For some, it’s even worse. Some new supplies were already standing on shaky ground before the narcissist came along—vulnerable, broken, desperate for love. They were easy prey, easy to capture. So when the illusion breaks, they don’t just fall; they collapse. What began as amusement, as triumph, turns into despair. The truth is simple: they thought they found a prize; instead, they uncover a surprise that cuts deeper than they ever imagined: laziness, financial chaos, lies, a thirst for freedom without responsibility, and disrespect woven into daily life.
That’s what the narcissist offers when the curtain falls. And when the unraveling begins, the narcissist turns back toward you. The hoovering starts. They’ll reach, they’ll probe, they’ll try to swing back like a monkey between branches, never wanting to lose one while clinging to another.
I plead with you: don’t go back. Don’t open the door. Don’t let the cycle begin again. What looks like a return of love is only a return to a nightmare worse than before. Let them stew in the chaos they created.
Maybe you’ve asked yourself, “How did I ever fall for this?” Perhaps you blamed yourself, cursed the narcissist, or even scorned the new supply. But hear me: you don’t need to worry, because there’s one truth you can carve in stone: the narcissist will treat the new supply with the same cruelty, if not worse, than they ever treated you. Why? Because they’re forced to look at you rising while they stay stuck. You’re the living reminder of their failure. You’re free, and they’re bound. And for that, the new supply will pay the price.
You need to understand this: for the narcissist, love isn’t love. It isn’t a partnership; it’s a transaction. The new supply isn’t a person in their eyes—just an object, something to pull fuel from, something to drain dry. That’s why the love bombing looks so dazzling: it isn’t love at all; it’s theater—a staged performance. Gifts, praise, grand gestures—just part of an illusion carefully crafted to secure another hit of supply. A mirage in the desert: it looks beautiful from afar, but when you get close enough, it vanishes into thin air.
Narcissists are masters of illusion. They know how to dress up emptiness with charm. They know how to shape words like weapons, how to choreograph gestures that feel like love. The reason they’re so good at it is that they’ve rehearsed their part a hundred times before. By the time a new supply steps into the spotlight, the act is polished, the performance convincing. It feels like they’ve stumbled into something rare—a prize that others missed. But a performance is just that: a performance. It can’t hold forever.
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