Why the Narcissist Ends Up Hating the New Supply Too 

Oh, beloved soul, let me pull you in close. Yes, you—the one with the quiet “H” and the questions that echo in the silence of the night. Let me tell you something raw, something burning with truth, something holy. When the narcissist walks away, they don’t walk into joy; they walk into another lie, a familiar lie, a recycled theater of illusions dressed up in borrowed light.

Now I know what it looks like. Oh, I’ve seen the show before, too. The narcissist seems lit up again, dancing in the spotlight, flaunting a new hand to hold, pouring on the charm like they’ve been reborn. But hear me when I say this: that’s not joy; that’s camouflage. That new supply they’ve chosen is now soaking in the attention that once drenched your soul.

That’s not love. Oh, that’s not even affection. That is a setup, a strategy. You see, the narcissist isn’t in love with this new person. In truth, the narcissist despises them already—maybe not openly, not yet, but deep down they know. They know this new one is just another pawn in a cycle that never ends. And that new soul, that eager heart, is sitting where you once sat—in the very seat you barely escaped from. The curtains haven’t even risen yet on the pain that’s coming their way.

Let’s not lie to ourselves, friend. Let’s not rewrite history. You remember those early days, don’t you? When the narcissist looked at you like you were sunlight in human form? When the words felt like honey, and you thought, “Finally, someone who sees me.” That wasn’t love; that was performance—a perfectly timed charm offensive, a trap wrapped in compliments and kissed with false promises. It wasn’t love; it was a net. And when it tightened, it left bruises no one else could see.

Now that same act is playing out all over again, only now it’s another soul caught in the dream. But you know better. You’ve seen behind the curtain; you’ve heard the tone shift; you’ve felt the coldness seep in like winter through cracked windows.