The narcissist is breaking down every day because of you. Here’s what you did: let’s get one thing straight right now: the narcissist isn’t winning—not even close. Behind that smug little smirk and all those fake power moves, there’s a firestorm of chaos tearing him apart from the inside out.
See, every move the narcissist makes is a performance, a bluff, a desperate little magic trick hoping nobody notices the wires holding it all together. They don’t connect with people; they target them. It’s not love, not care, not even curiosity—it’s strategy, it’s control, a sick little game masked as intimacy. While the empath feels from the soul and the chosen ones move with real light in their chest, the narcissist is busy pulling strings, flipping switches, testing people like lab rats. When they push people away, it isn’t because they want solitude; it’s because they need to see if you’ll crawl back. It’s manipulation dressed up like independence.
And here’s the thing: the narcissist doubts everything—every choice, every lie, every fake smile—but they’ll never show it. Nope, pride’s got them by the throat, fear’s the leash. They walk around like they own the room, but deep down they’re one inch away from collapse. That fake confidence? It’s a mask glued on with panic and ego.
The craziest part? They’re suffering because of you—because you slipped out of their grip, because you stopped playing their game. Nothing drives a narcissist crazier than losing control over the one they thought they had hooked. And here’s the brutal truth they don’t want you to know: the narcissist shows this hell—every bit of it. Every silent treatment, every backhanded compliment, every little mind game they crafted, they played it, and pulled the trigger. And now? Now they sit in the wreckage, quietly haunted by their own decisions.
They’ll plan everything like a chess master on Adderall, thinking ten moves ahead, plotting the discard before the “I love you” even finishes echoing. But when the silence kicks in, when the room goes cold and you’re gone for real, they start second-guessing hard. Did I push too far? Should I have held on a little longer? Did I just lose my best source of control? Yeah, they think it, they feel it, but don’t expect them to show it. Because behind the mask, there’s a craving that never shuts up. They need validation like oxygen, like a junkie needs a fix. And when that high-quality, pure attention supply walks out the door—you, the one who actually saw them—they spiral.
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