His Tenderness Murdered Me in the End

When a gentle, soft-spoken covert narcopath smothers with sweetness and kills you with kindness

Prajinta Pesqueda

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“Hey Mom, look at my pretty smile. Now do you love me?” Image by Robert Zunikoff

Preface: They are freaks — twisted, wretched, deformed, pathetic and perverse iterations of who they once were. They did it, killed themselves and became this soulless superhero, at least in their own world of illusion and magical thinking…

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Prajinta Pesqueda

Educator, aspiring humanist, composer of words. Survivor, warrior, healer, believer. Contact me at Narc2Thrive@gmail.com