narcissistic - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Narcism comes of having a fragile ego, they build the walls of indifference and seek status to hide the vulnerable self, striking out, being aggressive. The truth is, if you are secure about who you are and truly love that person, your ego is so strong that you seek cooperation over power, and your self care and love is healthy. The greatest warrior, indeed perhaps the only one, we ever face is the self in that battle between doing the most loving thing and being the selfish primitive self. The narcissist losses that battle every day, always choosing to use their primitive "me first" instincts over the more highly evolved self controlled, empathic and giving self. So, what I'm saying Troy, is that narcism may appear to be a fabulous gift, but it will destroy the "you" you were born to be... poisoning your soul.
My mother never had money for school shoes or calculators, but she never missed a Sunday morning at the hair salon. Her hair was coiffured to perfection and her nails were buffed and painted to match her new outfit. She had an entire wall dedicated to designer shoes, each boxed and labeled. She had one chest of drawers packed to the brim with make-up and in our house there was a mirror in every room.
She wrote with the fluidity of an ape with a migraine, yet to her eye and ear all of her words were honeyed. She admired each turn of phrase as if it were the very pinnacle of creativity and she longed to share it with the world.
He was narcissistic from his Gucci loafers to his Vidal Sassoon hair cut. He demanded complete devotion from his friends and, although he acted bored when they complemented him, he really demanded it and would sulk if it weren't supplied in a constant drip-feed. He looked down on the unfashionable as if they were sub-human.
To describe my sister as narcissistic would be like commenting that a ball is round. She exuded it. It was in the way she walked, in the way that she talked and in the clothes that she wore. She only kept sycophantic friends who complimented her and lapped up all the drivel she spouted as if it were the epitome of genius.
As interesting as this room is, as aesthetically pleasant the four walls of this place may be, as commudious as this edifice is, it has fatigued me to the point of tears. You would have thought a person such as myself, the very King of France, would have the capacity to hold ‘refuge’ in a singular place for a mere few days. Unfortunately, this is not the case. I feel that I have drifted into a deep and depressing hole, one that I cannot climb out of, despite the charming interior of it; the walls plentifully bestrewn with the most intricate paintings, shining golden lighting and exquisite wallpaper coloured with the deepest red underneath. The flooring of the ditch, a rug. No, a magnificent carpet stretching across the entirety of the floor, detailed with miniscule images of pulchritudinous flowers in various colours and tiny scenes filled with perfect children, perfect men, perfect women about their daily business. I might dare to wish that my own people were like the flawless community portrayed in the carpet below my feet. The furniture, made and varnished to the best quality, is scattered tactfully around; the only two items of furniture in a form of arrangement being the two chairs my partner and I sit on presently. I do not like to brag about such matters, but the study, in short, is a truly impressive room.
Yet, in spite of this, I am still unbelievably provoked by the nagging of ennui, in addition to the constant anxiety that any sort of incomprehensibilities could be occurring outside the palace at any moment. Something abhorrent or something meritorious. It depends on the people’s intents, despite the fact that I hold power over them all and I could have them all guillotined whenever it pleases me. At least, this is what I thought, before they attacked the Bastille, something unforeseen. At this moment, it is the same as on the fourteenth of July. I do not know how they will react or what they will do without