9 thoughts on ““Narcissism”–Poetry by Sam Vaknin”

1. Reblogged this on galesmind and commented:
   What a sad soul wrote this. Perhaps he is crying out from his narcissist mask.

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   • That’s exactly what I think he’s doing and it is incredibly sad. 😦
     Not that he’s being honest about his NPD but that he suffers so much and can never escape from it.

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     • I’ve said this before but I have to keep a certain distance from his writings, as much as I get from them. After a while you feel like you’re being drawn into his darkness so if it gets too much, I have to take a break from it and do something fun or post something silly or fun. As an empathic Aspie I get drawn into other’s emotions too easily and this is one mind I definitely need to keep my distance from, as honest and beautiful as his writings may be.

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     • Doesn’t add up there was a great deal of feeling in it or is he manipulating what he thinks are feelings?

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       • No I think it’s genuine. For him, writing is like this little hole in the barricade he built for himself in which his real self can peek out and express itself. But the barricade is so well built all he can do is scream out of that hole and no one, not even himself can break down the walls. God. It breaks my heart. At least he has that, but it makes it worse in a way because he’s not protected from the pain like most narcissists are.

         I feel like there is such a vast ocean of pain in him that even the earth itself couldn’t contain it.

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         • It really is a conundrum isn’t it?

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           • Yes it sure is.

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2. I won’t do a separate post for this (I think people might think I’m writing about Sam way too much and I probably am) but here’s two short stories he wrote he posted the other day on FB (and I think they’re a true story because he did have a wife named Nomi, who left him) about a pet snail they had. The other one is about a goldfish named Ned. For both these essays, I don’t know how something can be adorable and so unbelievably sad at the same time but you can feel his pain.

   Pet Snail and the Short Life of Ned. (2 stories)
   http://www.wattpad.com/86114109-pet-snail-and-the-short-life-of-ned-pet-snail
   http://www.wattpad.com/86118218-pet-snail-and-the-short-life-of-ned-ned%27s-short
   The “Ned” story is interesting because in it, Sam seems to feel empathy for the fish. Maybe he just can’t feel empathy for humans.

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3. This sheds some light on why he can do this and still be a narcissist:
   Emotional Resonance Tables

   http://samvak.tripod.master.com/texis/master/search/?q=resonance+tables
   They say, with a knowing smile: “If he is really a narcissist – how come he writes such beautiful poetry?”.
   “Words are the sounds of emotions” – they add – “and he claims to have none”. They are smug and comfortable in their well classified world, my doubters.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/narcissistpoetry.html
   The narcissist’s positive emotions come bundled with very negative ones. This is the outcome of frustration and the consequent transformations of aggression. This frustration is connected to the Primary Objects of the narcissist’s childhood (parents and caregivers).
   Instead of being provided with the unconditional love that he craved, the narcissist was subjected to totally unpredictable and inexplicable bouts of temper, rage, searing sentimentality, envy, prodding, infusion of guilt and other unhealthy parental emotions and behaviour patterns.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/faq33.html
   This is why the narcissist avoids intimacy, real friendships, love, other emotions, commitment, attachment, dedication, perseverance, planning, emotional or other investment, morale or conscience (which are only meaningful if one believes in a future), developing a sense of security, or pleasure.
   The narcissist emotionally invests only in things he feels that he is in full, unmitigated control of: himself and, sometimes, not even that.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/narcissismemotional.html
   We often marvel at the discrepancy between the private and public lives of our idols: celebrities, statesmen, stars, writers, and other accomplished figures. It is as though they have two personalities, two selves: the “true” one which they reserve for their nearest and dearest and the “fake” or “false” or “concocted” one which they flaunt in public.
   In contrast, the narcissist has no private life, no true self, no domain reserved exclusively for his nearest and dearest. His life is a spectacle, with free access to all, constantly on display, garnering narcissistic supply from his audience. In the theatre that is the narcissist’s life, the actor is irrelevant. Only the show goes on.
   Once formed and functioning, the False Self stifles the growth of the True Self and paralyses it. Henceforth, the True Self is virtually non-existent and plays no role (active or passive) in the conscious life of the narcissist. It is difficult to “resuscitate” it, even with psychotherapy.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/faq48.html
   I feel sad only when I listen to music. My sadness is tinged with the decomposing sweetness of my childhood. So, sometimes, I sing or think about music and it makes me unbearably sad. I know that somewhere inside me there are whole valleys of melancholy, oceans of pain but they remain untapped because I want to live. I cannot listen to music – any music – for more than a few minutes. It is too dangerous, I cannot breathe.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/narcissistmusic.html
   I dream of my childhood. And in my dreams we are again one big unhappy family. I sob in my dreams, I never do when I am awake. When I am awake, I am dry, I am hollow, mechanically bent upon the maximization of Narcissistic Supply. When asleep, I am sad. The all-pervasive, engulfing melancholy of somnolence. I wake up sinking, converging on a black hole of screams and pain. I withdraw in horror. I don’t want to go there. I cannot go there.
   People often mistake depression for emotion. They say: “But you are sad” and they mean: “But you are human”, “But you have emotions”. And this is wrong.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/faq41.html
   I am cursed with mental X-ray vision. I see through people’s emotional shields, their petty lies, their pitiable defences, their grandiose fantasies. I know when they deviate from the truth and by how much. I intuitively grasp their self-interested goals and accurately predict the strategy and tactics they will adopt in order to achieve them.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/journal24.html
   Holiday blues are a common occurrence even among the mentally sound. In me they provoke a particularly virulent strain of pathological envy. I am jealous at others for having a family, or for being able to celebrate lavishly, or for being in the right, festive mood. My cognitive dissonances crumble. I keep telling myself: “Look at those inferior imitations of humans, slaves of their animated corpses, wasting their time, pretending to be happy”. Yet, deep inside, I know that I am the defective one. I realize that my inability to rejoice is a protracted and unusual punishment meted out to me by my very self. I am sad and enraged. I want to spoil it for those who can. I want them to share my misery, to reduce them to my level of emotional abstinence and absence.
   Continue to read this article here (click on this link):

   http://samvak.tripod.com/journal40.html

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