Eyes Wide Shut

Will you ever recognise me as I walk towards you, rictus grin fixed across my face, eyes ablaze with love, passion and desire? Will you notice the way I keep you in my sights as my charm flows over you, seeping into your every pore and orifice? Will you take heed of the sugar-coated words as they spill from my mouth, telling you so remarkably all the things that you want to hear? Will you take note of the phrases which have been recycled again and again and possess the novelty of a cliché? Will you look deep into my eyes and see past your reflection or will you remain transfixed by what shines in these dulled, dark eyes? Will you question how is it that I know so much about you, where you live, where you work, your hobbies and your hates? Will you feel the chill down your spine as I appear once again without warning at a location you frequent or will you regard it as the tingling sensation of excitement and the thrill of my alluring personality? Will you question the platitudes that I issue, like confetti sprinkled on the breeze or will you smile and nod and savour the warmth that rises within you as I tell you how wonderful you are and that we belong together? Will you frown at my declaration of love within a day and a night and a day of meeting you or will you accept and swallow those carefully crafted words without a moment’s consideration? Will you wonder how my hands and mouth became so skilled or will you submit to their heady application and give breathless thanks that they are laid upon you? Will you query how this golden light continues to shine and wonder why you were chosen above all the others? Will you see through the veneer of scathing hatred for those who have gone before you or will you become co-conspirator and sneer at her or at him, disgusted by their lack of dignity in the way that they behave? Will you not ask yourself whether their words ring with truth and why they look as if their very essence has been sucked from them, leaving naught but a fractured shell? Will you wonder why the gifts keep on coming? Will you question the forbidden fruits that have been laid before you or will you gorge on them, delirious with desire and elated by the ecstasy of our largesse?

Will you recognise me when I turn my face from you when you try to kiss me? Will you know what is happening when you are left in a tearful heap on the floor for the third time in a week or will you flagellate yourself for your shortcomings? Will you notice as the triangles are weaved around you and your best friend becomes your supposed enemy, but by whose say so? Will you fight back against the control that is exerted on the way you look, what you choose to do and who you interact with or will you accept it and allow your sense of self to evaporate? Will you understand what is happening to you as you crawl alone into that ice-cold bed, this once haven of sexual congress that now lies like an empty tomb ? Will you realise what is going on as you blink back tears as the clock shows 3am and you have no idea where I am?  Will you stand up for yourself when you are labelled whore, slattern, idiot and fool or will you bow your head and retreat, thankful that your injuries are only verbal. This time. Will you remember what you once were ? Will you remain bound by the chains of confusion or will you break them across your knee and free yourself from your cruel bondage?

Will you recognise me as my hand grips your throat and my bile-infused words rain down on you, spittle flecked hatred peppering your face? Will you dial my number for the fiftieth time in two hours as you desperately try to hear my voice and ask me, beg me, plead for me to come home? Will you wince as another dinner set falls prey to my savage fury ? Will you kneel and pick up the pieces, fingers shaking as you fumble for the broken shards that lie scattered across the floor? Will you know what is being systematically done to you each and every day or will you obscure the reality by praying for that golden light to come back and dispel the darkness? Will you recognise me for what I truly am or will you make yet another excuse, wondering what will happen when you run dry of the excuses and hastily constructed explanations for my reign of terror?

Will you recognise me as I cast you aside, shoved into the dirt and sneered at? Will you look up from the smouldering ruins of what we once had and see her (or is it you?) looking back at you with disdain writ large across her made-up features? She seems so familiar, do you know her, there is such a fog now and it clouds so much. Will you understand why you have been forgotten about as your numbed fingers compose another searching e-mail, asking for explanations that will not come, expressing tearful anger that will be smiled at, detailing your abject hurt which will only ever receive a dismissive shrug?

Will you recognise me for what I am when I reach out a hand and lift you from your broken existence? Will you know what truly is going to happen as I lead you once more towards the brilliant, burning golden light? Will you feel the prick of caution in your mind or will you gladly race towards the promised land once again, concern and hesitation thrown to one side? Will you notice the rictus grin once again as you race ahead of me? Will you pay attention to the darkened glint in my baleful gaze or will you charge headlong towards the paradise,  addicted to its warmth and glorious sensations? Will you recognise me as I close the door behind us, bolt it and turn the heavy iron key in the lock as the thick drapes are pulled across the dirt-smeared windows? Will you notice the sharpened dagger that I have produced and hold behind my back?

Will you stop and glance in the shattered mirror that dominates this place and if you do, will you recognise yourself?

