to be a sage such as never was, I am only a madman among the mad . . .

A person imbued with compassion and self-understanding can readily love oneself and exhibit endless sympathy for all people. A person who is unkind to their self can never transcend their corrupt barriers much less run into the world with open arms enthusiastically embracing humankind and all of nature with uninhibited friendliness and goodwill.

Your skin is your skin. Your legs are your legs. Your hair is your hair. Your smile is your smile. Your past is your past. You can waste your life hating these things, but you may as well learn to accept them. Both routes are difficult and full of pain, but with acceptance, you will be happy one day, while with hatred, you never will.

Perhaps the most liberating moment in my life was when I realized that my self-loathing was not a product of my inadequacy but, rather, a product of my thoughts.

I've seen you fuck up one major relationship. I'll be damned if I let you ruin this one as well!

Being here alone with nothing to do, I've been thinking about myself too. Trying to understand why I hate myself so badly.

When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.

I am wretched. Destitute.

I hate the thought that I'm just some kind of Russian nesting doll with the big outside and inevitably, rattling around under all the layers, a crude little peg with a face is the truth of me.