Forever Wrong Upon The Throne
It is late.
The time is somewhere between the witching hour and when the devil stalks the land yet the pull of slumber has yet to be felt. The darkness envelopes me with only the silver burnish of moonlight to pick out the objects around me and ensure they retain some familiarity.
It is cold but I do not object, content to sit with the window open and allow the night air to infiltrate my domain. The cold touch of the darkness soothes me and a calm has settled upon my person. I am sat, alone, yet I have no concerns, for the day has proved fruitful, as always, in my quest for fuel. Although not sated I am neither in desperate need nor bloated from my repeated extractions.
There is room for more, there is always room for more but I do not feel that driving need to acquire more. Instead the stillness and the calm engulf me as I sit here and look out from my elevated situation, through the wide open window and across the garden and the fields beyond.
My still alert eyes detect no movement of beast nor breeze. The trees still as if in silent salute. The birds that so often fly past are nested for the night and in the distance the intermittent hoot of an owl is a reminder that although I am sat alone there is still something out there. It is at times like this, when the freneticism has subsided, the hurly burly of the day’s cut and thrust has given way to this rare and unusual state that I remember.
My gaze remains steady as I look out across those undulating fields, fields so similar to the ones that we used to run through didn’t we? Where are you? Where are you now?
Why are you not sat beside me, king and queen like we used to when we planned our lives all that times ago? You must forgive me. I have not thought of you as often or as deeply as I ought to have done but I have been about other things.
I know you understand. I know you recognise that the demands made upon me would be beyond others and that I must attend to those demands. I know that you realise that to dwell too often would leave me weakened and that must not happen but moments such as these, when I find myself feeling freed of my burden then I am able to reach out to you, wherever you may be.
Although I do not often permit it, you remain etched into my memory and I know with the certainty that the world will not stop spinning, that you will always reside in my memory. Yet, I must confess, that is not enough. Should a moment or an instance bring to the surface an element of our past I am bound to push it away, cast it deep into the recesses of my mind and place it behind bolted door and fearsome gate.
There is not hope for me to do anything else, for to indulge in recollection at such times would distract me too greatly from my endeavours. I know I ought not to do it but I must do so. For such moments I am moved to seek your forgiveness from your benevolent self in the full knowledge that I am told that I deserve none.
It is now when I sit on this chair and besides yours, ‘our thrones’ as we once called them, that I am able to allow your memory to consume me. I reach out with my hand and expect that somehow I will feel your cool hand slide into mine just one more time yet there is nothing.
Just that absence that has remained constant no matter how hard I labour to fill it. We would sit side by side wouldn’t we and look out across those fields through which we ran to our secret places, those sanctuaries and idylls dotted throughout our kingdom?
We issued our declarations as one, formulated our ordinances of governance for the betterment of our subjects and did so with great gladness. Do I miss doing so together or have I just been conditioned to believe that I miss it?
Where are you? Why will you only show yourself as memory ? Why will you not come back to me ? You could do so, even if as a shade to haunt me as I sit amidst this encompassing darkness. Do you remain distant from me to punish , joining the legions of the traitorous? Have they turned you against me? Perhaps you do and I am told that such punishment is only right for one such as I.
I know myself for what I am and I seek to purge that which grips me each and every day through the frenzied application to my endeavours in the hope that they will allow me to be granted absolution and you will return. I swear, I swear by all that I am, I would accept these labours at a tenfold if only to see you once again, hear your voice and look upon you as you take my hand as you always did. We joined as one and we were better for it were we not? Come back to me? Return. Sit beside me once again and let us find that which we once had and should always have.
I sit in the darkness as I say these thoughts aloud, my low and steady voice seeming distant and disembodied. I pause and wait expecting you to answer but there is no response.
Come back to me because for all that I have done and for all that I am about to do, without you I will sit forever wrong upon the throne.
And I must be right.
14 thoughts on “Forever Wrong Upon The Throne”
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“Although not sated I am neither in desperate need nor bloated from my repeated extractions. There is room for more, there is always room for more but I do not feel that driving need to acquire more”…… and….. “Just that absence that has remained constant no matter how hard I labour to fill it”
Reading these words, I thought, within each empath (who has an addiction to narcissists) and within each narcissist there is a ‘longing’ that, maybe, never seems to be completely and fully ‘met’.
