You’ll never understand the truth of yourself, Narcissist.

You’ll never understand the truth of yourself, Narcissist.

You’ll never understand the truth of yourself, Narcissist.

LTME-postTo the False Idol I worshiped for too long:
You promised a lot, said a lot, faked a lot. You made me believe things that haven’t been true for a long time. You manipulated me, made me believe you. I know you still messed with your ex while you were with me. I know you loved her at the same time you said you loved me. You took the polyamorous girl who actually loved you and manipulated her into leaving the man she loved as well; the man she loved for beyond the nearly-five-years they were together. You played on my love, you played me. I loved you, and I fed your games, unknowing that that’s what they were: Games. I was your little chess piece. I adored you. And your venom stung me deeper into my heart than I’d ever thought possible. You played the past lives game and pretended you were the same person HE was; the real man SHE remembers so well. And you blanked the memories of what happened AFTER. How many times in our past lives you were the end of me. The torch to the pyre, the one to poison my wine. And the glamours you put on me and my house! I’m still unraveling them, still finding my own power! And those who love us both and still love us both side with me because they see you for who you really are… Pure manipulation, narcissism, inability to function outside your own selfishness. I do not hate you, though I did for a long time…
But what I do is know that you are the example of what I will never ever tolerate, ever fucking again. You are the example of what my children will never be, never feel the touch of. You will do as you will do, and I will make an example of you. Because I can’t even think of the good times as good – because they were just the times I was fooled into fun and joy. You tricked me. You are the monster under everyone’s bed, because you prey on the best of everyone you encounter. And then you pretend that they’re crazy. Or imagining things.
So I imagined you putting words in everyone’s mouth?
So I imagined you making your mother out to be a monster?
So I imagined you blaming your absent father for everything?
So our friends imagined the things you said that were complete lies?
I hope someday you get your just desserts. What I mean by that is I hope you find the absolute love of your life, that you get a little time with her, and that she plays you like you played me. I hope you’re well and good and fooled, and I hope you suddenly have that dawning of knowledge: “I am a piece of shit.”
And I hope you figure out how to be the opposite of that.
I hope you better yourself.
And in the end, I have this deep rooted feeling that such a hope is a dead one.
I am no longer deluded enough to care… Goodbye.

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