A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 90

The poet wordsmith, creative gentle soul. Mistreated in this world suffering bouts of depression, lonely and needs a friend.

My first impressions of you were I’ve never met anyone like this before. He’s so deep, a tortured soul and I can help him through all the troubles of his past. I related a little to you so I started to post about my own journey and interacting with you.

You looked so sad, nearly as sad as I was so I reached out to you and we started to talk. Two weeks later, after speaking fairly regularly I backed off a bit as I had just come out of a relationship and was feeling so fragile anyway. It was heating up far quicker than I had wanted, I never saw you that way. I wanted a friend. You knew I felt worthless because I was dumped and I had all of this love to give, all these dreams I had held had been broken. You knew I was in pain as I opened up to you. As I told you I liked you as a friend only, you told me that you wanted to kill yourself and throw yourself off a bridge. Nobody ever wanted you, why wouldn’t anybody love you, why do people use you for advice. I was shocked! I panicked! What is going on?? What can I do to help you?? I gave you more time, I tried to support you more, I was there more, more more more.

I was a friend first before you stalked and seduced me. You knew EVERYTHING about me, you had done your homework as you knew things about me nobody but close friends and family knew! Over a year we grew closer and I became your muse as you wrote me poetry and sung to me. I have never been pursued in such a way before. It was obsessive, compulsive, the texts and calls, the poems the songs, the videos were non stop! You would time things to post on Facebook that interested me knowing my log in times after work. You knew where I was all the time without me telling you. I thought you must really be interested in me, you wanted me and I so desperately wanted you by then. I had fallen for you. I was overcome with lust and desire and feelings I had repressed for years surfaced once more and I knew finally that those who talk about life being so amazing, must have felt how I felt during that moment. I adored being your muse, until the words you wrote and the Facebook page you set up started to destroy me. Your once obsession with me, your beautiful sexy intelligent use of words to describe me and our love started to drift into vulgarity and hatred clouded in deep rooted disgust. It came from nowhere.

My poet wordsmith, my educated intelligent, articulated sexy adoring magnificent twin flame, soul mate, future husband had been replaced with someone I didn’t know but recognised. You see, I’ve been here before – not with the love bombing but the negative, sly, twisted, evil behaviour. The snide comments, the look, that thunderous dark glare that would hold my gaze combined with the smirk as you asked me my thoughts on your latest musings on your Facebook writer’s page. You watched me closely as I read the words and looked to you for answers, why? I knew the page was about me – you had set it up when we started our dance. Why? You told me it wasn’t about me, it was just a creative flair, a self-expression, your right to write want you wanted – and then you tore into me for not liking it. I never said a word, my face must have shown the confusion – and that was the beginning of the end. Months and months I would read words describing me and how you hated me, despised me, but yet – it wasn’t about me. You kept telling me to stop being paranoid – my behaviour was becoming unstable – it was only words and I read too much into things – BUT you would ask my opinion as usual which I began to dread! I started to tell you I didn’t want to read it anymore, I didn’t want to upset you with my paranoia. I was limiting your creative flair which I never wanted to do. I wasn’t your muse anymore and I was devastated.

Then you started showing me pictures of murdered girls hidden in undergrowth telling me it was a work of art. You started spitting on me when I confronted you about really negative behaviours. You trashed my house whilst I was at work because I didn’t have any milk. From being your Queen, your muse to a piece of shit who was easily replaceable as you told me you were on Tinder just in case we didn’t work out, you started to carry condoms in your wallet. You had random girls messaging you on Facebook but of course, you were only helping them. You spiked me and went through my phone as I was passed out – but you didn’t find anything because I was always true to you. I stopped speaking to male friends that I had had for over 10 years. You told me they only contacted me because they wanted easy sex and to stop being such a slut. Why would I still want them as friends when I had you unless I was cheating? I paid for everything and you highlighted this by calling me your Sugar mummy (I was 40, you were 32) and if I didn’t spoil you enough you would become aggressive and verbally abusive, avoiding sex, sleeping in a different room, staying up all hours and sleeping all day so our schedules no longer matched as I had work and a schedule to keep.

When you left me for periods of time refusing to answer your phone, in the beginning it was dreadful for me. I felt like my drug supply dried up and I was going cold turkey alone. You crushed me time and time again as I tried to keep us afloat, trying to salvage us. You said you adored that I never gave up.

You discarded me in October 2017 and I’ve maintained NO CONTACT despite your return by love bombing me since 26th May this year. You see, I knew about the girl from the pub, you paraded her in front of me, in fact you mocked me in front of her to say I was infatuated with you when I was in a relationship with you already – a relationship you denied to her as I stood there dumbfounded at your audacity and lies. I knew despite your lies later that she was THE NEXT ONE.  But it was all in my head. I was a jealous bitch and you can speak to who you want to and besides why label what we have? so technically what you said was true. I hated you. I knew then. That’s it. When you disappeared again, I wrote you a beautiful letter to say it’s over, have closure and wished you well. I took all the blame for everything that went wrong, all the abuse – it was my fault, everything, everything! I wanted closure and to end it amicably so I sent it. Then deleted all I had to do with you. I disappeared off the face of the planet and found HG’s Youtube page. I listened to everything and read everything I could!

You can keep the girl from the pub – and the next and the next and the next, I know what you are. I know what you will never be. Your words mean nothing, you’re no Wordsworth or Keats or poet to my beat. You need to get a job, start being an adult and stop sponging of your poor mum. I feel null and void over you, I nearly swayed and broke contact to tell you to foxtrot off but HG’s articles and guidance keeps me strong. HG has been my force field, my battle shield, my shiny armour. I won this battle. I was taught by someone far superior to you to break free. I bet you thinks you’re a Master Narcissist however you’re more like a Master cock! And i can confirm not in the trouser department either!

Cheerio