A letter to my narcissist.

Dear Nex,

Thank you for the memories that scarred my soul and maimed my self-esteem, you pile of anglerfish sh*t. Thanks for taking my sanity and then accusing me of instability that were the effects of your personality disorder. Thank you.

I should seriously forget how many people told me “it’s good you got this experience because now you know,” but this phrase echoes in my head and repeats. It never goes away.

I can’t think without your piney voice snorting “you’re doing it wrong,” like a siren in my head; without the pain in my chest while I second-guess myself listening to the person I’m supposed to trust. Did you ever even trust me?

You say all men can’t be friends with women and you’re the exception, but the only thing I see is a man who isn’t worthy of anyone’s companionship while my male friends beg me to cut you out of my life like the tumor you are, and I stayed because I placed trust in a literal fucking parasite of a human being. Did you ever consider looking yourself in the mirror long enough to notice your nasty ass hair and gigantic nose have first place prize in being the fugliest pieces of your body anyone’s ever seen? Always, always… you thought you were so great. You ever think of criticizing yourself for once, you perverted, cocaine-addicted sociopath?

You don’t consider, you move with a flame that engulfs everyone you leave behind. It envelops cities and towns and burns them down and while we all scream out you look to the crowd and smirk. What are we going to do about it?

No one wants to get involved. It’s too dangerous, too complex, but I tried to be brave and stand up to him; I swear I tried, but my failure haunts me to this day and swarms my nightmares like locusts at the eve of day - I just can’t shake those anchors of your words. Their weight is simply too great.

Even when I cry, I try to wring it all out like a nasty wet towel, but there’s still leftovers of the muck and yuck of your privileged life you so proudly boast to anyone who is unfortunate enough to cross your path. I was one, and I listened fervently because I cared that something could make you so happy. I didn’t say a word about the materialism tainting your soul; but can’t you see that you’ve tainted me? You didn’t want me to be dirty, you expected me to be clean so you could use me - and you did one last time as you chuckled an ominous nasally chortle. I fucking hate you.

And you asked to be friends. In response to that, I took the fire you used to make third-degree burns on me and used it on you - you didn’t know what to do. You ran and you hid, especially given my response to you wanting to meet in person post-breakup. You selfish fucking pig. Take your dick scum you’re so proud of and slathered all over my belongings and taste it for yourself, because I always refused, knowing I was being used. Fuck you. You know something?

All I ever wanted was love and an apology… And I would have picked myself up and been the best I could be. Why wasn’t I worth trying for? You always saw the worst in me, complaining that I’m manipulative but I got so lost in your words I forgot… the problem was you. And I’m so very afraid I’ll never truly process that fact… I’m always terrified now, you see… I tremble and shake with the weight that you’ve placed upon me because I just can’t take what demons you’ve bound to me nor can I face the monster you’ve created then trapped and locked with bolt and key. It was your burden to bear and you couldn’t anymore. Can’t you pass it off in therapy? Can’t my therapy take it away from me? I can’t do this anymore, this internal battle is taking a toll I just want to be free but I’m starting to think that freedom will never be.

Unfortunately with love,

Me.