The Narcissists Origin Story,
Vampires are one of the coolest mythological creatures to ever exist in any storybook.
As one knows, when bitten by a vampire, there are three things that could happen,
The second you become weak,
or the third you become a vampire yourself.
And who wouldn’t want to be a vampire? They're powerful, strong, immortal, persuasive, sexy, and I have often wondered what it would be like to be one… that is if i was lucky enough to get #3. But to have invincible confidence, and to have absolutely no limits?... Worth the risk, Sign me up!
If you know a little bit about the history of Dracula, you’ll know that Dracula was written and inspired by the governor of Romania (1431), Vlad the Impaler. Who killed a google search estimate of 80,000 people by torturing, and impaling the victims limbs. But why is he a vampire? Well, because he took away their lives. He drained them of their blood and their souls. He was a taker, with no giver in him.
He had to play God, to prove that he was one...
But when Jesus played god, all he had to do was turn water into wine…
…Listen, I am NOT a super heavy,” all sinners go to hell,” Christian, I'm just comparing the two.
And I do believe that some ‘evil’ deserves some sort of moral light shown on it, however, I can't imagine how much energy one has to use in order to kill 80,000 people. You have to be psychotic, I mean you have to be deranged! I can't even get out of bed in the morning on some days, how do you do that?
Anyway, I don't wanna know.
So if Vampires are inspired by real human events, and with Vladimir as the extreme, then Vampires can't be too mythical, right? I mean if all a vampire really is, is someone who makes you weak, then there are alot of vampires that exist in your very own reality. They either kill you while you still breathe, drain you of all the energy you have left, Or you become one of them… A subconscious, conducted machine.
A cycle of sucking you dry, while you respond with, “Sorry! I don't have any more!”
My ex was a Vampire, and like many, he was also a narcissist. A heavy one… as in..an infatuated, ill one. I loved him, he loved what he could get.
When I wouldn't react to him yelling at me, he’d call me robotic.
When he asked to sleep with other people,
When he took pictures of womens bodies in public,
When there were albums, and screenshots of naked women on his phone,
When he'd throw my things, throw tantrums, run out of the house, and slam doors. When my dad had to call me, and ask why he was yelling almost every night because he could he hear his yelling from the kitchen,
When my mother had to pull my arm away from the doorknob because i was running back to him after yet another fight,
When he fell in love with her,
I was there, with a cup of tea and a “How does it taste?”
When we broke up, I was very confused. I went crazy. Checked his location, his messages, everything. I became delusional, although I was right in the end. Most embarrassing thing was that everyone else knew but me that I was beaten, and sucked straight from my own veins. My mom saw it, my father saw it, my friends, everyone knew. Like I had a sheet over my head, and seeing only darkness was normal. I still just didn't want to hear it. I don't like when people remind me, or tell me how to handle my business, so I tend to do the opposite. Again, I loved him…and love is unconditional, but he was the wrong one to show it to and I denied that. If I had loved myself, I would have never known him. I spent two months in the dark, and one at my grandmas. I wrote a book on how much I hated men, and the rest was an honest blur. Then my big brother passed away, and that honestly shattered reality for me. However, I immediately got over the attraction and emotional connection I had with my ex after my brother had ODed. Like “Wow, that was nothing!”
That week my brother had passed, my mom was also moving out of her house on a whim. My siblings and I all had to move everything out in five days to Texas. There was no time to sit around, and look through pictures or trophies, everything had to be done fast! We had to get out of the house ASAP. We got the call of his passing on the 4th day.
Everyone in the family was exhausted, and by the end it, just really fucking heartbroken. We all wanted to be was alone, but together. There were days of the week where we had to go to the funeral home and get things set up for the memorial, and to say bye one last time. Reminder after reminder that he was gone, It was too much for us. At some points I didn't feel the way I should have felt when my brother had passed. My body, my mind, everything was jumbled. At the same time though, It was bitter sweet. I felt confident, I felt good, I felt pretty, capable, and at ease… I was also smoking weed like a mf, and felt unstoppable. I felt coldhearted on some days, which fed into my guilt. I mean, I had just gotten out of one thing, and then into this. I shut down, and I didn't want to deal with it.
