The Asylum Of the Grotesque

Why don’t you try to love me the way that I love you?” – Paula

“Perhaps if you just tried you could find a better way to something deeper and more substantial.” – Kate

“I know it is within you, it has to be, all you need is to embrace it and place your trust in me.” – Alex

“I know you flirt with all kinds of dirt, but beneath the sin, I know you want to love me like I love you.” – Karen

“If you let me I will show you how to love without condition or cruelty, it can be done by all of us. Just let me try.” – Caroline

I still hear these words from these women (and more besides) as I sit late at night in the large living room to the rear of my house. It is on the first floor and provides me with a commanding view of the fields to the rear of the property, the occasional copse breaking up the undulating countryside. I had two bedrooms knocked together and created this living room where I like to sit and look out across the view as the sun vanishes and the cool, calmness of the night arrives. The sky shifts from the medley of flaming oranges, reds and yellows to a soothing azure and then the darkness descends. Karen and I enjoyed sitting in the large elbow chairs that faced the window. Often we would say nothing as around us the lamps would switch on, a gentle click signifying their creation of a pool of light as the timer activated them one by one.

I will often leave the city behind and come out here so I can sit in this house which I regard as my castle and with a glass of Chablis in hand, watch the sky change colour. The occasional noise of a distant animal might be heard but largely there is silence. The enveloping stillness of a calm world until I hear their words. All of them meant what they said and did so with the best of their intentions. I know that because I could see it in their eyes. Whether it was the earnest green, the heart-felt hazel, the beseeching blue or the inspiring grey, I still see them as they tried to make me see a different way. They wanted me to change. They wanted to make me something else.

Now Karen no longer sits beside me, I rarely bring the girlfriends that I acquire out here. I prefer the solitude, only for a few days. I will periodically check my electronic devices and the winking displays, lists of messages and e-mails sustains me as so many seek my attention. Without Karen, I decide against having the lamps gently bloom and instead prefer the gathering darkness. It is here that I can sit and plan. It is in this quiet that I can marshal my resources, mark my targets and organise my machinations. It is also when I resist those pleas to become that which I regard as impossible to achieve. I prefer to walk amongst my trophies. I stride amidst the frozen tributes to my brilliance as I picture each and every of my conquests as if they are beautifully crafted statues each in a pose denoting my victory over them. There is Siobhan, on her knees looking up at me as she begs me not to go, her pretty features contorted by the pain she is experiencing. Paula sits at a table, her hands clamped over he mouth, her eyes wide with fear as she fights to say nothing, terrified that a word might slip from her lips. Becky dangles limps, the strings rising upwards attached to her hands, her feet, her head, her hips and other places. The broken puppet. Kate stands on tip toe, her face a mask of anguish as with one hand raised above her eyes she peers into the distance as if searching for something, an empty dog lead in her hand. I let my hands glide over the smooth stone that has captured their defeat and embodied it in an eternal stance. My fingers drift over open mouths, curled lips, tear-filled eyes and flared nostrils. I savour the misery, anger and dejection that has been injected into these statues. I regularly walk amongst them and it reminds me of my power, the hold that I have over these people who sought to change me but could only ever disappoint me. Why would I ever want to do what they would have me do? Why would I embrace their suggestions when I can create these monuments to my omnipotence? These masterpieces of misery always reinforce that I am destined to do this for this is what I do best. I am reassured, validated and comforted that my way is the right way when I take a stroll  in my asylum of the grotesque.

25 thoughts on “The Asylum Of the Grotesque

  1. Alexissmith2016 says:

    HG, can you get victim empaths too? I know a few people who would appear to fit this sort of category. Where their main driver is guilt? Rather than doing anything for the love of it so to speak.

  2. Eternity says:

    HG, these poor women I feel so bad for them. I hope you and SM last together.

  3. Kim e says:

    Put on the life vest known as KTN. We have all been in the water more then once and will pull you to dry land.
    Take care of yourself. You are worth it…….the ET and pain is not.

    1. lickemtomorrow says:

      ThAnk you, KimE <3

      I have put on my life vest and the cause of my ET was an email from an acquaintance closely associated with the narcissist which put me at 'ground zero' again. I don't know how to give a 'non-response', so I haven't replied … yet. The temptation is out there to want to respond and get more of a low down. And the fear is giving information on what is happening with me is likely to be relayed straight back to him, or the sources he has in place.

