Reflections of a Narcissist

I imagine a scene of two virtuoso musicians. Both are pianists, and romantically inclined. The young and handsome one approaches the older and says "You know what people are saying right? That I am like you but friendlier, more personable, and less full of myself". The other says "Yes I know." The one says "Why is it that, with all you have been given, you're still an Ass Hole?" The older one replies "Because I can be, and I'd have it no other way".

I understand this. A feeling of superiority is the best worldly high available. Especially in America, where so much is judged by your individual success, your possessions. I realize I am a combination of two things: The kind of person who wants what they can't have, and the kind of person that always wants the next step up from what they got. In obtaining anything, I am immediately dissatisfied, take it for granted, and convince myself I deserve more. I then remain with nothing, yet feel as though I have everything.

You do of course recognize the irony in the title. A Narcissist can do nothing but reflect. He or she is forever engaged in themselves, focused inward. Any critiquing done comes from the inside first, passing through a distorting perspective on the world, and so misconstruing all judgement.

At the end of the day, there is nothing that can truly please a Narcissist. For someone who reaches their expectations will not be good enough for long, and someone who strokes their egos will then be obtained, and so become expendable. But at the end of the day, I must reply the same as the man above. As sad is it may be to know all of this in full, I'd have it no other way.

What brings me to post

Unfortunately, it is true every time I post, I am in a poor state of mind. Or at least usually. The last long while, I have been feeling pretty spectacular about life. Everything has looked pretty promising. However, tonight marks a failure. Tonight marks another time where I find myself in a place of total dissatisfaction. Why does this happen? Some people go their entire lives without this feeling. I suppose there is nothing to do but buck up and know tomorrow will be better.

I have told my friends the only way I could consistently keep up with a blog is if I wrote about the opposite sex. It constantly consumes my attention, and ever produces fresh material. It is almost always bad material, unfortunately. My failings are inevitably highlighted, and I return at the end of the day as I started, with nothing.

I hate to be specific. These situations are always so petty, and in retrospect are embarrassing. It is never the girl the hurt is for, but for my inability to obtain something I want. It's a small reminder in the back of my mind that I've failed again. The females themselves are not important. And the sad thing is, I haven't even failed in any concrete way. I always back out as soon as there's a sign of competition, or an indicator of defeat. I run for my life before it has been made official. What a foolish approach! I still am as I always have been: my own worst enemy.

While this post has been depressing no doubt to read, in it's composition my sadness has been absolved. My troubled mind has received a shot of Novocaine.


*** Midnight Update ***
All is well with said situation. She came back to say what's up, and we talked for a while. It was really great. In the end, I am a child craving attention. When will I get over it?