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39 thoughts on “Eyes Wide Shut”

  1. One of the first things I notice from a lot of narcs is that slight air of haughtiness, though it is not always there. Health professional narcs can be the most difficult to spot, as to appear superior does not go with the look. They have a strong tendency not to listen with huge apparent stress levels which is in fact I see now veiled fury.
    The condescending tone is always there though, if no haughtiness as such.
    How would you spot he somatic narc aside from being highly sexed / aggressive? ps HG I think you are INTJ not ISTJ as has been suggested.

    1. The Somatic Narc is not necessarily aggressive Mrs Linton, but would be if a Lesser Somatic. The Somatic likes to dress well, is well-groomed/made-up, places stock in material possessions, being seen at the ‘right places’ and more besides as described in Sitting Target.

  2. Wishful thinking. In a perfect world aka your parallel universe, this is how it would play out.
    But what happens when your machinations are ineffective? According to the law of averages, this must surely happen.. . The world is not your oyster any more than it is anyone else’s… Your sense of entitlement is simply that– yours. people are not just strewn about, waiting to be graced by your presence.. What happens when your silver tongue falls on deaf ears? Do you simply balk at the challenge and simply move on to the more vulnerable, easier targets/supply? in other words, when a potential target is strong, informed, savvy, booksmart, street smart, sharp as fuck— do you really possess the huevas to rise to the challenge? Or do you resort to the low hanging fruit, which is tasty, but less satisfying. Bottom line, like pizza or head, is there no such thing.as bad supply?

    1. I can rise to the challenge if I regard it as in my interests to do so, ie the expenditure of effort and energy will be rewarded with excellent fuel.
      If the challenge is too great, fuel is all, therefore I will dis-engage and seek fuel elsewhere. There is no shame in doing so because I am seeking what I need. I would be more ashamed of trying to draw fuel from something that will not yield.
      It also depends on circumstance as I wrote in a separate reply. If fuel is low, needs must and low hanging fruit it is. Some of my kind, being of a lesser cognitive function, less evolved and less effective will always take the low hanging fruit as this suits their purposes.
      All fuel is fuel, just some fuel is better than others.
      I like your ending comment but would respond as follows:-
      1. Anchovies on a pizza. Oh dear.
      2. There is bad head when you have experienced superb head.
      Thanks for posing the question.

  3. One of my personal Red Flags to narc detect is something that I would never have considered. That is, Instant rapport and actually liking the person right away. Well, hit me over the head with a hard object !! What the heck?

    Anyway, doing a HG (logic and non emotion) in my current year of enlightenment, I could see patterns. As I have an “I am an empath , please abuse me” tat on my forehead, only visible to Narcs, they would chat to me like old friends from the get go.

    Of course, it is normal to enjoy the company of people we can easily relate too, however, of course the familiar patterns that we all know would develop. No need to go on about them.

    Naturally, we all meet people that we just “get on with” quite quickly, which is perfectly normal. They can become good friends.

    So, my Big Red Flag , is if I instantly “Like” the person male or female, just because they talk (word salad without really saying anything) the siren now goes off.

    As always, having to admit these things to myself is very painful, however,it is a method that works. We are NOT weak people, we are just trying to have a life in spite of being told for years/ a life time that we are selfish bad people just because we want what Normal people have, Just the joy of being alive.

  4. HG,
    Go, go, go, go, go shawty it’s your bd
    we gonna party like it’s your bd,
    Gonna sip bacardi like it’s your bd,
    You know we don’t give a f@#$
    its not your bd…..
    If it truly is….then HB HG….💊🍷🎂🎶💦😻👅😗🔗💙👄🖋📚💰😴
    I wish you the emoticons above, with or without a BD.

  5. Well written as always. Someone already grabbed my neck…been there and done that. If you try, well then you are just a copycat. I will go limp under your grip and kick your testicles.

    That all said, I am thankful to infinity that I found you.

    PS. Is it your bd now? Or are you just wishing for a sep bd?

      1. Yesssssssss Come in, Come in said the spider to the fly. OH, the red hourglass on my back? Pay no mind at all. It is rather a delicious red wouldn’t you say.

  6. I have no words.
    This has never happened to me in reality but in reading this post, I was right there.
    You are really honing your writing skills. Perhaps a novel should be in your sites.
    When you can take a reader and they feel the words, then you know you have done your job.
    I can’t believe one can be so dark and still I read on. You have frighten me this time.

  7. I particularly like how this one is written. Though written from your point of view you describe and articulate the Target’s point of view, that is how I read this anyhow. I wrote about what it is like to be enslaved a week or so ago, if you don’t mind sharing, and if not if you read it, I would love any comment from you HG, is this the desire, what I describe the aim, the goal of the narcissist?

