Knowing the Narcissist : A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 30
Hello my old friend
No need to kneel or strip, the hurt will be of a different kind today. Are you excited? I know Im looking forward to it.
I would ask how you’ve been but then I would have to endure one of your vapid monologues on how important you are and exhausted at having the world upon you. God you really are a bore. I thought I would never be able to retrieve my eyeballs from up in my skull after another one of your diatribes. You do know that the people who smile, listen, and kiss your ass like you do mine, do so to get what they want and are paid to do so? Well you have nothing of worth to offer me so I am under no such obligation. I told you what you wanted to hear and there was not much truth to any of it, just as you did to me.
Of course Im not being fair. You could choose to start talking about your second favourite subject-your balls. Your fascination with them is mind numbing. They are really but two saggy sacks of expired seed that could not produce a boy and are of no use to anyone. The seed is trapped there for all eternity due to your inability to produce the life altering hard-ons I was promised in the beginning and that you knew you could never deliver. Not that I was really interested. I wanted to excavate your mind, only to be disappointed by the vacuous hole that matches the one where your soul should be. Oh, and the pictures of the injuries to them that you sent me? We both know that is not my work but please do give my compliments to whomever caused them.
It was wonderful in the beginning wasn’t it? I confirmed you were every bit as handsome, intelligent, and god-like as you believe yourself to be. I loved filling you up with the power that allowed you to do the difficult things you must do to keep up the facade because it benefitted others, and kept those who coveted your position at bay. I warned you though not to get nasty-to get that from the others. It was so amusing and completely unnecessary when you swore on your pathetic existence that there were no others. I never cared.
Who knew that when you inevitably did, that I would have armed myself by slogging through all those pages of an ancient Inquiry to find those kernels of shame you thought long buried. It must have stung like that one disparaging remark about your physicality (hand to throat in mock horror) made in a book citing your accolades. How I laughed inside while you struggled to compose yourself and demand to know how I knew these things. You cant say I didn’t warn you.
Oh, and I’ll continue to decline your offer to meet and “leave my brand” on you. We both know thats a trap I wont be falling into as I am not “The One” as you called me, but the treacherous bitch that I really am. But you’ll keep trying-your sickness demands it.