If you Battled with a Demonic Narcissist you Need to Hear This
And the only way out? Clarity, distance, and God’s own hand breaking the contract you didn’t know you signed. Let me tell you something else that’ll make the hair stand on your skin: the rush, that whirlwind at the beginning, the fast affection, the sudden intimacy, the move-in proposal you never saw coming—that wasn’t love. That was a raid. That was an orchestrated ambush dressed in flowers and charm.
You weren’t courted; you were targeted. They needed access because once you’re under the same roof, within reach, wrapped in their atmosphere, that’s when the feeding begins—the draining, the breaking, the soul siphoning. And the faster you’re captured, the less chance you have to see it coming.
They say things like, “We’re soulmates. I’ve never felt this before. It’s destiny.” And you believe it because the light inside you is honest, but their words are hooks, and their eyes are nets, and your light—that’s the prize.
And here’s where it gets deeper. The mystics, the prophets, they tried to warn us long before psychology had the language. The saints knew; the scriptures knew: “Wrestle not against flesh and blood.” We know that verse, but now we live that verse. These aren’t just troubled people. Some of them are vessels—fully inhabited, fully weaponized.
But not all narcissists are possessed. Some are just broken, hollow, echoing the pain that once crushed them. You’ll know the difference. You’ll feel it in your bones. You’ll dream about it and wake up with your spirit aching, like you were clawed in your sleep. Because some of them hunt, and they dismantle the sacred.
And after the destruction, they vanish like shadows at dawn, leaving you gasping in the silence, trying to gather the fragments of who you used to be. But let me tell you something that hell itself cannot erase: you’re not crazy. What you saw was real. What you felt was spiritual. And what you survived was war.
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