When the narcissist can’t look away, let’s sit down a moment—just you and me—and talk plainly, not like scholars spinning theories in ivory towers, but like people who’ve lived, who’ve bled, who’ve seen behind the curtain.
Because when it comes to the narcissist, we’re not talking about love the way folks sing about it in songs. No, we’re talking about a hunger, a haunting, a thirst that keeps coming back dry no matter how deep the well. The narcissist doesn’t fall in love. Not really. What the narcissist craves is a reflection, clean and gleaming, not of who they are, but of who they wish they were. Every interaction, every relationship, is a desperate reach for that mirror.
And then one day, someone shows up. Someone who sees not the wounds tucked behind the arrogance, but the story the narcissist is trying to tell—the legend, the myth of the lie polished so well, it shines like truth. When that person reflects it back, when they mirror the glory the narcissist is trying so hard to fake, that’s when it happens. Not love, but attachment, obsession, a spiritual dependence. Suddenly, the narcissist isn’t walking away; they’re leaning in. Not because their soul’s been healed, but because their mask has found an audience that believes.
That person becomes like breath in lungs that have never known real air. So, why does the narcissist fall? Let me break it down.
They seat their own glory in you. It isn’t compliments they seek; it’s confirmation—confirmation that the fantasy they carry like armor is real. And when someone, without trying, without pandering, just sees them through the lens they want to be seen through, it hits like revelation. The narcissist doesn’t just feel admired; they feel alive, and they start orbiting that person like the sun itself lives inside them—because it does for their ego. That light, that grace, and that reflection become their fuel, too. The illusion of rain without resistance.
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