The narcissist’s collapse is not the dramatic spectacle people expect. It is a quiet unraveling—a war waged behind a smile, a death of a self that was never real to begin with. And when it happens, they’re not surrounded by comfort or grace; they’re alone with nothing but echoes of the power they once stole, the people they once used, and the love they never learned how to feel.
You may be healing; you may be rising. But they are trapped in a loop that only goes in circles. That is the real collapse—not loud or explosive, just endless. And that, my dear survivor, is their worst karma.
If you have witnessed what I’m talking about, let me know in the comments. I have witnessed it with my grandfather, and I can tell you there’s nothing uglier than that.
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