How do empaths destroy narcissists?

My silence is my love for you—it forces you to finally face yourself,

I walked through your hell and came out the other side. You wanted me to crumble, to disappear, to drown in the same emptiness that consumes you. And yet, here I am. Standing. Thriving. While those like you from my past watch in disbelief. If you still think you have the power to destroy me, you are delusional.

Never again will I let someone like you hold me down.

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Stay in hell if you want. But I refuse to burn with you.

You run headfirst into the very things you fear, reinforcing your own destruction, deepening the disorder that chains you. No matter how hard you fight, you are fighting yourself. Wasting energy on sabotage instead of growth. This is why you will always be empty.

—the truth you’ve spent your life running from.

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So I walk away. I leave you behind. I will always leave you behind. I am done pretending you can be saved. For the first time, I love myself so fiercely that I need no one else—only this promise I make to myself:

You choose pain, cruelty, destruction. That is your path. But I refuse to walk it with you.

A Letter To the Narcissist,

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Wherever you go, pain follows. Not because the world is cruel to you, but because you are cruel to it. We—the ones you tried to break—we heal. We grow. We evolve, becoming more determined, stronger, untouchable. We outlearn you, outmaneuver you, outlive the damage you caused. While you sit in the ruins of your own making, still trying to pull others down, we rise.

And still—despite it all—a part of me once wished I could have helped you. That I could have admired you without it turning into a power game. That I could have supported you without being punished for it. That you could have seen my strength not as a threat, but as a force we could have wielded together.

But that will never happen. Because you are beyond repair. I was hurt too—maybe just as deeply—but I wasn’t hollowed out by it. I wasn’t robbed of my ability to love, to hope, to create. That is the difference between you and me. That is why you lose.

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You sabotage yourself out of fear—fear that the pain you inflict will find its way back to you. You fear being nothing, yet every move you make drags you closer to exactly that. You are nothing to me now. Nothing to anyone who once truly cared.

If I had one wish, I’d use it on you. Not for revenge, not to hurt you—no, I’d wish away your disorder, strip you of the very thing that warps your mind and poisons everything you touch. Because despite the wreckage you leave behind, I know something you refuse to admit: You had a choice. You could have been better, wiser, stronger. But instead, you chose the easy path—deception, manipulation, destruction. And now, everything you do backfires.