      It sucks when I've been so good at putting it all on the back burner and focusing on what I am learning here.

      1. Kim says:

        I say delete delete delete. Not worth the torment you are putting yourself thru. There is nothing worth reading or replying to. And certainly not anything worth you losing advancement in your GOSO
        Listen… how about you forward the email to me and I will reply for you. 😀🤪💕

        1. lickemtomorrow says:

          🙂 I’m surprised the email didn’t end up in my ‘junk’ folder and I’ve got no idea how the computer decides what is junk and what is not … it’s a mystery … but things that shouldn’t end up there do, and things that should don’t! Once again, it’s that blindness to the machinations which find loopholes you just don’t expect. Well, I guess it’s not so much a loophole as I just didn’t expect to hear from this person again. So, lesson learned.

          The surprise factor had me reading the email, but I don’t feel inspired to respond. And they won’t know if I’ve even received it. Simplest solution is to delete and move on. I’m not concerned about ‘offending’ anyone. I’ve put my own needs ahead for change.

          So, thank you for your offer, Kim <3 It was very sweet and I'm on it 😉

  4. NarcAngel says:

    Well no wonder. That’s gorging at an ET buffet. Put on House of Pain’s Jump Around. At the very least you’ll get some housework done.

    1. Violetta says:


      Excellent advice! Did my dishes last night to Loud, Fast Ramones.

    2. blackcoffee30 says:

      I like to cry it out, quick & dirty (Geyser), so I listen to Mexican rancheras, Vicente Fernandez. Even if you don’t speak Spanish, about 30 seconds in you *FEEL* the pain.

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        Yes, sometimes you just need to wallow in it.

        And as an empath, it’s a given I’ll feel the pain.

        Love the way you describe crying it out, BC.

        I’ve had my ‘quick and dirty’ moment for now xox

    3. lickemtomorrow says:

      Will do, NA. And, there’s always housework to be done!


  5. lickemtomorrow says:

    Listening to Katelyn Tarver’s “You Don’t Know”.

    The waves are lapping over the sides of my little dinghy today as I cross the emotional sea.

    1. truthseeker6157 says:

      Meg Myers ‘Adelaide’ .Should be the empath anthem.

      Feel brighter Lickemtomorrow x

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        I’m going to look it up.

        Thanks TS <3

    2. blackcoffee30 says:

      LET, Sending ❤️

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        Thanks, BC. Much appreciated xox

    3. Fiddleress says:

      How about “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, hey? Bit of 70’s corny disco there, but the lyrics are quite apt.

      Sending plenty of support your way, and hugs, lickemtomorrow.

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        Thanks, Fiddleress 🙂 Gloria Gaynor got my vote a long time ago!

        Appreciate the support and loving the song themes as well.

        Music is my tonic, whatever my mood.

    4. Violetta says:

      In addition to many punk rock dirges and revenge songs, I like an old Harry Nilsson song that includes the lyrics:

      You’re breakin’ my heart
      You’re tearing it apart
      So fuck you

      1. Eternity says:

        My revenge some is Twister Sister
        We’re not gonna take it. If you see the video the father is a Narcissist and I laugh my buns off watching him go through the window.

        1. lickemtomorrow says:

          Another good song 😉

          I found a ‘counternarrative’ song which is Tom Walker’s “Leave a Light On”

          I like the lyric version the best, but my favourite lines are:

          Tell me what’s been happening,

          what’s been on your mind

          Lately you’ve been searching for a darker place to hide

          That’s alright …

          “That’s alright” is what gets to me the most. No one is arguing about how you feel. They accept it’s a place we all go sometimes. Acceptance is always the starting point for me.

        2. Violetta says:

          “Now drop and give me 20!”

      2. lickemtomorrow says:

        Definitely adding this one to my repertoire.

        It’s a ‘fuck you’ to my narc again today!

        1. HG Tudor says:

          You’re keeping the narcissist in your head, no contact breach.

          1. lickemtomorrow says:


            Never thought of it that way!

            Just as well I’m filling my head with KTN knowledge and support again today 🙂

            Breach secured.

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