When a narcissist senses their control slipping, they’ll often resort to “flipping the script,” projecting their own abusive actions onto the victim. They’ll paint their victim as "crazy," “unstable,” or even “dangerous,” hoping to sway others’ perception in their favor. Narcissists rely on this tactic to deflect attention away from their own behavior and silence the person who might expose them. But their lack of authentic emotion is what sets them apart from a true victim, revealing their game.
A narcissist can speak with conviction, but the emotions that a real victim feels heartbreak, confusion, and genuine pain are missing from their story. They speak in calculated terms, full of accusations designed to paint a grim picture of the person they hurt, but these words lack the depth of real empathy or grief. Their claims are rehearsed and dramatic, intended to keep others on their side. Behind this, though, is a hollow performance, more about image control than genuine emotion.
A true victim, on the other hand, isn’t acting. They’re devastated, caught between their love for the person they thought the narcissist was and the shock of what was done to them. They feel torn, confused, and heartbroken. Real victims loved deeply; they gave their trust, their vulnerability, and often endured mistreatment in the hope that things might get better. When they speak about what they’ve gone through, it’s with an emotional rawness that can be messy, unfiltered, and full of conflicting feelings love, anger, sorrow, and even self-doubt. They’re not trying to “take down” the narcissist; they’re trying to make sense of what happened to them.
The narcissist, in contrast, tries to make their victim sound “crazy” or “unstable” because they need to discredit them to cover their own actions. This projection creates a distraction, one that they hope will keep the real story from coming to light. They rely on people’s biases against “dramatic” emotions, knowing that genuine pain can sometimes come across as intense. But real victims aren’t unstable they’re traumatized. They’re still processing the gaslighting, the betrayal, and the harm done to them by someone they trusted.
The narcissist’s story lacks the empathy, the heartbreak, and the confusion that real victims display. Instead, they are coldly composed, their anger carefully directed and their accusations well-rehearsed. They aim to destroy their victim’s credibility, but it’s often their own lack of genuine emotion that gives them away. A narcissist’s response is full of accusations, but void of the vulnerability and reflection that show true remorse or sorrow.
In the end, the difference is clear. Real victims are often emotionally raw and openly hurting; they aren’t trying to convince the world of anything except the truth. Their voices might tremble, their stories might feel scattered, but every word carries the weight of lived experience. Meanwhile, the narcissist remains calculated, poised, and performative more concerned with appearances than with addressing the pain they’ve caused.
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