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Physical Address
304 North Cardinal St.
Dorchester Center, MA 02124
Let’s talk
Not from a textbook. Not from a polished podcast expert. But from that place in your gut where you’ve sat back and wondered, “Was it me? Or was that… something darker?”
Because if you’re here, maybe someone shattered your peace with charm that felt like love, then slowly drained the life out of you. Maybe you’re questioning yourself. Maybe you’ve already Googled the word narcissist more times than you’d like to admit. Or maybe just maybe you’ve caught a glimpse of those traits in yourself, and it scared you.
Truth is, narcissism isn’t always loud or violent. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sweet, even. It shows up as the one who “loves too hard,” but only when you worship them. It hides behind compliments that twist into control. It starts with admiration and ends with isolation. And if you’re not careful, you’ll call it love. You’ll fight to keep it. And lose parts of yourself in the process.
This piece isn’t just to define narcissism you can find that anywhere. We’re going deeper.
We’re unpacking what actually drives a narcissist. What’s really going on beneath the surface.
Because awareness is survival. And understanding is power.
So, whether you’ve loved one, been raised by one, worked for one, or become one without realizing it
This is for you.
Let’s unpack the mind they don’t want you to understand.
Here’s the part they don’t want you to see: most narcissists aren’t overflowing with confidence they’re starving for it.
That loud ego? It’s a cover. A survival tool. A costume they’ve worn so long, even they forget it’s not real skin.
Beneath the arrogance is a fragile, deeply wounded sense of self-worth. That’s why they constantly need praise, attention, and validation, it’s not greed, it’s survival. They build their identity on how others see them. So when admiration fades, they don’t just feel ignored they feel like they’re disappearing.
It’s wild how someone can walk into a room and demand all the air, all the light, all the eyes… and yet inside, feel like nothing. But that’s the game. That’s the addiction. And that’s why they panic when you stop clapping.
Their sense of self doesn’t come from within. It’s built on mirrors, yours, mine, anyone who’ll reflect something flattering. The moment those mirrors crack, they don’t self-reflect they blame, shame, and manipulate to get that reflection back.
And if you’re in a relationship with them, that reflection becomes you.
Suddenly, your role is to constantly reassure them. Constantly feed them. But it’s never enough. You’ll feel like you’re pouring your love into a black hole, because you are.
They don’t need love. They need supply. And those are not the same thing.
Here’s the trap: narcissists don’t just pretend to be special they need to be.
Not for glory. For survival.
Because behind all that flexing is a deep fear they’re nothing without the show.
The grandiosity, the “I’m better than everyone,” the exaggerations, the constant need to be seen, praised, envied, it’s not just arrogance. It’s armor.
They’ve convinced themselves that if they stop performing, people will see the shame they’ve buried since childhood. The wounds. The feeling of never being enough. And they can’t let that happen. Ever.
So they craft a persona.
They become the charming one. The successful one. The irresistible one. The genius. The alpha.
They create a character so convincing that even they start to believe it.
Until reality shows up in the form of criticism, rejection, or someone seeing through the cracks and suddenly, the performance isn’t enough. And that’s when the rage, coldness, or manipulation hits.
Because once the mask slips, they’ll do anything to keep it from falling.
You’ll notice it in small moments:
See, grandiosity isn’t about self-love. It’s about fear.
The kind of fear that says: If I’m not above you, I’m nothing.
And the scary part? You might fall in love with the mask.
Not realizing it was never real to begin with.
To a narcissist, control is love.
Power is safety.
And domination? That’s how they stay afloat in a world they secretly feel powerless in.
They don’t trust love the way you do. They don’t see connection as something sacred they see it as a risk. Because love makes you vulnerable. Love means someone else can see you, hold you, hurt you. And a narcissist can’t survive that kind of closeness.
So what do they do instead?
They turn love into a power game.
They keep the upper hand.
They stay in control of your emotions, your thoughts, your self-worth, because losing control means losing themselves.
You’ll feel it when:
And here’s the kicker: they’ll never admit they’re doing it.
They’ll call it “love.”
They’ll say you’re the unstable one.
You’re too sensitive.
You’re overreacting.
But deep down, it’s all about control, because if they control you, they don’t have to confront themselves.
And if they feel above you, they don’t have to feel how deeply unworthy they actually believe they are.
Control makes them feel safe.
Power makes them feel real.
But it leaves you feeling empty, confused, and like you’re slowly disappearing.
Empathy should come naturally, right?
Feeling someone’s pain. Sitting with it. Holding space.
But for the narcissist, empathy feels like weakness.
It’s foreign. Dangerous. Even threatening.
Most narcissists aren’t born heartless they’re shaped by environments where vulnerability wasn’t safe. Maybe they were raised by parents who only gave love when they performed. Maybe their own emotions were ignored, mocked, or punished. So, they learned young: feeling too much gets you hurt.