I came across another article that HG wrote and seeing the words “need for stimulation” can be one of the ‘explanations’ as to why some people ‘seek’ stimulation either through mental and / or emotional ways (for example, fuel for a narcissist and love for an empath).
Maybe, depending on the level of the **intelligence** within these individuals, the level of ‘stimulation’ needed can range from low to extremely high (bordering on constant). **especially in relation to Logical / Emotional understanding and the perspective that is seen**
There are empaths who are on a journey to learn about narcissism and to obtain the knowledge to be able to reduce their Emotional Thinking and increase their Logical Thinking – with the aim to learn how to manage better their ‘addiction’ to narcissists and / or narcissism (depending on individual experiences at whatever time in their life-time).
There are narcissists (of which the majority are ‘unaware’, not conscious of their ‘darkness yet they may ‘sense’ it) who also have a ‘longing’ – a void – that needs ‘filling’. The ‘unaware’ narcissists do not know why or what this ‘void’ is, they do not necessarily have the words to explain it. To outsiders ie people who have no understanding about narcissism, it may be viewed as ‘depression’.
Those that are ‘consciously aware’ narcissists may understand that they have a ‘longing’ that needs to be ‘met’.
Narcissists do this through the one way that they learned how to – asserting control to obtain fuel.
“to dwell too often would leave me weakened” – even on the odd occasion, for example, the ‘wound’ (my ‘chasm’, if you will) over the loss of my father cause me to get upset – no matter how much time has passed, that ‘wound’ is deep. Now, this is something that I will not share with new ‘people’ that I may come across ie in a new work place – because it is one of my ‘weaknesses’ and if people do not know, it cannot be ‘used’ against me.
“you remain etched into my memory” – some people are simply not forgettable, others are (started laughing here) – especially in relation to narcissists of my past.
Wow Asp Emp, I was just thinking something similar to this today, with regard to the stimulation, I get bored easily but I don’t register it as such because I just go into action and do something, but it stems from boredom, or a desire for something to happen, is that the same thing? But a desire to fill a void for sure. And sadly, nothing else works, not yet anyway.
Many people are forgettable, probably all the normals…sorry, that made me laugh..but for sure, the narcissists of my past too…
AV, RE: your first paragraph – “fill a void”. What do you consider to be your “void”, how do you see it, how do you feel it, what ’caused’ your ‘void’? ….. I suppose, it’s a matter of looking into your own mind / emotions and ignoring (temporarily) all else around you?
I know what mine is and I don’t feel it every day because I don’t think about it every day, yet carrying it for so many years……but I know what would be the ‘answer’ in my case.
RE: “forgettables” – my slate is more cleaner than it ever has been, not a bad thing – room for new ‘unforgettables’, only if they meet my elite criteria (the ‘selected’ few) 😉
Oh my Asp Emp, your questions are really bringing some thoughts together. I don’t know if you’re aware of the comments recently about joy/happiness/neutrality etc on another thread. I had hesitated to use the word contented, for myself, because I have always struggled with contentedness, I’ve had to learn it and practice it. What I call joy comes easily to me, it’s just there. The void connects to the contentedness and like you, I don’t feel it all the time. But when I do is when I wish the most for a sweet man to love on and to love me back. So what is it? I can’t put my finger on it yet but hopefully soon, probably good to figure out during my no dating time. It probably relates to elevated ET. Thanks!
AV, I suppose ‘love’ finds someone when they are not necessarily looking for it, yet it can appear unexpectedly.
RE: “probably good to figure out during my no dating time. It probably relates to elevated ET” – it can take time.
I think I missed the thread about joy / happiness / neutrality……
I had to return to this one. Something about it has haunted my thoughts all today. Almost as if this spans deeper than the surface expectations. Reflection and the creation of emotional pain – existing within that moment. A glimpse only, because the details are vague. Real enough for someone to feel within that moment and elicit a response. Maybe…It was this very thing I felt so perplexing about my ex – I thank you for sharing 🙂
Your talent for writing is amazing. This is dark, sultry, flowing and profoundly sad with the narcissist’s true intentions lurking among the words. A masterpiece.
