Let´s Pretend



Here we are again. In that all too familiar place. I have lost count of how many times I have found myself here. Despite my very best endeavours, my valiant intentions and earnest dedication I am stood in this hallway of despair. Some time ago this hallway was a welcoming place where polished tiles gleamed and marble pillars glinted. The air was filled with the scent of jasmine, bright sunlight pouring in through the glass dome high above.

So many corridors and doorways led from this hallway, offering exciting and intriguing possibilities, new experiences and enthralling opportunities. I can still picture you when you had crossed the threshold, invited into my world and you stood open-mouthed impressed and amazed by the grandeur. With a typically generous and expansive sweep of my arm I offered you the free run of those corridors and rooms. You took full advantage of my generosity and why not? You were a very welcome and special addition.

Now look at us. Your failure has made this a cold and desolate place. The dome has suffered as a consequence of your frequent eruptions of frustrated anger, the once clear panes now either broken or smeared with the grime of your betrayal. The sun has not shone into this hallway for a long time, in fact, neither of us can remember when it last did so. The tall pillars are cracked and chipped, testament to your unwarranted assaults on our person as your forked tongue of criticism lashed out at us.

The tiles are fractured and uneven causing you to regularly trip and fall to the floor, the cold slap of your downfall a stark reminder of the change that has gripped this place. You can hear the low moan of the wind as it billows, wuthering and gusting, seeking entrance through the broken windows and dilapidated shutters.

That is the wind isn’t it or is it the tortured protestations of the shades and spectres which still haunt this hallway? Sometimes you see them, the forlorn figures which glide haplessly along the dirty passageways, heads bowed as they seem to be seeking something. Whenever you see them you feel a strange sense of familiarity and understanding with their plight even though you are unsure who they are. No doubt a consequence of the empathic traits which still cause you to remain here.

I let you walk these beautiful corridors. I allowed you to marvel at the statues, the ornaments which adorned the walls and alcoves, mesmerising you with their beauty. You felt loved, you felt content and you felt safe as you walked this place never needing or wanting to step back through the door that you once entered all that time ago.

Now you are sat on the icy floor, your hands clasped together and raised in a gesture of contrition and pleading. Your face is etched with wounding woe and the lines of desperation evidence your determination to remain.

I brandish the heavy iron key that will unlock the dark door which looms over you and which will reveal the doorway to the cold, uncaring and harsh world beyond, a world you have no desire to return to. I hold the key as I stand over you watching you and although I hear your voice I cannot discern what you are saying. You struggle to your feet, weakness pulling at you as you pull down the sleeve of the tattered garment which you wear and you begin to rub at a nearby pillar.

You spit on it and frantically try to remove the grime as if you are showing me that the damage can somehow be undone. You turn and look at me, hand still moving back and forth and I see that eternal optimism in your eyes. That look which once looked like paradise to me and now only serves to reinforce your selfishness in wanting to remain here after everything you have done and everything you have not done as you let me down. Again. The distortion that has surrounded your voice has gone and now I can hear you as you are pointing to the windows and the doors which hang from their hinges, holes smashed into them.

” This place was once so beautiful and you have let it fall into neglect, why have you done this? I just do not understand. I helped you keep it shining and in a pristine condition but then you just lost interest, you would not work with me anymore and it began to fall into decline. It was too much for me to maintain alone though heaven knows I tried, I really did. Not only did you not help me but you then started to hinder me, stopping me from carrying out my tasks, holding me back and diverting me.”

Why are you saying such things to me? Why are you seeking to pin the blame on me? Why are you trying to make me responsible for the demise of this once grand place? I shake my head and point the key at you, a clear signal of my intent. Your face twists and the tears start to form in your eyes. Perhaps they might fall into the now dry fountain and bring about restoration. Does such restoration hang from your sadness?

“Don’t make me leave, please I do not want this to end,” you plead, your eyes, which once shone with delight and joy, which are now glazed as your fear of abandonment starts to rise.

“This does not have to happen, ” you continue as you place a hand against my arm, ” let me stay, I only want us to be happy, to be as we once were. Surely we can do that? Our laughter once echoed through this place and it can again.

We can repair the damage, it is not about who caused it, I can put that to one side, I just want us to be together and for us to rebuild what we once had. We did it once, I know we can again, let us join forces and re-create that wonderful time once more, let us admit sunshine and clean away the dirt and the hurt that seeks to envelope this place. We can fix the glass, mend the doors, scrub the floors and clean and tidy and make good. We can do it. I know we can. I can sense it deep inside you, I know it to be the case.”

Your words are impressive and burgeoning with hope. Perhaps it can be done but then you let us down and for that you must pay the price. That momentary consideration of allying with you and recovering what we once had is dispelled. We shake our head.

“It cannot be recovered. There is no hope to do so,” we say slowly.

A tear spills down your cheek and hovers on your chin as if unsure of where to go.

“Then let us at least pretend that we walk through gilded and fragrant halls once more. Please? We can pretend can’t we?”

Yes, we can pretend. It is all we ever do.

28 thoughts on “Let´s Pretend

  1. lisk says:

    “You were a very welcome and special addition.”

    Yes, I was. And I always had that sense of being an addition, of our lives being integrated.

    Being an addition, I was easily subtractable, ready to be tossed anytime because “the empathic traits which still cause you to remain here” would not allow me to consider subtracting myself.

    1. lisk says:

      Oops . . . *of our lives NOT being integrated.

  2. Fiddleress says:

    Oh truthseeker, I think we are in the same place right now.
    I understand exactly what you mean about feeling sharper and liking it (so long as it doesn’t go over a certain limit, or for me it carries more risk than feeling drained, even) and wanting an ‘off’ button.
    I wish this sharpness could at least be put to good use, by making me creative artistically, but it doesn’t work like this; it is too much like a boiling cauldron.

