I am the narcissist. My love is conditional. My love is passive-aggressive. My love is jealous. My love hurts. My love is like the thorns on a rose. You pick me up, thinking I am beautiful, then you drop me to the ground realizing that I’ve just cut you and made you bleed.
My love isn’t what you thought it was. My love isn’t real. My love isn’t the fairy tale that you have imagined it would be. My love is cruel. My love is bitter, like a mouthful of stale, swilled coffee. My love is abusive and controlling. My love is violent.
My love will result in you having broken bones. It will result in your hospitalization to a mental ward with PTSD, depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideations. It will cause you headaches and cracked skulls and traumatic brain injuries.
It will lead to your having to flee for your life. It will lead to you begging and pleading others to get me away from you. It will lead to you having to run to your estranged family and friends for respite after I have isolated you for years on end. It will lead to you being financially and emotionally devastated, having sunk every ounce of your resources into me.