The Narcissist´s Rejection of Love
In the dimly lit chamber, where shadows danced upon the crumbling walls, I stand before you, a harbinger of disdain for that wretched notion called love. With every word that drips from my venomous tongue, I shall unravel the intricacies of this cursed emotion, revealing the putrid core that lies beneath its deceptive guise.
Love, they say, is a force that binds souls together, entwining them in a web of passion and devotion. But I, dear listeners, have peeled back the layers of this delusion, and what lies beneath is a grotesque mockery of reason and sanity.
Love, with its tendrils of desire, ensnares the unwary like a venomous serpent, injecting its toxic elixir into their veins. It distorts perception, blinding the eyes to the flaws and shortcomings of the beloved, creating an illusion of perfection where none exists. It is a cruel trick, a masquerade of emotions that lures the innocent into its clutches, leaving them vulnerable and bereft of reason.
In the name of love, sanity is forsaken, boundaries are shattered, and souls are laid bare. It is a maddening dance, where the heart leads, and the mind is but a feeble servant. Reason is cast aside, and in its place, a whirlwind of irrationality reigns supreme. How can one trust an emotion that blinds, that distorts, that consumes every fiber of one’s being?
But it is not only the blindness that love inflicts that stirs my contempt. No, there is a deeper, more sinister aspect to this abomination. Love breeds dependency, a sickening reliance on another for one’s own happiness and sense of self. It reduces individuals to mere fragments of their former selves, clinging desperately to the whims and affections of another.
Oh, the lengths to which people will go in the name of love. They sacrifice their dreams, their ambitions, and their very souls, all in a futile attempt to please their beloved. They become slaves to their own emotions, trapped in a never-ending cycle of desire and despair.
And what do they gain from this self-imposed servitude? Heartache, betrayal, and the crushing weight of unfulfilled expectations. Love is a cruel mistress, toying with the hearts of its victims, leaving them broken and shattered in its wake. It whispers sweet promises, only to snatch them away with a devilish grin, leaving naught but emptiness and despair.
So, I stand before you, my dear listeners, a voice in the darkness, proclaiming my contempt for love. It is a plague upon the human spirit, a deception that wraps its tendrils around the hearts of the unsuspecting. Beware its siren song, for in its wake, it leaves nothing but a trail of shattered souls and shattered dreams. Embrace reason, embrace autonomy, and cast aside the chains of this wretched emotion.
In the dark recesses of the heart, where shadows dance with desire, love emerges as a deceptive specter, cloaked in its seductive charm. Ah, love, the treacherous muse that haunts the souls of the unsuspecting, leading them astray upon a winding path of despair and longing. As I stand here, amidst the crumbling ruins of other´s shattered dreams, I bear witness to the tragedy that is love’s cruel game.
Love, with its tendrils of obsidian, weaves a tapestry of illusions, ensnaring the unwary in its intricate web. It whispers sweet promisesluring the desperate souls who dare to venture near. Oh, how it disguises itself in the semblance of joy, wrapping its tendrils around the heart, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. It blinds you to the truth, transforming reality into a distorted reflection of your desires.
In the dimly lit corridors of a decaying castle, love’s deceitful presence looms, casting long shadows upon the crumbling walls. Like a Gothic novel’s protagonist, you find yourself caught in a swirling tempest of emotions, tormented by a love that is both exhilarating and agonizing. It tempts you with fleeting moments of ecstasy, only to snatch them away with a cruel, mocking laugh.
With each step you take through this labyrinth of emotions, love becomes a monstrous apparition, a creature of darkness that feasts upon the vulnerability of the human heart. Its touch is cold, its embrace suffocating, as it engulfs the soul in a vortex of passion and despair. It renders you helpless, prisoners of your own desires, as you yearn for a love that may never be.
Yet, despite the torment, you willingly surrender yourselves to its enchantment, for love is the opium that numbs your senses and dulls your reason. You become enamored with the idea of love, craving its intoxicating embrace, even as it consumes you from within. Its tendrils tighten, shackling your hearts and minds, leaving you gasping for breath in its suffocating grip.