So I didnt, I smoked, spent my money on spray tans, got high with my friends every night. Watched TONS of Eris clips from the Legend of SinBad, (I just found it comforting idk.)
A month after his passing, I had just turned 20. My friends encouraged me to start working for the summer, so I applied to work at Victoria Secret. I got the job and when I did, I was then also encouraged to apply to this theatre conservatory in New York City. Happily, I got into the school as well. Still, everything was moving way too fast. The weed helped to slow things down for a month or two, …until one morning when I woke up in my teacup of a dorm from the sound of a car alarm going off in midtown. That alarm, however, became the “ping” of many new doors opening for me.
Applying to this school was one of the best decisions I had ever made. My classes consist of Acting, Movement, Alexander Technique, Voice/Speech and much, much more. Each one is a little like a mini therapy session. While acting you must have empathy, and in order to have empathy, you must be in touch with your own emotions. A class that helps you do that is my very own personal favorite, which is Movement. Movement helps the actor develop their instrument, and to also help unlock the past trauma hidden deep within the body. By moving your chakras, or circles of energy in a spiral motion, you can release, and learn to control your deep seated emotions. Now, before I go on to act, I HAVE to move my body. It has helped me tremendously with my anxiety. When depressed I always move my body as well, and dance stupid with my headphones on.
Having this class after everything that had happened, cleansed the shit out of me. Everyone in the class had their own circumstance that they were struggling with. I would cry my eyes out in the chair, look over my shoulder, and see the girl behind me with puffy, red eyes, smile, and give me a thumbs up. Like… “Ya girl, same.”
I learned to not be afraid of my emotions, and to seek comfort in my sensitivity. I embraced this, and learned much about myself through connecting with my body…yet, this does not mean that I knew how to control my emotions entirely when they arose. I had never reacted before taking this class. I had never gotten mad, I had let people/family insult and disrespect me to my face, but didn't know how to be angry. I didn't mind a thing, because I didn't want to mind a thing. Before movement, I lived life completely dissociated, and for an incredibly valid reason, and for an incredibly long time. I should have been way more angry, rebellious, and brave, but I didn't know how to take a stand for myself. I didn't know
what it meant to be “angry” for I have always associated that word with violence, or revenge.
Movement is like shaking up a soda bottle, popping a mentos inside, and then letting the cap off. I’d be sitting alone in my room and then BAM! Suddenly, I feel irrationally angry for no reason. When I looked more into it, by journaling or moving, I found that there were reasons as to why I was feeling mad or sad. That I should have been way more aware about how I was being treated in the past. Of course it made me upset to remember the past. To sit in my room alone and to realize, “Holy shit, this wasn't a good person after all, why the fuck did I let this happen?” I started to remember memories that I thought were dreams. I had become sick of letting people put me in their box, I became sick of people putting words in my mouth when I was afraid to use my voice. I was afraid to go outside, I couldn't hold a conversation, and had more frequent panic attacks.
All of the feelings, all the emotions that I avoided during my brother's death, my breakup, and during that relationship. Events in high school and childhood, all of it built up. I kept hating myself, like why wasn't I more mad?? Why didn't I stop it sooner? Most people have this rebellious, revenge phase at 16 by dying their hair purple or sneaking a tattoo, or by doing the extreme like breaking into cars, I suddenly had this craving to do all of it. To do everything I was afraid to do. Like shoplifting, drugs, lashing out, and I didnt want to talk or be around anybody. Thank god I went to acting school during this because I had many opportunities to let it all out. If didn' have an outlet where I could express these feelings, I don't know if I would have survived alone.
