Their Final Dirty Move Cannot Touch Me

The narcissists saved their dirtiest move for last. When they couldn’t control me anymore, they tried to convince me that my growth was dysfunction — that my stillness was insanity. But the truth is this: the only thing driving them insane is my silence.

They don’t regret hurting me. They don’t regret the lies, the betrayals, the gaslighting. They regret something far smaller, far uglier — that they weren’t clever enough to make me scream back, to trap me in their echo chamber. They regret not being as powerful as they thought they were.

Their “guilt” is not conscience — it’s weakness. It piles up because they can’t see themselves as weak. They wear paranoia like a crown, trying to rebuild the illusion while it crumbles in their hands.

But I am gone. And my absence is the loudest sermon they will ever hear.

My silence is self-respect. Without my reaction, they lose their sense of self. Without my recognition, they lose significance. Without me to mirror them, they disappear into nothing.

This is the brutal truth they cannot escape:

• Without my energy, they rot.

• Without my recognition, they dissolve.

• Without my weakness, they have no power.

I am not running from discomfort. I am forged by it. I can sleep with one eye open. I can walk through exile. I can face the silence they cannot bear.

Their final dirty move cannot touch me — because I do not move for them anymore.