As the moon casts its ghostly glow upon these desolate grounds, I stand as a testament to love’s malevolence. My heart, a hollow chamber filled with echoes of shattered promises and broken dreams, bears witness to the tragedy that unfolds when love misleads. Love, the deceptive seductress, dances upon the fragments of you, leaving you forever haunted by its beauty.
So, dear listener, take heed of this cautionary tale. Beware the allure of love, for its ethereal beauty masks a darkness that can consume you whole. For once you succumb to its enchantment, you may find yourself lost in a labyrinth of longing, forever ensnared in love’s choking embrace.



After being in love with various people so many times, I’m hanging up my chaps. Ever since I started feeling better about myself I’m much more purely lusty and less prone to hearts and flowers. The fog of love is lifting for me in several ways. That coronary pitter-pat that usually began to rope me in–I just thoroughly enjoy that delicious feeling of desire now and it doesn’t get drastic. I can freely admit I detest my father, which feels good. I hate–truly hate and wish fire upon–a certain person and I hope his penis gets skin failure. That’s wonderful!
Er–present company excluded…
I’m looking more clearly at all my relationships. Some heads are gonna roll around here.
I still experience the constant strumming of loneliness, but love never fixed that anyway. The loneliness is just one of my glitches. The more I accept it as a fact of my mix the easier it is to address it.
“I love you.” It’s getting harder to say and harder to mean. But what did I mean? Take my money. Throw things at my head. Smile at me. Cuddle me in bed.
Love always came with the understanding that I would be around for the no-matter-what. The no-matter-what always knocked. But that was never reciprocated. And would I really want it to be?
One thing I do know about love: I love this damn sofa. My god, it’s beautiful. It supports me without being squishy, it has just the right amount of bounce, it looks sleek and modern but not too contemporary, great bones (kiln-dried hardwood frame), handcrafted 8-way hand tied suspension, goose down with proper ticking, it loves good books, and it’s all ensconced in a tactile, pleasing, high rub count wool the color of a deadly tornado sky. It holds up to rounds of Netflix, my studies, my activities with my ever-growing box of tools for the womanly arts, and it looks great doing it. I can honestly say I’ve never known such passionate devotion. And as good as it is to be in, it’s even better to get up off it. It doesn’t try to hold me down. I can spend hours being busy around the house, stealing quick admiring glances, and just getting on with things.
I fucking love this damn sofa.
Don’t worry, daddy. Let babygirl fluff those gorgeous pillows.
Love.
A word. A concept. Projection.
Naming a cocktail of chemical reactions and hormones with one word in hope that in doing so, there exists a singular confirmed entity to aspire to, but one that will be returned to us in a way that is acceptable to each individual definition. It’s own religion.
Dear HG,
Love is, D. None of the above. What you describe isn’t love, but I believe it’s what you come to see love is to you. It’s not real love and I know, you know what real love is, what it’s about, involves and protects.
I understand this is the way a narcissist subconscienously thinks of love, sees love and turns love into the mind games of manipulation and pain. Very well written, HG, dark, but understandable. Xx
You described trauma bond, not love. And addiction. The empath needs the narcissist like you need fuel.
Love is not like that. Love is peace and happiness. Love is oxytocin, a great hormon that deeply connect people, calm and heal them.
Trauma bond is high level of dopamine which give people pleasure and extasy, and then extreme low level, which give them aggony and despair. And high fluctuation between this two levels. Is addiction, not love.
In healthy relations dopamine is almost aways at medium, which means motivation. It can be sometimes higher and sometimes lower, but never too high and never too low. And it quiqly return to medium. But oxytocin is almost always very high because of deep true connection. What a great hormone is this! It can even heal physical pain! Never let dopamine collapse and can even produce it when needed.
That’s why normal people never need fuel. That is why they are happy. Their body already produce all the fuel they need.
I saw this difference between the relation I have with my narcissist and the relation I have with my daughter. Trauma bond vs true deep love. They are definitely not the same thing.