They don’t actually want the empath back; they want access to their emotions, their energy, their attention. Because without that, the narcissist feels powerless. When they realize they’ve lost that power, that’s when they start grasping at straws. They replay every old trick in the book, hoping one still works. They push, they provoke, they test the waters—anything to see if there’s still some part of the empath that will come crawling back.
But when the empath finally understands what’s really going on, when they see the pattern for what it is, there’s no coming back. The spell is broken, the cycle is over, and for the narcissist, that’s checkmate.
Let’s cut the fluff and get right to it. There’s a moment—a sharp, crystal-clear moment—when a person wakes up and realizes something gut-wrenching: the narcissist is not worth the energy, not worth the time, not worth another second of mental real estate. It doesn’t happen all at once; some wrestle with lingering feelings, the “what ifs,” the memories of the good moments. That’s normal; that’s human. But eventually, the switch flips, the fog lifts, and when it does, that’s when the door slams—no crack, not left ajar, but slammed locked, reinforced with steel.
And the narcissist? Oh, they feel that. They never really loved the person they lost; what they loved was control. They loved knowing they could push a button and get a response, that at any moment they could stir up a little chaos and have the person right back where they wanted them—questioning, doubting, second-guessing. But when that stops, when their texts go unanswered, when their name is nothing but an afterthought, when they know they can’t manipulate anymore—that’s when the real panic sets in.
Continue reading on the next page
Sharing is caring!
Leave a Comment