Malignant Self Love | Page 3

do, because
they do not sound or feel like lies, because to do otherwise would make
you question your own sanity, which you have a tendency to do

anyway, because from the very beginning of our relationship you
placed your trust and hopes in me, derived your energy from me, gave
me power over you.
Run to our friends. Go. See what that will get you. Ridicule. I am to
them what I originally was to you. They believe what they see and
that's what they see, and they also see the very mixed up person that
you obviously have become. The more you plead for understanding, the
more convinced they will be that you are crazy, the more isolated you
will feel, and the harder you will try to make things right again, by
accepting my criticisms and by striving to improve yourself. Could it
be that you were wrong about me in the beginning? So wrong as that?
Not an easy pill to swallow, is it? How do you think our friends will
react if you try to cram it down their throats? After all, it really is you
who have thwarted my progress, tainted my reputation, thrown me off
course. There is an escape from the frustrations you cause me and,
fortunately, my reputation provides enough insulation from the outside
world so I can indulge in this escape with impunity. What escape?
Those eruptions of anger you dread and fear, my rages. Ah, it feels so
good to rage. It is the expression of and the confirmation of my power
over you. Lying feels good too, for the same reason, but nothing
compares to the pleasure of exploding for no material reason and
venting my anger like a lunatic, all the time a spectator at my own
show and seeing your helplessness, pain, fear, frustration, and
dependence. Go ahead. Tell our friends about it. See if they can
imagine it, let alone believe it. The more outrageous your account of
what happened, the more convinced they will be that the crazy one is
you. And don't expect much more from your therapist either. Surely it
is easier to live my lie and see where that takes you. You might even
acquire some of the behaviour you find so objectionable in me.
But you know what? This may come as a surprise, but I can also be my
own worst nightmare. I can and I am. You see, at heart my life is
nothing more than illusion-clad confusion. I have no idea why I do
what I do, nor do I care to find out. In fact, the mere notion of asking
the question is so repulsive to me that I employ all of my resources to
repel it.
I reconstruct facts, fabricate illusions, act them out, and thus create my
own reality. It is a precarious state of existence indeed, so I am careful

to include enough demonstrable truth in my illusions to ensure their
credibility. And I am forever testing that credibility against the
reactions of others. Fortunately my real attributes and accomplishments
are in sufficient abundance to fuel my illusions seemingly forever. And
modern society, blessed/cursed modern society, values most what I do
best and thus serves as my accomplice. Even I get lost in my own
illusions, swept away by their magic.
So, not to worry if you still do not recognise me. I don't recognise me
either. In fact, I regard myself as like everyone else, only perhaps a
little better. Put another way, I end up thinking that everyone else is
like me, only not quite as good. After all, that's what the universe is
telling me.
Ah, there's the rub. THE universe or MY universe? As long as the
magic of my illusions works on me too, the distinction is immaterial.
Hence my need for a fan club. And I am constantly taking fan club
inventory, testing the loyalty of present members with challenges of
abuse, writing off defectors with total indifference, and scouting the
landscape for new recruits. Do you see my dilemma? I use people who
are dependent on me to keep my illusions alive. In actuality it is I who
am dependent on them. Even the rage, that orgasmic release of pain and
anger, doesn't work without an audience. On some level I am aware of
my illusions, but to admit that would spoil the magic. And that I
couldn't bear. So I proclaim that what I do is of no consequence and no
different from what others do, and thus I create an illusion about my
creating illusions. So, no, I don't recognise me any better than you do. I
wouldn't dare. I need the magic. For the same reason I also fail to
recognise others who behave as