Wicked Dames by Vlad Voloshin I absolutely bow down in rapt admiration of Vlad Voloshin's photographic genius! I'm a fan of Film Noir, and his work takes the beauty of it and does something a little bit extra and so deliciously and beautifully wicked with it. Why is this with this post? Why not! The... Continue Reading →
This is a very poignant story. Is it fictional or is it non-fiction hidden within the safety of fiction? The feelings within it are very real. And that which it inspires is very real.
And if you’ve been in a relationship with a Narcissist, then you know all too well how the boundaries between what is real and what is unreal can blur, often making the unreal more real than reality.
Confused ?… confusion is at the core of Narcissistic abuse. They are very confused, but they don’t own their confusion, they pass it on to you and leave you to deal with it.
Once you’ve read this, please take the time to read this too: Leaving Your Narcissist – Which Path Will You Take?
** A fictional piece about the evil of Narcissism
When I first met Alyssa, she was a sweet, vibrant woman who had built up her business as a Life Coach in only eighteen months. She lived three houses down from me and would often invite me in for coffee after my morning run. That was, until she met Ethan.
I always felt there was something “off” about Ethan, but Alyssa thought he was a prince. He moved in with her shortly after they started dating and I began to see her less and less until the only time I would see her was when she left for work.
The last time I saw her, she looked old and broken… an apparition of the woman she’d once been. She’d stopped me during my jog and gave me a worn leather journal and told me that if anything ever happened to her…
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A Year Ago Today – I wrote and posted this (on my tumblr, my WordPress had yet to be born and wasn’t even a twinkle in my eye – it’s a blazing Sun warming my heart now but that’s another story). I’m surprised how good this is… did I really write it!?! Well, I know I lived it, so that’s something!
Once upon a time two little teaspoons went missing, or so the Lady of Cutlery thought. She didn’t bother to look for the little teaspoons. She wasn’t really the least bit interested in the welfare of the teaspoons at all. Her only interest was in the fact that she believed them to be missing, and that someone else was to blame for the crime against cutlery. She was very angry. Livid. Her rancour needed an outlet. So she sought out a vessel into which she could pour her fury.
A child wandered into the kitchen and was immediately chosen as the Keeper of the Blame. An honour perhaps. The child was not sure at first, but two hours later, after listening to a seemingly interminable screaming lecture, it did not feel like an honour at all.
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