The person in the mirror is a stranger. A ghost in your own skin. The reflection is warped, distorted, a funhouse-mirror version of the person you used to be. This is the first and most devastating wound of narcissistic abuse. It’s not just that they hurt you, betrayed you, or lied to you. It’s that they stole your reflection. They replaced your face with a mask of their own making, a projection of their own emptiness. And you, in your beautiful, open-hearted love, you wore it. You wore it until you forgot the feel of your own skin. Let’s call this what it is. Not a misunderstanding. Not a communication issue. Not a rough patch. This was a psychic theft. A soul-level robbery. The narcissist, in their desperate, insatiable hunger for a self, devours yours. They are a black hole of need, and you were the star they collapsed into their orbit. They told you who you were, and you believed them. They said you were too sensitive, so you numbed your heart. They said you were too demanding, so you silenced your needs. They said you were crazy, so you began to doubt your own sanity. It’s a slow,