So they hardened.
They built walls around their heart.
And now, when you’re crying in front of them, they don’t come closer they shut down or twist the knife deeper.
Because your pain does one of two things in their mind:
This is why, when you express hurt, they often respond with annoyance or cruelty.
Why they seem emotionally absent when you need them most.
Why they say things like, “You’re too emotional,” or “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
They’re not wired for emotional connection. They’re wired for protection of themselves.
And even when they mimic empathy (because they can fake it), it’s usually strategic.
They’ll give you just enough to keep you there, to look like the hero, to reel you back in.
But it’s not the kind that sees you. It’s not the kind that feels with you.
Real empathy requires self-awareness.
It requires stillness.
It requires facing pain, both yours and theirs.
And a narcissist avoids that at all costs.
If you strip everything away, the ego, the charm, the manipulation, the coldness what’s left underneath most narcissists is this one thing:
A deep, unhealed fear of being abandoned.
It’s their core wound.
And it’s terrifying.
It haunts them even when they don’t have the words for it.
Even when they’re the one walking away.
Somewhere in their early story, someone made them feel like love could disappear. That affection was conditional. That being seen, truly seen led to shame, punishment, or neglect. And so they learned to survive by never letting anyone that close again.
But here’s the twisted part:
They crave intimacy.
They want to be loved.
They just don’t trust it.
So instead of leaning into closeness, they start pushing and pulling. Testing you. Hurting you. Controlling you.
Because if they can keep you off balance, they don’t have to fear you leaving.
They’ll leave first, emotionally, mentally, sometimes even physically because they believe love is unsafe. That it’s better to destroy connection than be the one left behind.
And when you do finally try to walk away?
They panic.
Not because they love you in the way you deserve.
But because your absence threatens the very identity they’ve built.
You were part of their supply. You reflected back the image they needed.
Without you, they’re alone with themselves and that’s a place they don’t know how to survive.
So they might beg. Or guilt-trip. Or rage.
They might pretend to change.
But it’s not about healing it’s about holding on to the control they’re terrified to lose.
Because to a narcissist, rejection doesn’t just hurt, it shatters them.
And abandonment? That’s the ultimate confirmation of the thing they’ve feared all along:
That they’re not truly lovable. Not as they are. Not without the mask.
At some point, the spotlight fades.
The compliments quiet down.
The people stop clapping.
And that’s when the narcissist starts to crumble.
See, their entire identity is built on external validation. Applause is oxygen. Praise is fuel. Attention is their heartbeat.
Without it?
They don’t just feel ignored.
They feel invisible.
That’s when the cracks show.
Suddenly, the charm turns cold. The “perfect partner” becomes distant. That confident, magnetic energy begins to rot into bitterness, rage, or crushing insecurity.
Why?
Because without constant reflection from others, they have no clear sense of self.
It’s like a mirror shattering and what’s left behind is something even they can’t bear to look at.
You’ll notice the shift.
They become hypersensitive to criticism.
They start picking fights.
They isolate.
Or they chase a new source of supply someone else to adore them, validate them, worship them.
But it’s always temporary.
Because no amount of external validation can fill an internal void. And deep down, they know that.
That’s why it never ends. Why they’re never satisfied. Why, even after getting what they begged for, your love, your energy, your soul they still feel empty.
And if you’re still in the picture during this collapse, they might project that emptiness onto you.
Blame you.
Accuse you of changing.
Say you never loved them.
But the truth?
You were never the problem.
You were the mirror.
And they couldn’t stand what they saw when the reflection stopped flattering them.
The scariest thing about narcissism?
You often don’t know you’re in it until pieces of you start going missing.
Your confidence. Your voice. Your sense of self.
And by the time you realize what’s happening, you’re already deep rationalizing red flags, second-guessing your reality, and calling manipulation “misunderstanding.”
But this right here, this moment of awareness is your turning point.
Because once you understand the narcissist’s mindset, you stop taking their behavior personally.
You stop bending yourself to please someone who can’t be pleased.
You stop trying to love someone who only loves what you give them, not who you are.
And you start choosing you again.
Let that be your power:
To name the pattern.
To honor your truth.
To break the cycle.
No more shrinking. No more explaining. No more giving oxygen to someone who never learned how to breathe on their own.
You deserve love that doesn’t require your silence.
You deserve connection without the fear of walking on eggshells.
You deserve peace, the kind that isn’t followed by panic.
And if you’ve seen parts of yourself in this post, maybe behaviors you don’t like, patterns you’re afraid of that’s not the end of your story.
That’s the beginning of change. And change starts with truth.
Thanks for riding through this with me.
If this piece found you at the right time sit with it. Share it. Whisper it to someone who needs it.
Josiah, Whispered Picks
Real talks. Quiet truths. Loud healing.
This is really powerful. And it has left me in a self check test to empower my awareness