If you Battled with a Demonic Narcissist you Need to Hear This
But to consume, they don’t just hurt you; they harvest you. Let me say it again: they harvest your light. It’s not poetic; it’s not symbolic; it’s what they do. And that glow you once had—the ease, the joy, the clarity—it becomes dimmer the longer you stay in their orbit.
I’ve been there; I felt that drain. You wake up exhausted even after rest. You cry and don’t know why. You feel like you’re walking underwater in your own life. That’s not stress; that’s not a mood. That’s spiritual depletion. You’ve been mind-hollowed, fed upon. And just when you think you’ve caught your breath, just when you say no more, the real face shows—not with fists, but with fire—the cold fury, the emptiness, the rage.
That should terrify you more than any physical threat. Because it’s not about breaking your bones; it’s about breaking your being. There’s a quote I came across—one of those that stops your heart for just a beat. “Their habit is to draw upon the life force of human beings. They attack and capture vital power wherever they can get it and feed upon it. If they come into your atmosphere, then you suddenly feel depressed and exhausted. If you’re near them for some time, you feel sick. If you live with one of them, it may kill you.”
Tell me that doesn’t hit home. Tell me that isn’t the very thing you lived but couldn’t explain. You weren’t being dramatic; you were being devoured. And yes, it’s hard to accept. You wanted to believe it could get better, that love could save them. But friend, you can’t fill a pit designed to consume. You can’t pour your soul into a creature that exists to drain.
But the good news? You can walk away. And you can walk away in truth, with power, and with your light burning brighter than ever before. Because now you see.
Let me tell you something straight from the battlefield of the soul: awakening doesn’t come gently. It tears, it burns, it rips the blindfold off and shows you the war you were in long before you ever picked up a weapon. I remember when good-hearted friends reached for me, tried to say, “This isn’t love.” But I was gone, wrapped in a dream that wasn’t mine. I wasn’t tied down with ropes; I was entangled in energy, chained in a realm thought couldn’t touch. Logic had no power there. You can’t argue with a spell; you have to wake up from it.
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