The Mockery of Mimicry

the-mockery-of-mimicry

I love to copy. I have to copy. It is all I have known for as long as I can remember. It is my natural setting to mimic those around me. I have to fit in, I have to belong and the most effective way for me to achieve this is to replicate everything that I come into contact with. If I interact with an esteemed academic I will listen to his or her achievements and then pass those off as my own as I peel away their glittering accolades and apply them to myself. Should I spend time with an exceptional sporting individual then their record-breaking endeavours will be purloined for my benefit and sported as my own in furtherance of my own belief in my exceptional ability. Author? Yes I have written books too. Model? Yes I do some modelling from time to time. Chef? You should try my signature dish, it is heavenly. Everyone I have dealings with presents me with an opportunity to copy an element of their personality. character or personae so that I may then present it as my own and in so doing I shine brighter and become an even more attractive prospect to those whose lives I effortlessly infiltrate.

This skill at mimicry enables me to ghost in and out of people’s lives. I know the social norms which are applicable and through careful examination and application I am able to pass as one just like you. I am a facsimile of a decent, personable and engaging individual and this allows me access to my targets without raising any alarms. My veneer of respectability has been fashioned from all those that I engage with, gathering patches, fragments, shards and pieces until they are hewn together and I drape it about me allowing me to come and go as I please.

It is however with you that I exhibit the astonishing mimicry of which I am a master. Once I have selected you as my target I have learned much about you already. With what will eventually be recognised as alarming ease, I replicate a fondness for all those things which you like and a distaste for all those things that you dislike. Think back and you will readily recall how I love horse-riding just as you did, that I enjoyed swimming in open water just like you and my passion for the works of Geoffrey Chaucer matched yours. Those interests which were close to you became interests that were close to me. Your appreciation of an excellent bottle of Chateau Margaux was matched by my ability to remember the applicable tasting notes and recite them to you as if it was my own appreciation. I would mimic the way you sat, copying your body language because I know, from extensive practice that this paves the way to bonding with you. I would mimic your speech patterns to form a sub-conscious link between us. I liked blue because you liked blue. I found listening to soul music an offence to my ears but I maintained a false enjoyment of it since you liked it so much. I actually enjoy choosing from the Crustacea bar but your dislike of seafood meant that I too turned lobster and oysters away. How often did you remark aloud, to me or to your friends,

“We have so much in common.”

“We like so many of the same things it is wonderful.”

“We share so many interests, I love it.”

“We are so well matched. On every level. We really are soulmates.”

Of course we are. I made it so because I wanted to be everything you wanted. I took your  long list of likes and dislikes, your catalogue of loves and hates and your grimoire of hopes and fears and I copied each and every page. I am a walking photocopier and I copied everything you wanted in order to ensure that my seduction of you was successful, encompassing and absolute.

Yet, my astonishing powers of mimicry did not end there. Goodness me no, there was more yet to come. In a particularly unpleasant twist to this malevolent skill of mine I would mimic your responses to my devaluation of you but this time it would not be a complete facsimile, I would make a slight change to my copying so that you would be undermined even further.

When you stood there crying with frustration and I drank deep of the delicious fuel you provided me, I would raise my hands to my eyes and draw pretend tears on my cheeks and make a sobbing noise to humiliate you further. Here I was letting you know that I copied everything that went before yet now I copy again but not with the perfection I once exhibited. I allow the sting of sarcasm and the malicious mockery to infiltrate my copying of your behaviour so that your hurt and bewilderment was increased. You would shout at me and I would shout back using the exact words before standing and laughing at you as you burned with frustration, unable to find any response. You might stamp your feet in exasperation and I would do the same but with a leer of disdain writ large across my face.

There were times when you would scream. A terrified scream as my vicious manipulations would take their toll and as you tried to curl into a ball and hope you might just disappear and escape this nightmare, I would lean in close to you and mimic your scream into your ear, creating this fabricated falsetto of distress in order to further your own. Every reaction to my devaluation of you had the potential to be met by a mimicked reply from me in order to further your misery and demonstrate I did not treat your responses with any sincerity or concern.

I am the master of mimicry, the king of copying and the duke of duplication. I am a walking and talking photocopier machine. I put the rank in Rank Xerox.

