A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 81

A LETTERTO THENARCISSISTSJS'S LETTER

Dear Esteemed Swine and Purveyor of Poison:

I know what you are, you worthless bag of filth.  I’m not nearly as stupid as you think I am.   I know you believe you are omniscient, the all-knowing, all-seeing God-Man, A Prince among Princes, King of Time, Space, and Cock of the Walk at hick town country clubs.  You lured me in…yep, I fell for your textbook line of Narcissistic spew.  I fluttered my lids at your compliments and marvelled at all those wonderful things we seemed to share. (“Wow, we have so much in common!”)   I was hypnotized by your claptrap and piffle, even while red flags danced and bells went off in the back of my brain.  The angel on my right shoulder whispered that you were lying and were not what you appeared to be, but Lucifer, firmly lodged on my left shoulder, recognized you as his brother and convinced me you were “the real thing.”  I wince when I think I handed over to you my innate dignity, my self-worth, and my self-respect and let you string me along like a dog-eared puppet.  How dumb could I be?  I served you my pride like a platter of scrambled eggs.  I cringe at my weakness.

You spineless worm.  You vulgar maggot. You’re a jerk, a cad, and a weasel.  You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

I felt I hit rock bottom when you started the devaluation and depreciation of me, as if I was an old Buick ready to be put up on blocks.  I remember the last day you were in my house…I was wary.  See, even in my ignorant and confused state, I knew, I KNEW something was not quite right and it was pissing me off!  I was guarded and slightly aloof.   While not using outright insults, you fired a few little shots toward my bow that went straight to the heart.  And I let you…I let you talk to me like that IN MY OWN HOME!   IN MY HOME!!  How could I let you do that?  How could I do that to myself? I openly invited you to humiliate me.  But I did not give you one reaction at the time.  I waited until you finally left before I cried.

You puke-drooling beast.  You canker on a sow’s ass.

 I may have cried, but died?  Nope. Uh Uh. I’m still here, you jargon spouting lout, because I decided to relinquish the role of being your victim in order to become a survivor.  You two-bit monster, you ogre, you fungus.  Even before I knew what kind of creature you were, my survival instincts kicked in and I blocked you on my phone. I quit looking at your social media. I avoided you like the plague-infested rat you are.  Have you tried to contact me? I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Not knowing gives me strength, for some perverse reason.  I’ll admit I had a relapse when I saw your vehicle in a place I didn’t expect it to be. (Even though this is my hometown, I have been avoiding every familiar and convenient place that I had been going to for decades just so I would not see you!)  But I fought back. I slogged my way out.   I don’t want to ever see you again.  I don’t want to be within 100,000,000 miles of you.  I don’t want to run into you or see you in a social setting. I don’t want to pass you on the road.  I don’t want to breath the same air molecules as you do.  Your cooties are too toxic.

You are a waste of flesh, ridiculous and obnoxious, the moral equivalent of a leech.  You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void, a disease.

Yet, I do need to thank you for a few things.  Besides discovering what Narcissism is, I made an effort to remain busy and, therefore, keep my mind occupied, I embarked on an intense and advanced Pilates program and a walking regime of 6 miles a day. As a result, I lost 10 pounds, my abs are tight as a drum, and my ass is as rock hard as 18 year old’s.  You will never get your paws on it, though.  I’m saving that for a real man that deserves it. I realize I’m just an appliance, though.  But I am State of the Art compared to you.  I could be the Grand Prize on Let’s Make a Deal.  You are ready for the landfill or a garbage scow. 

 You are deficient in all that lends character.  You are dank and filthy.  You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go, you grimy, squalid troll.