Thank you.
She is no longer a source? Why?
See Knowing HG Parts 1-9
But it’s a fantasy in your head. You can only handle fantasy. Your reality. Not reality. The cold hand is reality. She left. She prefers reality, life, love. True love. Bye.
Beautiful and powerful, how well you weave your spell. Haha… I am glad I am not in your realm of influence. Could I resist such a hoover? I am guessing it would be dependant on what has gone before…
I cannot imagine my character Damon doing so…
Damon
The large bedroom was decadent in it opulence. The rich décor old-worldly in style, with push deep pile rugs and a real working fireplace. The technological advancements of the age were curiously lacking. Not surprising when one understood this was the abode for a 7000 year old vampire queen. It was however a room fitting for one of Queen Nala’s prized possessions.
Krete, the vampire planet was not part of the United Planets. Vampires were generally reviled and distrusted and many thought they had traded their souls for immortality. Few even considered them human. Indeed they had used genetic modification to change their DNA to such an extent that they were something else.
This is what happened when some of the most brilliant scientists attempted to play god. The argument which was still being debated about – had they failed? Or succeeded?
Vampires could live for a hundred thousand years without ageing. They could regenerate and survive mortal wounds. But there was a cost to this. By the age of 250 to keep their youthful looks they needed to regularly consume human blood and at about a thousand years was no longer able to tolerate the sun.
The physical effects of their elongated lives was relatively insignificant , when one considered the effect it had on their minds. Many succumbed to madness much sooner, but all did so after 5 thousand years. Madness coupled with depravity, violence and perversion.
Damon ignored the leaches sucking on various parts of his naked body as he lay on the four poster bed. One at his thigh, one at his chest and another at his shoulder. After a few decades, this nightly ritual which had once caused his skin to crawl, became a tolerated annoyance.
Nala, like all vampires who lived beyond 5000 years had grown jaded and cruel. Spurred on by the overwhelming need to alleviate the boredom of her lengthy existence. He was but a beautiful toy to her. A moments distraction. His blood was not that she desired to feed upon, she wanted to feed on his pain and horror.
She wanted him to get angry and fight what what they did to him. He had known this long before, he had stopped giving her the satisfaction of reacting. Before becoming the malleable puppet which showed no emotion – no matter what they did – or made him do.
He stopped fighting the day they had tormented and killed his best friend. Wolf, the Alsation puppy she had given him. The dog who had slept with him and comforted him in his darkest moments. They had forced him to watch as they beat him to death.
Not in his 500 or so years had he really accepted his fate. He had been brought and sold many times since becoming enthralled. A high priced whore, bound to the one who possessed his ring. Like vampires he would never age. Unlike them, his was not borne through genetic modifications – but enchantment. Enchantments could be broken.
Nala the vampire queen had the power to set him free. He had thought he could somehow convince her to help him. That hope died the day Wolf died. Now, all he wanted was for her to grow bored and tire of him. To sell him to another.
As he waited for the vampires to finish their snack, Damon turned his head to watch the flickering flames which sent dancing shadows across the darkened room. He could feel the ember of rage which burned beneath the surface. It had been there several years now, since they had killed Wolf. Sometimes the ember threatened to erupt into flames, to consume him and everything around him.
To use human words to describe the beauty of this seems sacrilegious.
~K
Though all of your articles are informative and superbly written, this one is your crowning masterpiece, in my opinion. It is beautiful, deeply moving and presents the narcissistic perspective unforgettably. I see this time that it could be written about an amalgam, and not necessarily all victims in the same sense. Or it can be read with a specific one in mind. There is the memory of the calm that went unnoticed before. Who tells you that you are unforgivable, that you only deserve punishment? Yourself, because you know what you are? Your victims? The good doctors? Those in the chasm? It didn’t matter, no one should be. The longing for another chance is heart-wrenching even as the motive remains the same. I think this one is going to be memorized.