    I have always been affected by what I read, watched, and people’s stories. But then, I have always had narcs around me since I was born.
    Today is my first day of freedom. First narc-free day for good in my everyday life. It doesn’t feel quite real yet, but I am still going to celebrate with a friend tonight!

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Hg approves.

      1. Fiddleress says:

        I will be thanking you as I drink the champagne.

        1. HG Tudor says:


          1. Fiddleress says:

            It was Drappier, and it was lovely.
            I understand that Deutz is your favourite. I am sure I will have another opportunity to have champagne: in six months’ time, when I have reached zero impact. Something to look forward to. I will make sure that I have some Deutz for that occasion.

          2. HG Tudor says:

            Jolly good.

          3. Fiddleress says:

            In the meantime, I am off to the nunnery for six months! Which does not exclude a little drink ever now and then.

        2. blackcoffee30 says:

          Yay!!! I am sooooo happy for you! Have a great time with your friend and celebrating, love!

          PS leave your phone— no drunk dials/texting!

          1. Fiddleress says:

            Thank you blackcoffee! I have just seen your post. I had a great time with this friend I have known since I was 15. She’s like a sister to me.

            What you wrote made me think, and hooray: I can’t even remember Narcex’s number! And that’s me sober.

        3. I’m at the nunnery waiting for you Fiddleress

          1. Fiddleress says:

            Haha Alexis! I will be in great company with you!

          2. Empath007 says:

            Haha ! I’m there too. Been 2 years already. Congratulations on going no conact fiddlerless !! That’s definiteky something to celebrate ❤️

    2. truthseeker6157 says:

      It is?! Congratulations Fiddleress! Well done you !

      Go out, have fun, and if some guy comes over and says,” I have been watching you from across the bar and just had to come over and talk to you. I think we we were in first grade together. Our pet hamsters used to play together in the class hutch, do you remember?”

      Then you know what to do.

      1. Fiddleress says:

        Haha, truthseeker, thanks for the great laugh! And thank you.
        I sure know what to do now.
        I might reply: “Oh yeah, I remember: aren’t you the guy I slapped in primary school when we were 8?”.
        This is a true story by the way; the guy had been pulling my hair. I think I might use this one as a non chat-up line, from now on when the red flags start fluttering!

        1. Violetta says:

          Someone I really did know since 2nd grade came up to me in college and tried to flirt with me.

          Since he had punched me in the arm when the school sociopath told him I was crushing on him in 5th grade, he got nowhere.

    3. lisk says:

      Congratulations on your freedom, Fiddleress!

      1. Fiddleress says:

        Thank you lisk!

    4. Kristin says:

      Very happy for you Fiddleress! 💝

      1. Fiddleress says:

        Thank you Kristin.
        I think I may have rushed to slip on that black dress and tripped over the tulle, and then my halo fell to the floor.
        Aiming for the Poster Child status once I know that I am low on ET, so plenty of work still.
        But today, I feel like I am on holiday, and it feels great. All the more as I can share it here.

        1. Kristin says:

          This is a big step and you are doing great, enjoy the day to its fullest. We will all be here for you on the good days, when the ET spikes and more importantly, when you are crowned poster child of the month. It will happen in your own time, just keep moving ahead. 😘

  3. truthseeker6157 says:

    I read this last night. It affected me then. I think I’m more emotional at night so I read it this morning and it had the same effect. Technically, I have read harder hitting articles on the blog than this one, but this hits me a lot harder than most and I’m not entirely sure why.
    Nobody likes a sad ending, maybe it’s that. I can visualise the interaction within the desolate setting, maybe it’s that. She fights on doesn’t she? Even when all hope is lost. Maybe it’s that. I can’t stand other people being left alone. She’s going to be left alone. Maybe it’s that. I don’t know who I feel most sorry for either, him, or her. Maybe it’s that. I am not getting any better at channeling my feelings just towards the ‘victim’, they always manage to split and head out towards the narcissist as well. Maybe it’s that. I think I’m going to go with the sense of hopelessness it evokes. This piece should carry an emotional response warning.
    Can we have a narc tale next please? Thanks.

    1. Violetta says:

      Unfuck the glass dome. I want fresh air.

    2. Fiddleress says:

      Everything you wrote, truthseeker6157. Especially this part :
      ” I don’t know who I feel most sorry for either, him, or her”

      Also, because it is so beautifully written and we can picture every detail of the setting and the characters, maybe it’s that.

      1. Yeah, you get it Fiddleress x
        I don’t recall being as melancholic pre narc. I don’t recall being as affected by songs, films, things I read. I’ve always been affected by people.

        All the empathic aspects seem to be highlighted just now, constantly on full beam. I like it in a way, I feel sharper. The downside is draining the hell out of me though. I read comments on here and can feel the heartbreak in them. I ache for the person writing them. I think about comments when I’m driving or tasking, any free head space.

        The narc used to say. “You need to stop thinking so deeply into what you read.” That’s easier said than done though isn’t it? Someone should teach us where the ‘off’ button is. After all, all appliances have an off button.

  4. Claudia Carmen Rusu says:

    Hi and thank you for all the information. Very helpful. I have a question though: reading all the posts after I have achieved no contact for months now, isn’t keeping my emotional thinking at a high level? I mean you are one of them and basically I kept in touch through your posts with a narc, not the romantic narc but with a narc.

    1. HG Tudor says:

      No, your ET tries to tell you that reading logic is actually keeping your ET high, so you will stop doing so. It is conning you again. Ignore it, read and build your logic defences and that “voice” suggesting you are doing the “wrong thing” will shut up.

Vent Your Spleen! (Please see the Rules in Formal Info)

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.