They fall in love with your potential, your energy, your loyalty, your soft heart, your ability to forgive, your achievements, your resources, your light — not because they genuinely value you, but because they believe they’re entitled to it all. They’re not drawn to your soul — they’re drawn to what they can take from it.
From the very beginning, it’s a performance. They mirror you, study you, become everything you want — only so they can gain access. They will love bomb you, flatter you, praise you endlessly — until you let your guard down. But once they know they’ve secured a spot in your heart, their true self begins to show.
The attention fades. The affection becomes conditional.
The warmth you once felt turns cold and confusing.
Suddenly, you’re walking on eggshells, questioning your worth, blaming yourself for the change you can’t explain.
What you don’t realize at first is this: the love they gave wasn’t real — it was bait.
They needed something from you: admiration, control, money, sex, validation, a status boost — and once they got it, they began devaluing you. They don’t fall in love with people — they become obsessed with what you can provide, and once that use fades, so does their interest.
You were never seen as an equal partner. You were a supply source.
A trophy. A reflection. A mirror they could shine in — until the cracks began to show.
And when you finally begin to stand up for yourself — when you ask for accountability, honesty, respect — they will spin it, blame you, call you difficult, sensitive, crazy, or ungrateful. Because for them, your pain is never the problem — your voice is.
A narcissist doesn’t want love — they want control.
They don’t want partnership — they want ownership.
They don’t want to grow with you — they want to drain you.
And the saddest part? You likely gave them the purest version of yourself.
But that version wasn’t something they cherished — it was something they consumed.
So if you’re hurting right now, wondering what went wrong — please understand:
You did nothing wrong.
You loved too deeply someone who only knew how to take.
You gave someone the best parts of you, and they mistook it for weakness.
But your strength? It’s not in how much you endured.
It’s in how you finally chose to walk away, reclaim your peace, and love yourself harder than they ever could.
Their version of love was manipulation.
Yours was real.
And that is something they’ll never be capable of — and never forget.
You didn’t lose them.
They lost you.
And that was their biggest mistake.
Stitched Wings Outreach 