Once upon a Greek mythology ago, Narcissus was frolicking about, a ridiculous sense of entitlement lifting his gait.
“I spy a hunter,” he said, spotting a ripped bro.
“Hi, I’m Narcissus, of Boeotia. I like the springtime in the Rockies, killing animals and twisting my nipples. I like to rub my pole in a mud bath. Sometimes I asphyxiate myself with a tree vine to really pop a sweet one. I almost hung myself on accident. I don’t like goat meat much, but I’ll tear up the ass of a wild hog any day. My ancestors worshipped me as a child. I’m, like, one of the top gods ever Googled. Do I look good? I probably look really good.”
“I’m Actaeon,” said Actaeon.
“NOBODY FUCKING CARES,” said Narcissus.
Annoyed, Narcissus continued to frolic with his haughty air. A beautiful sprite landed on his shoulder to whisper a sweet nothing into his ear, and he backhanded it in frustration, soaring the creature into a pancake death against Sisyphus’ stone.
All this rage, coupled with never shutting the fuck up, had Narcissus dehydrated. He bent over a pool of water to quench his thirst.
“Heavens to fucking Betsy, who is that statuesque fella?” he asked. He bent down to French kiss the image. It disappeared into thousands of ripples.
“WTF, LOL, OMFG, ETC.!” Narcissus screamed. The water calmed, and the creature reappeared.
“I want to put my mouth on that beautiful beast!” Narcissus exclaimed. He tried again. He failed.
For years, he attempted to xoxoxo his own reflection. He never left and died there because he’s an idiot. The resident water sprites all flopped belly-up dead as Narcissus’ potent flesh, albeit dead, sucked the life out of the poor creatures.
Narcissus bred narcissism. My recounting of the man’s life, clearly verbatim from the mouths of ancient Greek scribes, came to me after seeing Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un in the same room.
And since we’re talking about narcissists (they’ll love it), let’s talk about narcissists (they’ll love it).
Narcissists’ overbearing need to validate their self-importance surprisingly usually originates from low self-esteem. Empathy they lack. They thrive on entitlement. They crave admiration. They compulsively lie to exploit anyone in the way of their end game. They fly into a rage when things don’t go their way. They loathe criticism, and they’re master manipulators.
They don’t love themselves, so they project disdain on others. They can’t appreciate love. They’re dead inside, but never shut up about themselves. They exaggerate success and skills. They expect unreasonable care. They’re envious of peers’ success and have a hard time giving praise. They are cruel and vindictive.
If you give them a spoon, they’ll gut the life out of you.
Do you know a narcissist? Well, on a positive note, SHUT THE FUCK UP, A NARCISSIST IS TALKING SOMEWHERE. (Godspeed, Melania.)