And when all these emotions had surfaced, I didn't really have anyone to talk to. I had ended up getting into a fight with my friends which was rooted from miscommunication. Some things were said that made me think trauma dumping on them wasn't gonna get me any farther in my healing process. I rarely answered my parents phone calls, I didn't want genuine advice, or to actually help myself. I enjoyed feeling the pain, I enjoyed staying in this feeling because it meant I was in the right direction. It meant I was becoming my own person. Although brilliant to have actually felt anything, I didn't recognize this as depression at the time because I wasn't numb.
I always talked to my boyfriend though. I met him the summer after my brother passed through one of my close childhood friends. I didn't open up to him much at first though, which was always an issue with my past relationships. This one though, was new, and we became exclusive pretty quickly. I wasn't totally sure about the relationship either, I mean… I had just gotten out of a horrid one. I didn't really intend for it to be serious, but I actually ended up really getting along with him. His energy, his heart, he was different, and I felt different with him. Again, not so different enough to let my guard down. I knew better, and with everyone in my life ‘till right now, I only showed him what I wanted him to see.
As time went on, My boyfriend and I grew closer. I let down my guard, and together, we embarked on shrooms. Yes, shrooms. I let all that anger fester in me the night we tripped. My boyfriend described me as a ghost ,and said ( and I quote) “You were completely naked. You looked at me with your mouth open, and stared. I swear your heart wasn't beating, but then you lifted your arms, screamed, and locked yourself in the bathroom.”( End quote)This is hilarious, I know, and I do remember that.
My heart, contrary to my boyfriend's assumptions, was in fact beating. Not one cell in my body was dead, for I could feel… everything. I could feel the sensation of the trees, the radiation from the TV. Both were completely different energies. The radiation made me instantly sick, and the trees made me feel both joy and melancholy. I screamed at my boyfriend because I had never felt more alive. It was a burst, a rush, a WAVE of energy. I was seeing, feeling, and remembering so much all at once.
After the trip, I cried until I felt like the baddest bitch in all the universe. I felt like a goddess by the end of it. I also learned so much about energy after that trip, it was insane, but the reminder that popped up the most was that emotions are just energy in motion. I shed so much old energy that night, that I actually felt like a new person. I felt like my DNA changed. Reborn, like a vampire after it turns. I was ten times more sensitive after that, but also ten times a bit crazier. I started to get madder! Not the, “Maybe I should be mad,” mad, or a “Regret” kind of angry, It was, “Okay I am in the present, no longer mad about the past, I am actually mad, i am angry, and I do not want to ignore this.”
When I let myself get angry, I felt my power more than I ever have had before. I’d get mad like a man. I'd get mad at my boyfriend, “Why didn't you ever ask questions about me when we first got together? no wonder you don't know anything!” I'd get mad at my parents, “Why did you guys do this? Why didn't you do that?” Mad at my friends, my siblings, my ex, and myself. I was the angriest I had ever been. When I’d lash out, I would also feel their power, I felt like I was taking it. I turned inward. My perceptions shifted against everyone else. I was fierce, like I didn't need anyone.
I isolated myself from my peers at school even more so than I already did. I barely answered my boyfriends calls, was doing AMAZING in acting class, but was smoking practically every night, and every morning. I fought with my boyfriend so horribly one night that all I saw was red. My behavior only grew worse with everyone around me, and I started to skip classes. I felt that because I'm an adult, and that was the first time I didn't have someone's hand down my throat, or strings tied to my wrists, that I could do, and act however I pleased, because as a human being, that was my right. I deserved to let myself react however I wanted, because I never let myself have that freedom beforehand.
It wasn't until I made my boyfriend cry was when I felt like my ex. I snapped out of my God complex. “Oh my god, my boyfriend is me, and I am literally behaving just like my ex right now” Why on earth would he stay when my behavior should be scorned? Which is exactly what my ex asked me. “If I treat you so badly, then why are you still with me?” I started to reflect on my behavior from the past. I saw that I got out of a lot of things. I have had a good life. I have been surrounded by love, been shown love by imperfect people, who had only half of what they've given me. I have teachers who have lived LIVES, who invest in my time. My parents have GIVEN their lives to give me time to live my own.
