Secondly, control is their lifeblood. Without it, they suffocate. A narcissist survives by pulling strings, dictating moods, twisting words, and pushing buttons. If you cry, if you rage, if you doubt yourself, they win. Your reaction is their fuel. But what happens when the crowd stops dancing? When the strings go slack, that’s when the collapse begins. Imagine a puppeteer waving frantically, but the puppets just stand there—no movement, no obedience. That’s a nightmare. Suddenly, the narcissist’s voice sounds shrill, not commanding. Their tricks fall flat; their manipulation looks obvious, clumsy, even pathetic. They don’t know how to function without control. It’s not just a want; it’s oxygen. So, when they lose it, they panic. You’ll see them rage harder, lie bigger, and throw tantrums like a child desperate for attention. But the more they claw, the faster people back away. The collapse of control doesn’t just expose weakness; it strips them naked. Because once the strings are cut, everyone sees the truth: they were never powerful; they were parasites. And parasites can’t survive when the host finally walks away.
Thirdly, for years, they dodge blame like a matador dodges bulls. Everything is someone else’s fault: you, your family, the world—anyone but them. But eventually, the bulls stop missing. Accountability hits, and when it does, it’s brutal. It’s like holding up a mirror and saying, “Look, this is you. This is what you’ve done.” Narcissists can’t bear reflection; they build an entire life on illusion. But the mirror doesn’t lie. It shows the damage, the broken trust, the chaos, the pain. And suddenly, their favorite trick—denial—doesn’t work anymore. They’ll lash out, blame harder, and try to smash the mirror. But truth has a way of sticking. Once people see the patterns, once the lies line up, once the consequences land, there’s no escape hatch. The philosopher Seneca said, “Every guilty person is his own hangman.” That’s accountability for a narcissist. They’re hung by their own deeds. The reflection terrifies them because it doesn’t show a king; it shows a fraud. And when the mask is gone, when the mirror is clear, there’s nowhere left to hide.
Fourth, picture this: a king sitting on a golden throne, crown polished, robe flowing, but the hall is empty. No subjects, no applause—just silence. That’s the narcissist’s reality. When chaos finally drives everyone away, they thrive on an audience. Without followers, their power evaporates. Attention is their drug; it doesn’t matter if it’s praise or hate, as long as it’s about them. But when people get tired of the drama, when the lies finally poison too many relationships, the crowd leaves. Friends are gone, family is distant, partners are broken and gone. All that’s left is an empty room. For a narcissist, that silence is unbearable. They think abandonment is your punishment, but really, it’s theirs, because isolation is the one throne they can’t sit comfortably on. It echoes too loudly; it reminds them of the truth. Without people to manipulate, without chaos to feed on, they are nothing. And nothingness—that’s the one crown they cannot wear.
Continue reading on the next page
[adinserter block=”3″]
Sharing is caring!
