The Benefits of Narcissism
written by theleague-ofshadows
An unhealthy self-love.
If only she would have been a narcissist. Egoism, vanity and conceit. If only she could have acquired such traits.
She would have been selfish. Self-absorption and she would have died alone. No body to love her. She wished she could have lived with "own love" instead of yearning for anyone else's.
She prayed she would have been secure enough to not need anyone.
She wanted to be proud.
She would have relished her ego and praised it, sending it into a state where she would be infatuated with herself alone. How many lives could she have saved if she only cared about her life?
The conception of vanity would have kept her in fascination with her wants and needs.
She would have undeniably been better off a narcissist.
Not caring about anyone would have saved her heart. No bruises would be left behind. She could have watched him die. Maybe then she would resist the pain.
But she was selfish. The things she wanted had their prices. If only she could have been insightful.
Fantasizing about power; she could have spent her time infatuated with it. She would have taken advantage of others. She would have watched them suffer.
She would have disregarded other people's emotions. She would spit on their feelings.
She would have been unemotional. Leaving only enough room to care for herself. She would have only been the one that mattered, she would have held onto herself for support.
She would have expected constant praise, endless admiration.
Nothing would have stopped her; no person would have stood in her way. Ignorance of such equals would have saved a life. If she hadn't had been so selfish.
If she would have seen the people for whom they really were, who they should have been. She could have silenced the caring. She could have ended the fleeting emotions.
If only she had been arrogant. Certainly she could have loved herself enough to let go of dependency.
She wished she would have been conceited.
The unrealistic goals she should have set for herself. She wished she didn't take on such a conceivable plan. She wished it would have been too far out of her reach that she would have considered it a lost cause and it never would have cost her a life.
She battled with the lone implication she could have allowed.
How many dark knights died for her? The lone chivalrous man of steel. She did not figure it before hand, the idea already beyond its inception. But if she could go back, oh, she would have bitten her tongue.
Her courageous fighter. The selfless lover. Only he could love the narcissist. She wanted nothing more than to have ignored his affections. The pain of losing a battle and the war was the downfall of her sanity. She just couldn't win.
And even then, beyond the physical, she should have seen it coming.
She should have planned it better. Allowing people in, letting them transfix you, created chaos of the soul. She should have hated him.
The easiest endings came with hate. She never let go of that knowledge. When there was no body left to hold onto, it was easiest to let go.
She wished for his salvation. The narcissist would never approve, but she yearned for his safety. How many black holes would suck her down to the point she couldn't hold on. The gravity of the knowledge was too strong. She would never end her repetitive self-loathing.
And he could have participated in the act. He could have banished her from every inch of his heart, yet he brought her in willing or no and let her sit by the fire, keeping her intuition warm and content.
His heartbeat was the only home she ever knew. That was when she knew she could have never loved only herself.
Yet, she should have, she really was better off that way.
Her options ran thin even in the last seconds of her life; she didn't ever get the chance to close off her heart. Too many drum beats inside of her head. It grew louder and louder until the sound was too depressingly rhythmic.
She wished she could have let him go. She wanted nothing more than to have rid herself of her selfishness for only a matter of seconds just so he could flee but she clung to him like a prayer for a damned princess.
But he was selfish as well, feeding her ego. She should have known better than to have listened to his angelic words of promise. She couldn't accept it all. What did he encourage her for anyway?
Her self-control should have been stronger. No one should have affected her at all. She would only perceive herself and the rest would be invisible. That way, in her abdomen, she could rid herself of the guilt.
Whispers of affection would be granted and accepted with glee. She shouldn't have cared so.
Deserving of such qualities or not, she envied the fact that she didn't possess them in the time of need.
A hiccup of self-doubt and she would be spiraling back to the deep depths of her insecurities. She wished she didn't need them as much. No one should have whispered that everything would be 'okay', they should have stayed back. She didn't want them in her life.
He should have seen her for the monster that she was. She wanted him to notice how awful she was. How absolutely narcisstic she yearned to be.
If only he had hated her.
She wanted to be more demanding, maybe if she reached too high, she would be denied help. Yet he was always there to lift her higher until she reached the object she wanted. It wasn't fair, the effect he held over her. Why couldn't she be foul to him?
She wanted to lack empathy. Wanted to feel absolutely nothing.
She wished it could have been the power that she wanted the most.
He could have left her then, right? If he knew that she cared more about power than his tender affections? Couldn't he deny her then?
If she acted of a higher status and scowled on the excess of humanity, couldn't things become too much for him and wouldn't he see her as an arrogant lowlife?
And what of him? If he would have been just as lousy as she wanted to be, would she leave? If he denied her affection and looked down upon her like a human does to an ant, could she really build up the will power to hate him?
He would not linger and would shamelessly think himself above her.
And he was, he really was.
She found an odd sense of distraught in the thought. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. She didn't need to be burned alive with her emotions. She feared her insecurities.
And if he did? She deserved the insecurities. She didn't particularly enjoy them, but she would live with him finding ever reason to pin point his superiority over her if it came to losing him.
But he was obnoxiously selfless. The annoying fact that he just wouldn't give up on her was too overwhelming that it brought venom to her stomach.
Wants were the right amount of selfish, because if she thought about what she had, she was sure she would crumble under the pressure.
What she needed was even worse. She needed to either be brave or be alone. She was leaning towards the more lonesome option because to be brave usually allowed other people's lives being involved and she didn't want anyone. She couldn't need anyone.
She often found herself silently wailing for a revelation. She wanted to know what to do. What she wanted. What was right. She humbled to the thought of creating a sanctuary for herself and locking herself inside, ignoring the key.
But she needed him. As awful as she wanted to admit, even after life, she yearned for his touch. An absolution would have been accepted with pleading forgiveness. She would get down on both knees and beg if she had to.
She would have repented for her sins just for a chance to be close to him. He was already so pure. She wanted to be like him. She wanted to show him she cared.
Things were getting cold now. Life went on like a charging train and she couldn't feel any of it. The look from above or below or wherever the hell she was, happened to be a glimpse she didn't want to see. She had nothing left for her there.
Maybe that was good. Maybe she had been more self-absorbed then she thought.
In the end she wanted to be a plague, fast and unforgiving. If only she didn't care.
Her heart wouldn't be breaking and he certainly would be alive. She would have been alone.
A heart made of stone. Needing nobody except herself to survive.
He would have been safe, if only she kept her feelings at bay. If she had none at all.
The smudges of perplexity on her heart were intense enough to damage her soul forever. She wished he wouldn't have followed her. She wished she could have stayed away. She wished for too many lost causes and nothing was left for her to grasp except bruises. In the end, the sorrow was too vital to ignore. She wondered how many painful hours spent on contemplation and speculation she could have spared if she just didn't care.
In the end, the benefit of being a self-centered, haughty, arrogant, selfless narcissist would have saved her the pain.