Speaking of looks, let’s turn a critical, unbiased glance at your appearance.  Adonis you may consider yourself to be, but I don’t think Tom Selleck has anything to worry about as far as competition from you is concerned.  In fact, when I first met you, I recall thinking, “Why do all guys in this profession look alike?”  I like to remind myself of how I was NOT bowled over the first day we met.   Seriously, dude, you do know you are bald, don’t you?  I mean, I know it is the badass thing now to shave your head like The Rock, but that doesn’t alter the fact that you have lost your hair and are officially categorized as BALD.  Suck on that, Baldy.  Also, your jawline hints of an incipient slackness that awaits you in the near future.  And that body that you preen so fondly is kind of beefy…you know, the type that will chub out in just a few years.  Your legs are stubby. 

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You have all the appeal of a leper.  You are vile, worthless, and a ratchet-jawed piddler of no merit.

I’m just pissed off that I didn’t call you out on your grandiose delusions and falsehoods.  I could have pretty easily, you know.  See, dumbass, those ensnared in your insidious trap are capable of using Facebook, also.  Those daughters of yours? In spite of your fables as Father of the Year, clearly they publicly hold you in contempt for what you did to their mother.  Politics and social sciences?  You know nothing, but pretend you are Edward R. Murrow.  One difference, though:  I’m sure Mr. Murrow was literate.  You are a prime example of what Facebook’s function is:  to be what you want people to THINK you are.  The Narcissist’s Paradise.   Oh, yeah, and ex-wife number two?  You know, the one you said was a model?  Well, if she is a model, then I am Gisele Bundchen’s better looking twin.   And that girlfriend of yours…you know, the one you never mentioned?  One would never mistake her for a model, but I refuse to be unkind, because I know the hell she is going through right now, even though your declarations of love for her on Facebook were consistently stomach turning.  You and I both know what you really are, but I’m sure her money, old family name, and multitude of business contacts keeps the fuel a’pumpin’ from her.  Of course, the times I have run into her in person, she has that harried, anxious, and agitated look on her face.  The look that screams, “I LIVE WITH A CONTROL FREAK!”  Well, I hope she’s happy with you being her knuckle-dragging Neanderthal.  Better her than me.  I hope you didn’t “borrow” too much of her inheritance.  There is a word for men who sponge off women, but I am too much of a lady to repeat it.

You smarmy woofter glob.  You asinine gob-kissing, one-handed, slack-jawed, slavering meatslapper.

Speaking of that, you couldn’t kiss your way out of a paper bag.  I was at least expecting you to be good in that particular field of endeavor, but you are a mediocre kisser, at best.  I kept thinking, “C’mon, give me something to work with here!” as I really gave it my all. (I’ve never had any complaints in that dept.) Your fumbling, slimy slobbering made me slightly queasy. I’m glad I told you to back off before I let you cop a good feel.   Thank goodness our “relationship” never got to the point of doing the Wild Thang in the kip.   Your kiss told me all I needed to know about how you might have performed.  And I am not that skilled of an actress to have pretended to be in ecstasy.  Hell, Meryl Streep couldn’t have pulled it off.

May you choke on the bilious, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.  You are weary, stale, flat, nasty, and profane.  Monkeys look down on you.

This letter crystallizes everything I want to say to you.  But will you ever know my real feelings?  NEVER!  Thank the Lord my own natural sangfroid prevented me from falling all over you, averted me from blowing up your phone, and stopped me from confessing any kind of endearment that would have me turning purple with shame now that you are out of my life.   This letter is for me.  Whenever you slither across my mind like a snake, I will read this letter and remind myself what a pisshead you are.  If anything happens to trigger a memory of your useless self, I will pull out this letter and recall your malevolent personality and malignant charm.  If I ever see your stupid ass EVER again, I will once again peruse this letter and feel relief that I escaped such a foot-licking mass of walking vomit. You will never know what I went through or how I feel about you now.  I will ignore you like as I would a ditch carp and will flick you away like a loathsome gnat buzzing around my face.  Whatever it takes to rid my soul of you, I will do it.  My anger toward you is nothing like the anger I feel at myself.  After all, you are what you are: a half-witted nincompoop, a brazen gimcrack, a bellyaching gasbag full of hokum and moonshine.  However, I am an intelligent woman with loads of delicious fuel for some lucky hunk of man to drown in.  But not you.  This well is dry for you, Snotrag.   This fuel station is closed and has relocated to WokeTown.

