Yesterday was the worst day of my life
The narcissist’s view of reality.
“Bleh!” was the sound of eggs benedict casting itself from my body through my nose and mouth.
My eyes burned, and I squeezed them shut in a meager attempt to find some relief.
My belly pushed up in a violent reflex, my head dropped into the bowl again, and a guttural “Bleeeech” preceded the ejection of some semi-digested spinach that had accompanied my breakfast several hours before.
Four moments tick by.
Only then did my arms relax like limp overcooked noodles hanging from the toilet. I sat back on my haunches and slowly opened my bloodshot eyes.
“Sequitur,” I whispered in disdain as I thought, It follows that this morning would begin with the expulsion of my lovely meal with my family.
Of course, because it serves me right. Goodness fleeing from my body would be a most appropriate physiological response.
In truth, yesterday was terrible for me because I obliterated an innocent life with steely resolve. If I were honest, I would admit it was worst for her.
But honest is not something I am. No. I do horrible things and feel like the victim is the culprit — they made me do bad things. They ruined my day.
What a narcissist!
© Scarlet Ibis James, 2023: All Rights Reserved.
This story arose when I read a prompt by K.V. Fey: