The love that wasn’t love was chemical warfare—a mix of charm and cruelty, of closeness and confusion, dosed just right to keep you hooked. It was a drug, and now you’re in withdrawal, pacing the ruins, trying to remember who you were before they showed up with their counterfeit affection. This is why they linger—not because they were rare, but because they were designed to haunt the mind. You can’t toss away what altered its very structure.
You’re not broken because you’re haunted; you’re haunted because they trained your nervous system to respond to their chaos. They didn’t just visit your life; they colonized your emotions. Now your brain craves what it used to hate: the drama, the approval, the fix. And the worst part? Even your search for understanding becomes a trap because every question you ask about them is one more step into their maze. But hear this loud and clear: you’re not stuck because you’re weak; you’re stuck because you’re human. Anything that rewires the soul takes time to heal.
But healing is possible. It starts not with forgetting the narcissist, but with remembering yourself—breaking free, taking back what was always yours. You don’t heal from a narcissist by walking away; you heal by waking up. See, distance might stop the phone from ringing, but it won’t stop the echo in your bones. You’ve got to go deeper; you’ve got to unlearn the lie.
Because what you’re feeling—that ache, that pull like gravity wrapped in velvet—it isn’t love; it’s programming. That wasn’t fate pulling at your chest; it was a script, a manipulation masterpiece. And your heart? It’s still stuck on a scene that was never real. But listen to me now: you are not a supporting character in someone else’s drama. You are not a reflection of their praise or punishment. You are not their project; you are not their possession. You’re the author—you’ve always been. It’s time to grab the pen and write again.
It’s time to tear out the pages they tried to own. Time to remember the narcissist wasn’t your destiny; they were your awakening—a brutal, sacred lesson dressed up in charm and chaos. So unlearn the illusion; reclaim your breath, your peace, your purpose, your worth. That was never theirs to steal—the blueprint of control.
Continue reading on the next page
Sharing is caring!
