Narcissistic Abuse as Demonic Theft

You begin to forget who you were before them.

The silence they weaponized taught you to shrink.

Every room became a minefield,

you learned to read the air before breathing it.

Their voice replaced your own,

until doubt felt more familiar than certainty.

You isolated not because you wanted solitude,

but because explaining the inexplicable exhausted you.

You scanned faces, tones, and pauses for danger.

You became a student of someone else's moods,

a stranger to your own.

The cruelest theft wasn't your confidence,

it was your sense of self.

Healing begins the moment you remember you had one.

That self never left, it was only buried.

And buried things, given light and time, still grow.

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HOLY SILENCE