How utterly selfish I had been.
My sensitivity was at a high, but I didn't realize that my humanity had turned off.
My perception began to alter again, and I saw all the sides. Each of my family members has had to learn to embrace life, no matter the hardships. We all deal with shit. No matter what it is, big or small, and if you're lucky, you pick your struggles. This whole time I thought I was living a new liberated life when really I was just grieving. Grieving my brother, my past,and my childhood. Pretending to be okay, and realizing that this had been my behavior for a while. However, one version of myself felt less and one felt everything.One was modest, the other was naked. I saw habits in the way I treated others. When I spoke I heard my ex’s voice, and I heard adults' voices from childhood. I saw the way I was spoken to growing up, and saw that I had accepted that as the norm. I had not only accepted it, but adopted into my own being.
After experiencing my own behavior and after comparing it to my ex’s, I now see how alike we actually were.I grew empathy for him, and I hated myself for it. He was terrible! If he really had loved me, if he saw how awful he treated me from a stranger's eyes, If he had known how hurt I was, if he saw with his own eyes as he was bringing down the whip, maybe he would have stopped before it burned my skin. If he had loved me at all, no matter the emotions that had risen within him, he could have changed. That was a choice he could have made. Would you like to know the excuse he made when I confronted him on this behavior? “What are you talking about? I fight with my mom all the time, and we are still really close. That's how it is in my family. That's how my dad was when they were married.” ` Perhaps not in order, but that was his response. Incredible isn't it? I don’t respect people who are okay with their negative attributes. Actually, I am okay with it. What I don't respect are the people who embrace them as if it is who they really are. As if it is only who they are. Like someone gets really pissed off, and they throw a chair out the window that ends up hitting a kid walking by, You're just going to let that happen? “Oh, it's just how I get!” or “OH! That's just Miranda!”
In order for me to feel better I could either shut down again and turn everything off. I could let them go, and remain alone. Or I could keep the ones I love in my life, take the harder way. Learn From them on how to be better. Follow their lead on life and on love. In order to do that I had to understand that nothing will be perfect. That there will always be an obstacle that is bound to show up. What's important is how you face them, and to be prepared. To walk with the intention of peace, while filled with humility. To learn that no one is perfect, and that the imperfect people who care about you, don't have to. They love as if they are abundant. No matter how much they give, it will always trickle back to them. I already knew before that I didn't know how to be angry, what surprised me the most was that I didn't know how to properly love either.
I could either let myself feed off my own anger for my entire life, bringing it to others out of spite, or I could learn from the people around me who know how to root anger out of pure love. To turn my anger into passion, and to transform it into that incredible, invincible confidence I always envied from those filthy vampires. I learned that instead of violence or vengeance, I could use my anger to manifest the life my parents worked for. To build a life with my boyfriend, to build him up. To support him through his dreams and be there for his accomplishments, To have his kids, and to hopefully teach them all we've learned as well. To live a peaceful, and joyful life.This is what I want.
And fuck anyone who tries to drain me of that energy.
That pain you inflict on me, is not my pain, and never will be. The scars on my skin are from your lashes, held by your hands, supported by your arms, sent forth by your heart. Not once have I touched me the way you have. The baggage you throw at me is yours, and I suggest you pack it up. No matter how many times you try to hurt me I will always heal, but you will always hold the weapon in front of you while your back bleeds. It is hard to gain courage when you're always hiding behind something. It is hard to let someone in when your arms just can't seem to stop swinging. It's hard to stop swinging when there's nothing in your head but “woe is me”.
I am not you, nor will I ever be you. Your existence is an epidemic, and I will no longer spread it to try and get back to you. Instead, I send you love, and may you never hold onto it. May you keep a little for yourself and give the rest to another. If you can't, then I suggest you buy a stake, for this blood bank is closed.
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