Think about the most annoying, frustrating, and/or chaotic person you know. Maybe it’s your deadbeat friend, maybe it’s your messy coworker, maybe it’s your annoying brother who always asks you for money. Write a prose piece about them or from their point of view.

The Narcissist

I'm all about me. It doesn't matter if I'm right or wrong, I come first. I don't take no for an answer, and I pressure other people to bend to my will. It makes me feel strong and powerful. I don't like to be challenged or rejected. It reminds me of any human weakness I may have, for I am perfect, you see. In my glass mirror, I see no flaws of my own, only others, for in my mind, I am untouchable. I have no compassion when it comes to things I want. Everyone does wrong, except me. I do no wrong and will never admit to any wrong. If I get caught in a lie or an uncomfortable situation, I just play the victim and say I don't remember and project it back on the other person. I know that they're stupid enough to take the bait. I am not satisfied with anything. I have to, no, I need to break people down to make myself feel in charge, for it's the control I crave. Damn the misery I bring on other people, for that's not really my concern, now is it? I am smarter and better at this game I play. They need to recognize that, and we won't have any problems. See, I have this incessant need to be praised, looked at, needed. I need someone to worship me, especially in a relationship. If they don't, I just pretend to want them and let them believe that they are all I need, and then I start to try and break them down by looking at everything that passes, like the person I'm with isn't good enough. That should show them that I am the ONE. I need to show them and tell them on a regular basis that I don't need them, that I can get anyone I want. They don't matter. They are just a means to an end. Then I met her. The one I had. The one that would give her last, and her heart just to keep me happy. For years, she latched on to my every word, my every whim, my every mood. When we fought, she was physically sick. I didn't care. I stayed away as long as I liked. I didn't care how she felt. I neglected her, I belittled her. I went home and laid in my bed and sighed, because I knew that no matter how I treated her, she would stay. And she did. No matter how mad I got, no matter what name I called her or how mean or low-key nasty I was to her, she stayed. She was afraid of losing me, I could taste it. I could taste her desperation to keep the relationship together. And it gave me goosebumps to know that I had that kind of power, that kind of control. I played this cat-and-mouse game for years, until one day.....she'd had enough. She no longer hung on to my every word. She stopped believing everything I said. She no longer hugged me when I walked in the door. She no longer smiled when she saw me. I saw a lion in her eyes where a cub had been. The one thing I never expected was...realization. She realized everything. She realized that I didn't care, that this was a thrilling, exciting game I was a master at playing. And then she stopped doing the one thing I depended on. She stopped caring. She stopped caring about the relationship. She started focusing on her. The pain, the game, the lies, the dismissal, they all took a toll on her, very, very slowly. Her sweet, soft heart hardened. I watched her turn to stone. I watched the one person who truly loved and cared for me turn into someone I didn't even know. I watched her roll her eyes upon sight of me. I watched as she slowly started hating my arrival and the sound of my voice. She saw me as a parasite, and I was the cause. It killed me inside. I would never admit it, but I cared. I realized that I cared about what she thought of me. I didn't want to let her go, but she was rapidly retreating. I started complementing her, playing that game to see how well it worked. It didn't. She told me she felt smothered, unloved, unworthy, and worthless. She told me that she was done, because she was worth more than that. I watched as men looked at her incessantly. She never looked back. She didn't need that attention. She walked away mentally and emotionally. Only a hollow physical shell of her remained. How I wish that the girl I met all those years ago would come back, but she never will. Now I am the one afraid of losing her, but she no longer cares. She's cordial, but cold. Affection, touching, kissing, rubbing have all left the building. Her heart is in pieces, and she's trying to heal. My suffering is in watching her pull away from my station and take a slow ride back to who she was...without me.