    The Convalescent Codependent
    August 17 at 1:54pm ·
    Waking Warrior
    I stare at miles of winding clasped links, rusted and worn from years of trudging through, dark, cold, trenches dug up and covered again in wet cold infested mud, with my bare hands. My wrists are frail as my bones try to poke through my pale taught skin, as they hold clunker hand shackles, pinned assuring no escape. My ankles mirror my wrists only my bottom heels bleed from broken skin, ripped up from walking planks, and climbing up and down sinister pits. I survive, in slavery. My heart, my spirit, my mind, my body is owned, and I give more, try harder, and nurture the beast that rarely feeds me. I have heavy burdens and countless responsibilities to tend to. I succumb graciously licking my wounds privately. I function rather well, considering, I juggle and manage to catch every ball thrown at me. I am not sure where I get the energy but I discovered long ago, there is a reservoir in the deepest parts of my being, and I accomplish all that I am asked of, tasks that normally require partners even teams to complete. I forgive all my masters and provide comfort, it’s detriment to my survival to do so, I cannot fall apart. I must carry on, and the bigger picture is of importance, not my own needs, besides I’d loose countless nights of sleep over added conflict, better to let go (of me). My role is to walk a fine line and to continue to function at this level, I have to choose my battles carefully. I am surrounded by many others, however I am left alone, they carry on around me, about me, not or alongside of me. It appears we interact, we dance it’s true, we eat and are merry, but if you look closely you’ll see me, tying the shoes, cooking the meals, pouring the drinks, cleaning the mess, I am to be of service, this is what I was trained for. I lift heavy jagged blocks high above my head and place them on shelves, I dig deep holes to hide secrets in, I bust my brow in scorching heat, burning my skin and dressing my injuries. I run miles in storms, with little cover from pounding rains, I walk ever so cautiously on black ice, praying I don’t slip and break my neck. I know conditions I cant speak of, I handle emotions most medicate with booze, sex, or drugs over. Day in and day out I turn my cheek as the razor slices skin open, and I manage a smile while doing so brings about indescribable agonizing pain, and find myself on my skinned knees looking up with so much love and devotion, loyalty and thankfulness. Then one day in the still of the night, a sword came down upon me and cut the clamps against my flesh, and slashed every link on my chains. Hands began to take a needle and thread and sew up the splits and deep crevices of my heart, and one morning I awoke to the most beautiful pair of wings I had ever even imagined! I heard a sound behind me, and a small voice whisper, “You were never meant to be a servant, you were born to be a warrior.” Dawn fell upon my face and I it was then I knew, I had not withstood such treacherous circumstances because I was weak, I had survived torture, because I was made for war! No wonder I had been captured and kept at such a young age, and now look, I’ve been let of the cage! I grabbed my wings and flew as fast as I could before I convinced myself it all had been a dream, not knowing where I would go, and how the hell I would land.
    As I flew, I discovered something else, I was not alone, there were others out there like me, and I needed to tell them, YOU ARE NOT WEAK, YOU ARE STRONG, YOU ARE SO STRONG, YOU ARE A THREAT, BUT YOU WERE NOT MEANT TO BE KEPT.

    1. Very good CC. In terms of whether this is the goal of the narcissist, do you mean the condition you are in prior to the cutting of the chains? Or do you mean that this is how my kind are and we seek escape in the manner that you have described?

      1. Thank you HG, I do believe, and even more so after I read your work, it is ideal for that of your kind, to have a slave, who always knows her place, who works to the bone, falls to her knees at your presence, and tells herself, these chains are for my own good, they are of love, and I ought to be thankful, and anytime I feel any different I must punish myself with guilt and shame, and continue to look to my master with adoring eyes. It amazes me how at one time I took on this role for so many years, loyal to serve and even some how found a way to convince myself to be lucky to be his servant, how I relished in it, took actual pride in it, and continued to perfect that role coveting to be the perfect little servant for him, to make him proud, oh yes I was most definitely ensnared, and completely controlled.

      2. Not even a little bit? I think my ex made many comments alluding to this, however if I confronted it, I was immediately chastised. He could say anything, do anything, I could not, I was trained to laugh at his chauvinistic outlook, acknowledge he was joking outwardly, yet know inwardly he was completely serious. He would even announce some of these beliefs to friends around us, especially strong female friends of mine. One time he put his arm around my girlfriend while sitting at a table a gathering for my birthday and leaned in real close and said into her ear..”Don’t you even think about putting ideas in to (my name’s) head. It was so intense it took everything for her not to cry, I had no idea, I missed the whole interaction, I have been learning more and more of the things I did not see.

      3. It is often the case that the manipulation is so outrageous that you completely lose sight of the fact that it is manipulation CC. Hiding in plain sight.

  8. The Emile Sande song played through my mind. As I read this. So many red waving flags before our closed eyes.

    Will you recognize me
    When I’m lying on my back?
    Somethings gone inside me
    And I can’t get it back

    We often do recognize it. But we fail to see it. Until we do. Then it is too late.
    Then I’m gone.

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