It’s not even about him believing it—it’s aboutwinning.He’s turned my observation into an attack, weaponizing it and shifting the blame back onto me. And the worst part? For a fleeting second, I wonder if he’s right. I have some narcissistic tendencies—we all do. And he’s owning that he does, too. That seems adult and like he’s taking ownership.
Maybe there’s something to what he’s saying.
Maybe I’m the one with the issue and I’m projecting onto him.
But cognitive dissonance—a term I’ve also recently learned—feels like it’s shredding my sanity.
Timmy is goodandbad.
Lovingandhateful.
Open-mindedandrigid.
He loves me, but he hates me.
How can I reconcile these contradictions?
How can anyone?
The mental gymnastics are exhausting.
He doesn’t get up and work.
He doesn’t make an effort to provide.
He accuses me of things I’ve never done, dredges up past mistakes I’ve apologized for countless times, and refuses to acknowledge his own faults.
My heart feels heavy, my mind clouded, and I realize that I’m approaching a breaking point.
I can’t keep going like this.
The more I read, the more I understand the core of it all—for a narcissist, your only value is how you feed their egoright nowinthismoment.Past love, sacrifices, or good deeds? Those are irrelevant.
Everything is transactional, momentary.
And the saddest part? Narcissists are stuck with themselves. Forever. While their victims eventually heal, they are bound to an endless cycle of self-loathing and emptiness, desperately trying to fill a void that will never close.
Even if they appear to move on, they’re doomed to repeat the same patterns with the next person. Their mask will slip again, and their true selves will resurface.
It’s a prison of their own making.
It’s tragic, really.
But that doesn’t mean I have to stay locked in that prison with him.
CHAPTER 122
A WAR OVER PEACE
MARGAUX
I’m energized after my monthly manifestation call for authors. It’s the only thing lately that makes me feel grounded, like I’m connected to something bigger than the chaos surrounding me. The call focuses on releasing negative energy and being open to receiving positivity. Inspired, I create a little note for myself and place it on my nightstand:
I will do everything in my power to protect my peace.
When Timmy gets back—who knows where he’s been, because I’ve stopped asking—he immediately notices the sign. His face contorts into a sneer, and he lets out a derisive huff.
While I’m in the restroom, he apparently gets busy crafting his rebuttal to a message that wasn’t even for him. When I return, I notice a hastily written countersign perched on his bedside table: