The Tragedy of the Narcissist

Photo by Nipan Chawcharernpon on Pexels.com

I loved a boy who was beaten down. I thought my love and care would teach him self love and self worth. 

I loved a boy who was criticized and neglected. I thought my praise and attention would make him feel seen and heard.

I loved a boy who was shamed and rejected. I thought my empathy and inclusion would raise him up.

My boy grew up and he grew bored with my care, with my presence, with my kindness, and thought he knew a better way to live. 

His hubris in believing I was so easily replaced, made him a lonely prisoner in a drafty house where only his memories keep him company. 

He would make flying monkeys of everyone we knew but his grasp at control only shows how sick a narcissist he is.

His flying monkey is young, and gentle, and certain to grow wise…with time. 

Then the boy I loved, who is now a man, will know what loneliness truly is.

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