Self-loathing Stories

A man reflects on his relationship with his family while experiencing a catastrophic wave.

One coranar ago he was released from Mando's cold grip, returning to Ñaltariellë. Her joy at seeing her husband was soon quelled, for guilt and shame kept him ever distant. Ever retreating from her love and care. Now once more she sought in vain to seek solace beneath the tree's silver blanket. No comfort came to her that day, nor the day after.

This is a bunch of fucked up letters I wish to give people but, I never will.

This story is based on true excperiences and events. Nothing in this book is fiction. I wanted to share my pain and my lifetime goals with other people who can relate or at least see that life is diffrent for everyone. This story is about my life. Please respect my work by not stealing from it.

Stacey Pratt is an fictional roleplay character of mine and this is her story;

These are Tanka poems I wrote a little bit ago. Enjoy. If you do not already know a Tanka poem is a poem similar to a Haiku except the syllable pattern 5-7-5-7-7.

"I feel as if my body has been placed into a vice and sliced into multiple segments" A story about battling mental health, life and whatever the world decides to throw at us. I'll add more parts to it if people like it?

A compilation of drunken/stoned ramblings of a sentimental, self-pitying, or self-loathing nature, with a few entries written while sober. I edit them to fix sloppy grammar and drunk spelling. Each entry has what, if anything, I was intoxicated by while writing it.

Was It Even Worth It ? Steve is there. Laying on the ground, at his feet. Bleeding and agonising. His breath is shallow, and the blood oozing from his wounds. The smell of copper is strong, lingering around them. Tony won. So... why does he feel like he lost ? + Shade Of Blue Shades of blue, everywhere, flooding his heart. Tony has his blood on his hands. He has Steve's blood on his hands. And god, he regrets. Shade of blue, shade of blue, was it all fated ?

this is a sorta sucky poem by me.

I'm not used to being sociable. I'm ised to being the lone wolf. Not having anyone to care for or be cared by, so why did this happen?

Just me and my thoughts

I write poems so that you might like me. // Insomnia induced poetry.

Serving as different trips through the wild sides of a young man, this would-be poem collection promises to show the audience different sides and situations of the narrator battling his own demons.