I love you’ are the absolute most intense words one individual can say to another, and keeping in mind that their significance is universal, once in a while the individual saying them can’t get a handle on this importance.
This letter is to the deplorable numerous that have fallen in love for somebody who will dependably adore themselves more than they can love another. It’s composed from the perspective of the narcissist never going to budge on holding that individual under their thumb.
Dear Codependent Partner,
What I’m going to state isn’t something I’d ever say or concede (to you), in light of the fact that to do as such would end the champ takes-all-amusement that is my fundamental wellspring of joy in life — one that adequately keeps you conveying my heap in our relationship.
What’s more, that is the general purpose.
When I say “I love you” I imply that I cherish how hard you function to influence me to feel like your beginning and end, that I am the concentration of your life, that you need me to be glad, and that I’ll never be required to do likewise.
I love the power I need to exploit your generosity and aims to be decent, and the joy I infer when I influence myself to feel enormous in contrast with you, accepting each open door to influence you to feel little and irrelevant.
I love the inclination it gives me considering you powerless, helpless, candidly cushy, and I adore looking down on you for your honest blamelessness and guilelessness, as shortcoming.
I love the way I feel realizing that, using gaslighting, what you need to talk about or address will never happen, and I cherish this “power” to prepare you to feel “insane” for asking or raising issues that don’t intrigue me, adequately, regularly bringing down your desires of me and what I’m equipped for giving you, while I up mine of you.
I love that it is so natural to keep your sole concentrate on easing my torment (never yours!), and that, in any case what you do, you’ll never influence me to feel adequate, sufficiently adored, regarded enough, sufficiently refreshing, et cetera. (Despairing people tend to be desperate for kindred spirits.)
(It’s not about the closeness, empathy, enthusiastic association you need, or what I did that hurt or humiliated you, or how little time I go through drew in with you or the youngsters, et cetera. It’s about my status and doing my business to keep you in your place, in torment, concentrated on feeling my torment, blocking you from feeling esteemed in connection to me. I’m better and entitled than all the delight, deference, and ameliorating between us, recollect?)
“I love you” implies I adore the way I feel when you are with me, all the more particularly, seeing you as a bit of property I claim, my ownership. Like driving a hot auto, I adore the degree to which you improve my status according to others, telling them that I’m big enchilada, et cetera. I cherish supposing others are desirous of my belonging.
I love the power I need to keep you endeavoring to demonstrate your adoration and dedication, pondering what else you have to do to “demonstrate” your steadfastness.
“I love you” implies I love the way I feel when I’m with you. Because of how frequently I despise and look down on others when all is said in done, the mirror neurons in my cerebrum keep me always encountering sentiments of self-hatred; in this manner, I cherish that I can love myself through you, and furthermore adore abhorring you for my “poverty” of relying on you or anybody for anything.
I love that you are there to accuse at whatever point I feel this “poverty”; feeling hate for you appears to shield me from something I would rather not concede, that I feel absolutely reliant on you to “sustain” my feeling of predominance and privilege, and to keep my fantasy of energy alive in my brain.
(Nothing influences me to feel more delicate and helpless than not having control over something that would discolor my picture and predominant status, for example, when you question “how” I treat you, as though despite everything you don’t comprehend that motivating you to acknowledge yourself as a protest for my pleasure, cheerful paying little heed to how I treat you, or the kids — is key evidence of my prevalence, to the world. You’re my ownership, recollect? I must show you to despise and act calloused toward those “insane” things that lone “powerless” individuals require, for example, “closeness” and “passionate stuff;” and coincidentally, I know this “works” on the grounds that my adolescence showed me to do this to myself inside.)
It influences me to illuminate with delight (more confirmation of my prevalence) that I can undoubtedly get you bothered, influence you to act “insane” over not getting what you need from me, influence you to rehash yourself, and say and do things that you’ll later abhor yourself for (due to your “niceness”!). All that you say, any damages or protestations you share, you can make sure, I’ll insult you with later, to keep you regularly wasting your time, consistently attempting to account for yourself, consistently questioning yourself and confounded, endeavoring to make sense of why I don’t “get” it.
(There’s nothing to get! To break the code, you’d need to look through my perspective, not yours! I must show finish lack of engagement in your passionate needs, damages, needs, and to prepare, reject and rebuff as needs be, until the point that you take in your “lesson,” that is: To have your spot as a voiceless protest, an ownership has no want but to serve my pleasure and comfort, and never a conclusion on how its treated!)
(That you can’t make sense of this, after all the ways I’ve abused you, to me, is confirmation of my hereditary predominance. In my playbook, those with predominant qualities are never kind, but to bait and catch their casualties!)
I love that I can influence you to feel shaky without a moment’s notice, particularly by offering thoughtfulness regarding other ladies (maybe likewise others when all is said in done, companions, relatives, kids, and so forth … the rundown is unending). What control this offers me to put a show of what you don’t get from me, to insult and influence you to ask for what I effectively provide for others, asking why it’s so natural to give what you need to others, to express sentiments or warmth, to give compliments, that is, the point at which it serves my pleasure (for this situation, to watch you squirm).