Bugger off, you churlish, clack dish clod.  You are the source of all unpleasantness.  You remind me of a cockroach.  You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.  You snail-skulled little rabbit.  I hope a hawk picks you up and drives its sharp beak into your feeble brain. 

You are less than nothing. Go back to the hell that spawned you.

Me?  I will never give up.

 

 

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49 thoughts on “A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 81”

  1. Dear SJS,
    What a great read ….. absolutely luvved it …superbly done
    Thankyou for keeping me totally enthralled from beginning to end
    Your descriptions were priceless
    Luv Bubbles Xx😘

  2. Tell us how you REALLY feel, hahaha, PERFECT! I love ” monkeys look down on you” Thanks for this letter. All the things we want to text our ex narcs but there is never enough time or data.

  3. Before I found HG, I had suspicion regarding this but it was purely intuitive. My ex narc, in certain occasions when I was mad, would sit back, put his hands behind his head and say: “ok, go ahead. Say it.”

    He had this expression of pleasure in his face that it was almost as if he was having an orgasmic experience with my anger. The disconnect in the facial expression and what I was about to tell him usually caught me off guard and I could never deliver my anger because I was more concerned about stare at him and understand him at that moment (and not give to him what he was asking from me) then actually get it out of my chest. I would freeze and get quiet.

    Who says that? Who does that?

    One time during the sex I began crying. He went nuts. He turned me around, got between my legs and as we had sex, he kept saying: “yes, yes! Let it all out! Give it to me! All of it! It is all mine! Every drop of your fluids is mine and so are your tears! Come on! GIVE ALL TO ME! You are mine!”

    Then I would stopped crying because it was eerie.

    By the end, anything I said, he tasted. Anything. He was with someone else so the contrast just made it more pleasant.
    Well, I had the feeling that it was the case. So, I stopped texting him.
    A week after I stopped, he Hoovered me saying that he knew his silence hurt me but he found himself in this negative mood and wanted to be left alone.

    I got quiet.

    Then he said, go ahead unleash your anger on me.

    I said: I am not angry. I hope she serves you well.

    40 minutes later he texted me: good night, Kathy.

    I never answered him back.
    I haven’t heard from him ever since and it has been a month.

    So… anything you say, do… ANYTHING to the atom level is fuel.

    When you understand that if you fart close to the narcissist, your fart is fuel, you will simply go no contact.
    They are self centered so anything that happens can only be about and for them. Especially when it is. So….

  4. Very difficult to choose, but I think my favourite has to be “Foot licking mass of walking vomit”

    Surely it’s only challenge fuel if the letter is actually sent? There is no intention of doing so, so why can’t the writer be as emotive as they want/need?

    1. Yes indeed but I made the point because people referenced utilising its content and I was commenting generally viz a viz education.

      1. Ah, right, thanks for the clarification.

        Yes, it could be rather delicious at the time, but ultimately not worth it for all of the reasons that you have previously explained.

  5. I love this letter. I think it’s wonderfully uplifting and very well observed. Sod the Fuel, it’s a glorious two fingers up in that narcs direction.

  6. “…let’s turn a critical, unbiased glance at your appearance. Adonis you may consider yourself to be, but I don’t think Tom Selleck has anything to worry about as far as competition from you is concerned.
    You have lost your hair and are officially categorized as BALD. …
    And that body that you preen so fondly is …the type that will chub out in just a few years. ”

    I think that delivering this ‘message’ to a Somatic narcissist in a calm tone with a neutral expression would wound him.

    1. The chances of this message delivered calmly and in a neutral expression are nil, EB ! Plus the content of the words is emotive in itself and would amount to challenge fuel, rather than wound.