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43 thoughts on “The Mockery of Mimicry”

  1. I can’t believe we’re both into the same things. I’ve collected us a huge pot of dog shit to eat tonight whilst we watch back-to-back re-runs of Eldorado.

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  2. Darling, your fourth phone slipped between the settee while you were on the toilet, and when I retrieved it the screen light came on. Why is the Google page up with ‘Names of people in Eldorado?’ written in the search engine? I thought WE loved this programme?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I think what hooked me was her childlike innocence and vulnerability. I felt protective of her. After the discard when I tried to apologize and said I had hurt feelings, after a month of silent treatment she said they were disturbing to her and interfered with her other obligations. For a long time I thought she was being mean. Then I realized that she just didn’t have the empathy and capacity to understand the feelings of others and her statement was one of ignorance, not malignancy. Her brain was not wired for empathy. She doesn’t get it and it truly confuses her. I don’t know if this is a lesser or a mid-range or what.

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    1. Fine, she doesn’t have feelings and that’s awful but there’s nothing you can do about it. Any emotional entanglement with someone like this will only result in your destruction. Yes, I too saw the childlike innocence and vulnerability in both of my narcs, and it also affected me deeply. I wanted to protect them both too. But their deeply dark, callous, and cruel behavior overrides that stuff. The childlike innocence is certainly not present when they are feeling delighted at seeing you cry, when they are feeling joyful/powerful when you get rejected by an employer, or when they are feeling irritated because you got a promotion at work. Where’s that delicate childlike naiveté now?

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      1. HOF, I think my apology and hurt feelings were disturbing to her because she does not want to face any of her own buried feelings. Without awareness of her own feelings she cannot understand those of another person. They would only feel like they are a threat designed to emotionally manipulate her. I don’t know if that makes her feel powerful or not. But certainly she has narcissistic defenses of splitting and projection to not face her own feelings.

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  4. Yep, yep and yep!
    In the beginning I would say “He is like the male version of me if there was such a thing”. He would finish my sentences, use the same words as me, have the same mannerisms as me. I’d tell him a funny story where I used the word “cray” to describe a coworker and the coworker (not knowing it was slang for “crazy”) said “what is a ‘cray’?” Whenever I used the term ‘cray’ he would laugh and say “what’s a ‘cray’?” back to me. I would use the word “ass” to describe something. Like I am ASS-tired. It is ASS-cold in here. Etc. He did the same.

    I can go on and on but that is just a handful of a few examples.

    And damn, here I was thinking it was some special once in a lifetime thing.

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    1. I remember now: the weirdest thing ever!
      Visiting a science museum, we came upon an interactive device that alters the frequency of your speech’s sound waves . For example, you can hear the male version of your voice. I tried it, and could not believe my ears. My daughter voiced it: mom you sound like the N!! I was indeed aware that he sounded differently dependent on the person he was interacting with. But THIS, was scientifically mind blowing.

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      1. I thought he was both very similar and very different than me at the same time. The definition of an “Other”. As it turns out he was neither similar nor different..

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  5. My ex tried to mimic my fashion sense. Once, he was wearing these new khaki cargo walking shorts, and i said ‘Oh those are very nice. When did you get them?’ He replied ‘on the wknd, for you i guess.’ I thought it was a little odd.

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  6. Throughout the N period and also now, I look at a stranger in the street and wonder if maybe this could be him. The weirdest thing. His appearance and gestures used to change 180 degrees even in the same day. The last picture I saw of him, I almost didn’t recognize him.

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      1. For me it is extremely disturbing, to scrutinize strangers’ faces and double check if they are not him. It is another key factor that makes the recovery so hard.
        HG, please what are your thoughts about this? Are you acquainted with the theme of significant change in appearance?

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      2. This is the Ever Presence at work where you see is in other people for a fleeting moment and have to double check to ensure that it is not us.
        With regard to the significant change in appearance this is something that we might use.

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  7. So you wanted to be a man so badly that you made yourself a fake dick? What the…

    I guess it really was an inside out cervix. Oh my {>|>{\>, I’m gonna puke!

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      1. Strange that, I’d heard she was spread all over the MD who, incidentally, has a Lamborghini and an appendage that would make John Holmes turn over in his grave. She must be slumming it…

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