I love the power I need to get you back at whatever point you undermine to leave, by tossing a couple of morsels your way, and observing how rapidly I can talk you into believing me when I turn on the appeal, misdirecting you into considering, this time, I’ll change.
“I love you” implies I require you on the grounds that, because of the self-hatred I convey inside, I require somebody who won’t forsake me that I can use as a punching sack, to influence myself to feel great by influencing them to feel awful about themselves. (This is the means by which I joy myself, and the way I numb, deny the startling emotions I convey inside that I want to never concede, ever. I despise any indications of shortcoming in me, which is the reason I loathe you, and every one of those I consider substandard, doltish, weak, et cetera.)
“I love you” implies that I love settling and molding your contemplations and convictions, being responsible for your brain, with the goal that you consider me your marvel and hero, a wellspring of life and sustenance you rely upon, and ricocheting back to, similar to gravity, regardless of how high you endeavor to take off or bounce.
I love that this influences me to feel like a divine being, to keep you so engaged (fixated… ) with influencing me to feel worshiped and revered, yielding everything for me to substantiate yourself so I don’t denounce you, looking to please none other, and intrinsically, with sole rights to direct rewards and disciplines however i see fit.
I love the amazing way I can utilize my energy to hold you down, questioning and second-speculating yourself, scrutinizing your rational soundness, fixated on accounting for yourself to me (and others), maintaining your steadfastness, pondering what’s off with you (rather than understanding that … you can’t make somebody “upbeat” who infers their feeling of energy and joy from feeling despise for others … and you!).
“I love you” implies I love the way I feel when I see myself through your appreciating eyes, that you’re my vibe great medication, my devoted gathering of people, my greatest fan and admirer, et cetera. You, and specifically, you’re admiring me, irrefutably, as your failing to err, omniscient, all-powerful wellspring of learning is my medication of decision. (You may have seen how unstable I am at any indications of being question; yes, I despise how delicate I feel at any indication of suspecting that you, or the world, could judge me as having neglected to keep my belonging in line.)
What’s more, I love that, regardless of how hard you ask and argue for my love and reverence, to feel esteemed in kind, it won’t occur, insofar as I’m in charge. For what reason would I let it, when I’m snared on getting joy from denying you of anything that would be twist underneath your wings, gambling you’d take off from me? It gives me incredible delight to not give you what you long for, the delicacy you need and need, and to blast your each fantasy and air pocket, at that point letting myself know, “I’m no trick.”
I love that I can control your endeavors to get “through” to me, by controlling your psyche, specifically, by moving the concentration of any “discourse” onto what isn’t right with you, your inability to acknowledge and influence me to feel loved, adequate — and obviously, helping you to remember whatever I’ve improved the situation you, and how careless you are.
I love the wonderful way I skillfully control others’ feelings of you also, motivating them to favor me as the “great” fellow, and side against you as the “awful” fellow, depicting you as penniless, forever discontent, continually griping, narrow minded and controlling, and so forth.
I love the delightful way simple it is for me to state “No!” to what may give you a feeling of significant worth and criticalness in connection to me, with unlimited reasons, and that I rather keep your attention on my necessities and needs, my inconveniences or torment.
I love feeling that I possess your musings, your desire, and guaranteeing your needs and needs are exclusively centered around not annoying me, keeping me upbeat.
I love being a medication of decision you “need to” have, paying little respect to how I abuse you, regardless of the considerable number of signs that your dependence on me is emptying the vitality out of your life, that you are in danger of losing increasingly of what you most esteem, and hold dear, to incorporate your loved ones, and the individuals who love and bolster you.
I love that I can disconnect you from other people who may feed you, and break the spell, and I love influencing you to doubt them, so you close nobody else truly needs to endure you, yet me.
I love that I can influence you to feel I’m helping you out by being with you and tossing scraps your direction. Like a vacuum, the void inside me is in consistent need of sucking the life and breath and imperativeness you convey to my life, which I long for like a medication that can never fulfill, that I battle to accumulate, and despise the prospect of sharing.
While I hate you and my dependence on your minding consideration, my poverty keeps me needing to see myself through your minding eyes, ever prepared to appreciate, revere, pardon, rationalize me, and fall for my falsehoods and traps.
I love that you continue disclosing to me the amount I hurt you, not realizing that, to me, this resembles a free advertising report, which tells me how powerful my strategies have been to keep you in torment, concentrated on mitigating my torment — so I am ever the champ in this opposition — guaranteeing that you never debilitate (control) me with your love-and passionate closeness stuff.
To put it plainly, when I say “I love you,” I love the power I need to remain a secret that you’ll never fathom in light of what you don’t have a clue (and decline to trust), that: the special case who can win this zero-total champ takes-all amusement is the person who knows “the guidelines.” My feeling of energy lays on guaranteeing you never prevail at convincing me to go along with you in making a commonly kind relationship on the grounds that, in my perspective, being defenseless, candidly expressive, kind, mindful, compassionate, guiltless are indications of shortcoming, verification of inadequacy.
Thanks, but no thanks, I’m set out to remain on my champ takes-all ground, ever in rivalry for the prize, bragging in my narcissistic capacity to be inhumane, insensitive, icy, ascertaining … and pleased, to guarantee my destitution for a feeling of predominance isn’t hampered.