      1. I did not know that the content of the words was emotive in itself, HG. What about “You are bald”? Last week a man was talking about a somatic MRN woman to other people. He hinted she was ‘old’. When she noticed it, she got furious and lashed out at him. As far as I know, somatic narcissists hate people saying that they are old/bald (men) or old/overweight (women).

      2. Sentence No. 2 has fuel in it. This is clear and I understand that, HG, but I still cannot see any emotional vocabulary in the sentences I chose from SJS’ letter (my first comment).

        “You have lost your hair and are officially categorized as bald.”
        Where is the emotion in it?

      3. EB, I was referring to the letter as a whole, not the sentences you chose EB, that seems to be the course of the confusion.

      4. What about a spontaneous, “Wow! I hadn’t noticed how much hair you’ve lost!” ?
        Or, “Since it’s thinned out so much, your hair looks a lot better this new way you’re having it cut!” ?

        But I agree it’s not smart to say either. If we feel the need to try to hurt someone, we’re better off just staying away from them.

    1. EB
      Ha, ha! I thought of my neighbor, too. But her gas mask has two filters – one on either side!

      Haven’t seen her lately, but can’t bring myself to initiate contact. It would result in weeks of requests and annoying visits and intrusive questions. Victim narcs are best avoided whenever possible. Any opening and they try to attach themselves.

      1. Windstorm,
        “her gas mask has two filters – one on either side!”
        Worse than I had thought. Ha ha ha. You can consider yourself lucky the two of you have not been stopped by the police yet 🙂

  7. I can see why HG, id like this person as a friend. I think they would be a hoot! The best insults ever! Had me laughing!

      1. You rarely add pointers or make comments on the Narc letters. It’s refreshing to see your input here in snippets.

      2. HG,
        ‘That is because they are being saved to be provided en masse.’

        Will letters and commentary be a book? Or three?

  8. Oh my gosh!
    What a way with words! I have an absolute crush on the person who wrote this!
    Strong, intelligent and the insults so clever and amusing! Wonderful!
    You are so over him, I don’t think he ever really had you did he.
    What a skill to write in this way and convey so much, I don’t see evil or nasty in you from your words. I see strength and humour through adversity. What a phoenix from the flames you are. Bravo!

  9. I wish I could have come up with such clever insults in my heated moment with the narc, but all I could do was rely on the predictable ‘lying motherfucker’ over and over. I still stand by it, however.

      1. You are right, HG. I regret sending my email of fuck yous to the cocksucking, lying twat face, etc.

        Here’s why–everyone listen up. He turned it against me. He was a Mid ranger good with words, so he responded very coldly, aloofly and accused me of 1) being abusive 2) that I never loved him anyway and this was proof 3) psychologically unstable 4) obsessed with him.

        Guess who was hurt more in the end? Not him. He got to revel in victim mode.

        And I had to combat those cruel words in my head for years afterwards. I actually believed them.

        Don’t do it. These letters are cathartic and meant to be for those who get your vibe. We on Narcsite get you. The narc will never get you.

        The end of his email he said, ‘I hope you can get the psychological help you need.’

        And he ended it with an ‘xo’.

  10. Wow! Hope you feel better after that SRS. I know the anger…fortunately he’ll never read this. He’d have loved it.

    1. My ex narc used to share his texts from his discard IPPS which had similar contents though not as colorful. He was laughing and devaluing her even more, using me his new IPPS as a validator, saying “see, I told you she is crazy!” (before I figured it out) agree with HG. He would have loved it.

  11. I will pay you to write a letter to my narcissist! Hahaha that was the best .I felt like I let my anger out just reading this…I’m totally using grimy squalid troll.

  12. It could have used a bit more description……

    Kidding of course. That was a wild ride from beginning to end, and I hope that it was as cathartic for you writing it as it was amusing and enjoyable for me to read.

  13. I was feeling weak. This letter has bolstered me back up. And also gave me some great new words. Thanks SJS. May the force stay with you

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