When A Narcissist Dies: The Disturbing Reality of Dying Narcissists
So the other day I replied to a screenshot of an “anon” ask that was trying to guilt me for not publicly reacting to someone named Ardeth dying.
Ardeth was one of the people, and the main person involved, in labor trafficking me for 8 years. They had been my best friend for years before that, but as soon as they got me to move in with them, they started cutting me off from all outside friends and help, and then took their mask off. I was at their beck and call 24/7, never allowed to sleep for more than 4 hours, did every bit of labor in the house for three people, eight cats, and a giant dog, and was constantly threatened with being thrown out on the street over the smallest and stupidest things. (Seriously, one time I was ‘kicked out’ because I’d laughed at an episode of Archer in my bedroom. Amazing.)
Ardeth flew off the handle at every perceived slight, IRL and online. They even flew off the handle if they didn’t think I was defending them sufficiently hard from slights by other people. They’d throw things at both myself and their disabled S/O, threaten that if they could get out of bed they’d beat whichever of us made them mad at that moment, threaten to just die (funny now, not so much when I cared about them), the whole nine yards!
I got away from them some years ago, and moved in with the ex roommates I often call “the children” on here. (They’ve since claimed to have only been friends with me out of pity, very cool and normal of them and not at all childlike!)
Anyway, while I lived with them they gleefully experimented on my health (and got caught once in a while), and have since bragged about it. They tried to con me into giving them my car for free after they knew they were going to leave but hadn’t told me yet, and for years they made happy use of my stuff and my skills.
When they left, they left every speck of trash and all their things behind in the house, doubling “my” stuff after crying ceaselessly to strangers behind my back about how hard it was living with a hoarder. Never said shit to me IRL before saying they were moving out, btw. Cool!
I took this video in case there was legal trouble later with the landlord or whatever, and kept it to myself. But hell with it, enjoy!
(I didn’t even ask them to clean out their shit and trash, they offered and volunteered and said right up to the end that they were going to do that. Whatever, obviously just a final ploy? And what a weird one at that? They stayed as Friendly As Could Be while here in person, probably so I’d keep giving them rides to things, like to pick up their new van. Whatever, I guess I’m fucking terrifying or something.)
Anyway, they fucked off in September 2017. Seven years ago, keep that in mind, because they and their buddies have dropped in on my tumblr fairly regularly ever since then, for some reason. I usually just roll my eyes and delete their messages, because, you know, some of us have other shit going on in our lives and they don’t live rent free in my head like I apparently live in theirs.
Around March, after Ardeth died, one of them dropped into my askbox on here to tell me. K. Already knew, already processed, didn’t care to react in public, delete!
Then the other day, the ask I replied to trying to... IDK, score some kind of moral points or something? because I hadn’t chatted about it in public and thus didn’t care?
But here’s the funny thing, this means they had to go scouring through seven or eight months of my fuckin tumblr to see if I’d ever replied or talked about it. Seven years after they moved out. What the fuck lmaaaaaaaaao
Ultimately, they’re right, I don’t care. And just as I said there, I’ll care even less when it’s them.
And I fully mean that, because I won’t even know? Probably? Like, I still had some contacts in common with Ardeth, but I don’t think I do with the children, and I don’t spare them a thought 99.9% of the time except on labor day (anniversary of my starting to live on my own, fuck yeah!) and sometimes when I’m doing something they’d hate, like naming a car. And then I have myself a little giggle. Imagine when I name my fuckin house! It’s going to be like an inside joke with myself by default, and I love that for me.
...Also, no, talking about that last ask a few days later doesn’t really count. This is me being amazed and amused at them scouring months of my tumblr looking for... IDK, anything. Seven years later. Fucking hilarious TBH.
And yeah, I know it’s them or their pals, because while they think they are VERY clever, no one else who knew Ardeth and myself would call them by their RP character name from one MMO, and feel the need to go ‘anon’ in my inbox. But dumb children are gonna be dumb children forever, I guess.
Enjoy shitting fire out of sheer rage, kiddos. I’ve shut off anons since it’s just donation requests and you lot as of late, but feel free to make lots of sock puppet accounts for me to laugh at and block cuz ya’all’re that mad and sad. 💕
Seven years of stalking, man. Yeah, I was the worst. You can tell I'm just awful, out here living my life, paying on my house, racking up raises at work, and not going out looking for ex buddies to stalk and harass. Truly diabolical of me.
Oh! While I’m at it, here’s exactly 1 year later in that same house, because clearly I was the problem and thus must have still been living in filth, right? Right.
like, lmao lol rofl okay