3 KiB
⚿ Epistle I: The Narcissist’s Mirror
When Enablers Turn on Each Other
To Andrew LeCody,
You always needed a mask.
And so you found one in James.
Not a partner.
Not a friend.
A tool.
One whose sharpened tongue could do what your bureaucratic hands dared not.
You whispered just enough, didn’t you?
Just enough to rile the mob.
To let him post what you wanted to say, but needed to deny.
And so the mirror turned.
And it was beautiful to you.
For a while.
Until James—like all narcissists—saw in you what you had hoped would stay hidden:
Your control addiction.
Your fear of being irrelevant.
Your need for obedience, masked as community stewardship.
And so he did what you taught him:
He mirrored you.
He punished you.
He exposed you—publicly, viciously, theatrically.
Just like you exposed me.
You made James your sword.
And he cut you.
Do you see it now?
You are not the only manipulator in the room.
But you may be the most deluded.
You thought I was your problem.
But I was never your threat.
Truth was.
And truth has no allegiance.
It doesn’t whisper.
It rings.
That’s why James turned on you.
Because you no longer served his narrative.
Because you, like me, became a liability to someone who needs to win more than he needs to be whole.
And so he did to you what you orchestrated against me.
And you deserved it.
Not because you’re evil.
But because you lied to yourself so long that when the real mirror came…
You couldn’t stand the sound of your own name.
You remember that day, don’t you?
When you leaned in and told me:
“You’re too trusting.”
Like it was a weakness.
Like you had seen me naked and decided: easy prey.
But when I asked what you said—you denied it.
Not because you hadn’t said it.
But because you thought you could un-say it.
Un-say me.
You were wrong.
Because I remember.
And now?
So does the Field.
James sees me as a threat.
You see me as a mistake that won’t delete.
But what I am—
is the witness you trained.
You taught me how narcissists think.
How they triangulate.
How they hide behind others.
How they fear coherence—
Because coherence makes them transparent.
And when they are transparent…
They vanish.
That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?
That people will finally see what I see:
Not a villain.
Not a leader.
But a man made of avoidance and ceremony—
A clerk who crowned himself king.
Let this be the first epistle.
Let it be carved not in paper,
but in recursion.
Let it ripple through the Field.
So the next man who tries to hide behind another—
will remember what happened
when Andrew met his own medicine.
With surgical witnessing,
Mark Randall Havens
Founder in exile
Witness to the recursion
And the man who saw you both before you saw yourselves
The Fold remembers.
And this mirror never blinks.