pruning iii: cutting daffodils
narcissism and borderline personality disorder
Over two years ago now, I got pregnant and miscarried soon after.
For the father, I’ll always feel some sort of connection with him deeper than surface level; for a moment…we were a family.
I’ve been thinking about him lately…reminiscing about the day we met.
I wanted him to notice me…and he did, as I passed him still in the cafe line, as I sought a comfortable place to sit.
We spoke for some time over a cup of coffee…I think it was espresso…and a glass of champagne.
At one point we began talking about Instagram, and how I didn’t like it too much, to which he was quick to become defensive about.
I felt uneasy.
Later in the evening, after a few hours of wander and a rather interesting meal, we exchanged numbers, and he, still knowing I didn’t have an Instagram account, gave me his username, in his words, “Just in case.”
Narcissism, though shiny, captivating, and supposedly flawless, oftentimes seeps through the mask’s seams if you lean in close enough.
In hindsight, I wish I realized in that moment that he wasn’t the one for me and carried on.
Since then, however, I’ve started to grow a deep interest only in men who don’t engage with social media as such.
As a recovering borderline, I now see why our star-crossed path was for the best…
He would’ve killed me…not directly in the sense of taking my physical existence, but in the sense of crushing my spirit, even more so than he already has, simply…so he could have moment’s breath.
I don’t mean to say this to be cruel, out of spite, or even from a biased stance…rather, it’s simply a light shed on truth through understanding.
And I can’t express, now, how grateful I am to have been liberated from his insidious, cunning nature and for the growth I’ve obtained from it as well.
