And let’s be real, this isn’t about love; it’s about supply, energy, validation. That’s the currency they crave. That’s why they’re scrambling now. They need you under their spell, clapping for their illusions, nodding when they lie. But now the applause has stopped, the audience is gone, the show is over. And here’s the truth, my friend: they never thought you’d leave the theater. But you did. You’re outside now, breathing clean air, seeing clearly. And guess what? You’re just getting started.
Now listen, when the narcissist feels you slipping through their fingers, they don’t just stand there and watch. Oh no, they shift gears like a storm scrambling for control. They roll out the red carpet of false promises, turn on the charm, flash the smile, and say every word they think your soul’s been starving to hear. It’s the encore of the illusion dressed up in velvet. “I’ve changed. I see it now. I was wrong.” For a moment, half a day, maybe two, they become unrecognizable: gentle, apologetic, almost human. And you start to wonder, “Maybe this is it. Maybe this is real.” But it’s not repentance; it’s recruitment. It’s not healing; it’s hoovering. They’re not pulling you into love; they’re pulling you back into trap.
And when that glitter starts to fade, when you don’t fall for it like you used to, the mask drops fast. And what replaces the sweet talk? Punishment. The narcissist can’t stand being seen for what they are. Exposure is their greatest fear because their power doesn’t come from truth; it comes from illusion. So when you stop buying the act, they get mean, sharp, cutting, not because you deserve it, but because they’re desperate to keep the spell alive. And if you keep believing the act, you’re easier to keep. But now you’re drifting, and they know it.
So they do what they do best: rewrite the story. Suddenly, you’re the narcissist. Suddenly, you’re the toxic one. And you start questioning your own reflection. “Wait, is it me? Am I the problem?” Friend, I’ve heard this time and time again from the brokenhearted people filled with self-doubt sitting across from me with trembling voices asking, “What if I’m the one who’s been manipulative?” That’s not narcissism; that’s gaslight aftermath. And that’s what projection does. Let me make something clear: narcissists don’t walk into rooms and ask, “Hey, am I a narcissist?” They don’t sit in silence searching for truth. They don’t examine their own soul. That kind of vulnerability, that kind of raw honesty, it’s foreign to them. So if you’re questioning it, you’re not it.
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