ABOUT A NARC VOL 1 Chapter 2

ABOUT A NARC VOLUME 1

Chapter 2

Dear Victim,

I remember that day; like it was yesterday.  I told that dude to stop calling you.  You were my girl now, and he needed to back the fuck up.  We never heard from him again, right?  I heard you the day before when you complained about Art calling you.  You see, I listened intently to everything you said.  

Remember when you said you wanted those pink Timbs?  You were in between pay periods, and I got paid that week.  We were walking down 23rd Street in Manhattan one afternoon.  You gushed when you saw those boots, so I bought them for you.  It was perfect.  I was trying to sweep you off your feet.  I also took note of everything you did...and liked.

I saw you on Social Media.  The perfect woman to give me what I needed.  Your pictures were full of smiles, trips, friends, family.  You looked like you were real happy.  Especially the one where you were at the homeless shelter.   A thick, voluptuous woman with a real giving spirit.  You weren’t the only woman I was trying to get with.  I got kicked out of my apartment.  I didn’t give a fuck about rent, bills, anything.  All I knew is that I wanted to find a woman who would meet my needs; do everything I wanted her to do.  So many times I got with bitches who worked in non-management positions at retail stores or fast food restaurants.  They were big women, out of shape, had at least three kids each, and lived in the projects, and they were beneath me.  

You know how I was built.  I had a nice fucking body.  I’m a delectable, chocolate dude, and you weren’t like the rest of them.  You were happy; you were giving; you were perfect for what I needed.  I thought you could maybe provide me what I needed for the rest of my life.  It gets tiring getting with bitches who don’t make me feel good, or I get bored with.  Your house was clean; you cooked; you sexed me.  I knew you could make me feel the way I wanted to feel and I could stop looking constantly.  And for a while, you made me feel great.  You made me feel like a fucking king.  

So yeah I remember that day I told Art to stop calling you.  We were on the way to the train and he called you.  I had to let his ass know.  After all, you belonged to me.   I wanted to wife you, but not because of your personality, looks, and what you did for me.  I didn’t care about you, I only cared about how you made me feel.  And that morning, you didn’t do what I wanted before we left.  You didn’t cook me breakfast.  I know we were running late, and you had to get to work, but who gives a fuck about your job?  I took note of that, and you were going to be punished for that.