A Letter To the Narcissist – No. 49

Dear Mr. Mediocre,

Oh, come on now – let’s stop pretending you’re offended by the way I addressed you. I mean, after all that is in fact what you strived for.  I must admit it continues to baffle me.  For someone as intelligent as myself I never could wrap my mind around the idea that someone would strive to be average and actually be content coasting toward a whole bunch of nothingness.

When I first met you I thought you could be special.  Little did I know just how disappointing you would turn out to be – but at one point I saw something in you that caught my attention. Let me add that it is extremely difficult to catch my attention.  Well, you were weird and I was on the hunt for something new and exciting to become fixated on.  That reptilian stare gets me every time doesn’t it? I know it gets you too.  I mean after all you were mesmerized by those big green eyes that were full of intensity and made you feel as if you mattered.  I hunted you down.  I chose you.  Oh at first you lapped it all up.  You lived for the high I gave you.  It was entertaining to watch you play all coy with me.  I even thought it was cute how you would take different routes around the building just so you could get a glimpse of me.  You even started to keep deodorant in your desk.  I know how you would wait in anticipation on certain days when you knew I would be around – hoping… that I would come by your room and grace you with my presence.  Remember when I used to hide notes under your car handle and how excited you were to find them?

You were completely entranced and  taken with me …but were hesitant to give into me. You questioned my motives and even insinuated that I was a “man-eater”.

Well, I figure there’s no point in keeping that charade up any longer because after all we aren’t playing a game anymore.  Since I’m not seducing you lets keep this direct and simple.  You don’t deserve anything flowery or poetic. I told you everything you wanted to hear.  I reflected back the perfect partner – so much so that I actually almost believed it.  I was so generous I even let you feel as though you were in control.  In the haze of infatuation I actually believed I could make those sacrifices because I would get everything I wanted in return and more.  I tried to be myself, I really did but you wouldn’t allow it.  You constantly rejected it as if you were above me when I was the one who was doing a favor by dating you.  I was the unique one.  I was the charismatic, charming, intelligent, beautiful one out of the both of us.  Sadly, you are dumber than I thought.

You really are beneath me. How could you not have enough sense to recognize that I am the best you will ever have in your life?  I recognize now you can’t help the fact that you are so simple minded – or a “simple tool” as your mother called you.  You would have been content with a peasant because you are a peasant.  To add insult to injury you are a closeted homosexual.  Now, I had a feeling you were bisexual since I spied on many of the things you did.  I was okay with that.  I could have accepted you if you had just allowed me to be myself and appreciated the greatness that was right in front of you.  You just had to shove your common – average – boring – insipid ideas and traits on me and couldn’t bring a single thing to the table.  I was under the impression if I kept giving you what you wanted I’d get what I wanted but as usual you fucked up and couldn’t do anything I asked of you.  It’s pathetic really.  You couldn’t even fake anything properly.  You should have been proud of the fact I not only had my masters but I achieved my doctorate and even managed to get published while dealing with your theatrics.  I am a reflection of you – you idiot.  You should have been happy to brag about me. You never respected me – even in regards to my profession.  It’s confusing because I was the one who had the people skills that saved you every single time you got sloppy and made yourself look like the loser you really are.

You really weren’t good for anything Other than getting on your knees and servicing me.  Try not to get a hard on from that line.  I know how much you love it when I make you feel like the loser you are. You don’t get to get away with all of the whining and pushing weird sexual shit on me – basically making me feel as though I were a prostitute – no.  You now have to sit there and listen to me calmly tell you what a nobody you really are. I’m doing you a favor.  You should know the truth about yourself.

Did you honestly believe I didn’t know the majority of the bullshit you pulled? I loved toying with you.  It was hilarious puppetting you around. You never knew how to handle me.  The look of panic on your face was priceless when I would drop hints I knew you were hiding things from me.

You never met my friends and didn’t know about the existence of many of them. You thought I didn’t have any.  The truth is that you would just make me look bad.  You wouldn’t even try to engage anyone in conversation because you have absolutely nothing to contribute other than sports statistics, beer, and your extensive  knowledge on big dick dating websites, small penis humiliation, and bareback tranny porn.  It evades me what I ever saw in you.

Things aren’t always what they seem.  I’m the most honest liar you will ever meet. You never knew me.  We were both strangers parading around as if we were in a relationship.  I even fed you lies at times to see if you would betray me and you did.  You never had my back.  I couldn’t tell you anything. You were a Benedict piece of shit through and through.  I’m beginning to get bored writing this letter.  That is how much you don’t stimulate me.  I figured I’d be kind enough to give you some closure since I basically vanished from your life because I just didn’t care enough to provide you with any real explanation.

I’ll never tell you all the things I know about you.  What’s the fun in that? It’s so much more exciting when everyone knows but you.
I sleep easy knowing that I don’t have to do anything to destroy you.  You do the work for me.  You aren’t worth the energy – that would require me to care and I just don’t.  Its unfortunate for me that I wont ever get the pleasure of seeing you crumble as I say all of these words to you in that apathetic and condescending tone you despise so much.  No need for anymore words.  I have nothing left to say.  I still stand by my silence.  That was the best way to deal with you.  I had to remind you that you don’t matter and I did.

Never yours,
Dr. H. Q. Somebody