Guesswork Fairytales - Unoriginal At Best
“Royal, you’re a narcissist.”
“I know.”
“If you’re aware, why haven’t you changed?”
“Because I’m a narcissist, it would be against my nature to change perfection.”
The groan let out was incredulous and overly dramatic, yet well deserved. “Royal.”
The protest was understood, received, and collected into the consciousness of the one asked much in the same way one acknowledges a wave by a passing stranger. “Mm.”
Honestly, Royal was far too obsessed with what was currently being read; some book about something that clearly meant more to Royal than the one protesting that came from one who was making a valiant effort to change the very core of the narcissist in question. As is the art of a good book, it was helping the narcissist well ignore the nag.
“Aren’t you going to look at me?”
“If I were to look at you, would you vanish?”
“That’s a heavy statement.”
“I hadn’t realized we were supposed to be weighing our words.”
A deep sigh later and more nagging. “Stop answering my questions with questions. It’s incredibly irritating.”
“Ask better questions, then.” A moment’s pause was given. “Or possibly ask questions that deserve answers.”
“You’re saying the very state of your being, wrong or right as it may be, isn’t a good enough question to warrant a proper answer?”
The book was suddenly slammed shut. A peaceful conversation was, apparently, out of the question.
“What you’ve proposed is that I haven’t changed. I have changed. It’s impossible for anybody to stay the same. Between physical and mental development.” Apparently being a narcissist also meant being an ass.
“Moreover, to say I haven’t changed would be to say that a narcissist, as you have so plainly claimed me to be, were to change. Which, is of course, against a narcissist’s very nature.” A finger rose as if to stop, but this was simply to point out chasing a defining rabbit in the lull of the explanation being given.
“As you well know, narcissists are unchanging. They believe themselves to be perfection, so what room would they have in perfection too, in fact, perfect?” the hand was retracted, a definition of perfection now a point to be made. “I suppose what you meant to ask is why I haven’t become what you would have me to be, another that would bend and break under the will and wishes of others.” Surrender, as it were.
After a moment of silence, it was well understood that the argument had been won by the narcissist and not the nag. However, the narcissist, ever cocky, couldn’t simply leave the victory in the hands of silence. Also, the narcissist had a point to make, though the narcissist had become momentarily distracted by their own definitions and long-winded explanations.
“Your question answered itself the moment it was asked.”
“I’ll have you know one thing, Royal, and this is under no debate.”
“What’s that, Agatha?”
“You’re an ass.”
“As comes with the territory of a narcissist as well, I assure you.” Back to the book, slowly opening it and thumbing through to find the place where eyes once lingered before the conversation began. “It is astonishing to me how not doing as society wills acceptable has me categorized as an ass.”
“I uphold all of society?”
“You tend to be one who agrees with the masses, Agatha.”
There was a small moment of silence which could only be considered contemplation at its finest. “I suppose you’re right. So then, what does that make me? Opposite of a narcissist?”
“Unoriginal at best.”
