The Narcissist’s Daughter

This is her story.

She was observant, with a kind nature and an eccentric personality. Her face was a pale white and her hair a smoky brown. Her blue-grey eyes glistened through shreds of broken glass, broken glass that correlated with her fragmented self esteem. She was not a narcissist but she had traits of narcissm from her father.

Her father was a businessman who had a charming and proactive front but would act aggressively to those who crossed his path. Money meant everything to him. He wanted fame. He wanted luxury. He wanted his daughter to be ‘just like him.’ A clone. She often stepped on eggshells to avoid exposing her father’s weak side – the side where he would project his opinions into the placid mind of his daughter who fought so effortlessly for peace. Peace within her surroundings. Her dissociation began as a toddler. Whatever she experienced in her early years affected her personal development except her memories had not been remembered so she wondered through life, with empathy, holding pain on her shoulders for the world to see. She kept a strong face because she knew. She knew she could read other’s hidden motives. She knew of the stigmatisation of the vulnerable exterior except her father had a vulnerable interior. She knew her father had an illness and understood his but he could never understand hers.

 

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Published by TheCreativeBorderline

Creative, Insightful, Intelligent

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