The mask slips. At first, it’s like walking through a fog—nothing makes sense. One minute, you were everything; the next, you’re standing in the wreckage of what used to be, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. That’s when the desperation kicks in. Maybe you show up at their place hoping for answers. Maybe you fire off texts, call, or scroll through their social media looking for clues—anything to make it make sense. You’re not even looking for an apology, just something real, some proof that what you had actually existed. But here’s the kicker: there’s nothing to find—radio silence or, worse, a response so empty, so dismissive, it leaves you reeling.
And that’s when it happens: the mask comes off. That charming, attentive soulmate version of them is gone. What’s left is something cold, detached, even cruel—like you never mattered, like they were never really there. And that’s the moment, the gut-wrenching moment, where you realize you were never in a relationship with a person; you were in a relationship with an illusion. And now, the illusion is dead.
The narcissist’s favorite drug? Chaos.
See, here’s the thing : narcissists aren’t just addicted to attention; they’re addicted to control. And not just any kind of control—the kind that comes from watching you twist yourself into knots trying to figure them out. Now, you probably thought your love, loyalty, and support meant something to them, that all the good you poured into the relationship had value. But to a narcissist, that’s just background noise. Sure, they’ll take the compliments, the admiration, the adoration, but that’s not the real high.
The real high, the thing that makes their veins light up like a Christmas tree? Your suffering. They feed off negative supply like a junkie on the strongest drug known to man: the heartbreak, the confusion, the emotional outbursts. You trying to fix what’s broken? That’s pure fuel to them. And while you’re sitting there thinking, “How do I make this right?” the narcissist is sitting back, grinning, thinking, “Damn, look at that.” Squirming, begging, still hooked.
And the worst part? They assume you’ll stay like this forever.
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