There’s a silence that follows a storm. One so deep, so hollow, it almost hums. It’s the kind of silence that settles after chaos has clawed through your life and then vanished, leaving behind only questions. And if you’ve ever walked away from a narcissist, you’ve felt that silence. You’ve heard it echo in the corners of your heart, asking the same question again and again: What is the narcissist thinking now? It’s a haunting thought, isn’t it? Because the narcissist doesn’t just fade. The memory doesn’t vanish. That energy doesn’t just dissolve. No, it festers. It broods. It lingers like smoke after the fire, still curling through the air, even when the flames are long gone.
And I want to tell you something straight from my soul: the narcissist hasn’t forgotten you. They can’t forget you. Not because of love, not because of tenderness, but because you are the one who got away. The one who saw the truth behind the charm. The one who stood in the presence of manipulation and had the courage to walk through it without falling. And that kind of memory sticks like a thorn they can’t pull out. Inside the narcissist’s mind is a war that never ends—a battle between the need to erase your name and the inability to let go of what you exposed. You cracked the mirror they lived behind. You shattered the fantasy they tried to feed the world. And now that reflection keeps showing up uninvited, whispering, “You were never in control.”
Oh, they might look calm. They might look successful, but don’t be fooled. The narcissist lives in a house of smoke and mirrors, every room echoing with stories that paint them as the hero or, worse, the victim. And yet, none of it quite adds up—not with you, because you didn’t crumble. You didn’t run. You didn’t come crawling back after the mind games. You left with clarity, with quiet strength, with dignity. And they never saw that coming. The narcissist tells a thousand lies to silence the truth of who you were. They say you were too much, too sensitive, too hard to love. But deep down, that story is a cover, a smoke screen. Because the truth is, they underestimated you. They thought they had time. They thought you’d always be there to explain, to argue, to beg for understanding. But you didn’t. You left the script. You walked off stage. And they’ve been rewriting the ending ever since.
Continue reading on the next page
Sharing is caring!
Leave a Comment