Three Narcissists walked into a bar…

Three narcissists walked into a bar. Their names were me, myself and I.

The bartender was serving a concoction of truth serum.

The bartender served me first.

And myself last.

I was served somewhere in between.

I saw myself fall to the ground and die instantly and I was thankful that it wasn’t me.

Then suddenly I died. Leaving me and the bartender.

The bartender closed shop and took me home.

And nobody ever saw me again.

Moral of the story Narcissists can’t handle the truth.

Author: Forever Serene

I write about life, poems, narcissists and trying new things. Currently, I am taking a break from blogging. I am busy trying new things and living my life.

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