The martyr

She runs hectically around the room, well aware that her presence is of interest to nobody but herself. With a smile on her face, she greets all and sundry sotto voce – physical contact included, whether wanted or not.

Relying on elfin stealth, the selflessly nagging martyr to narcissism attempts to make herself heard. Underpinned by the gentle movements of her delicate limbs and a voice so soft that it immediately gets under the skin of those within earshot, she immediately weighs in with her own opinion. Preferably on topics that don’t concern her, solely to demonstrate that everything is in fact about her.

All-knowing and with nothing but the best of intentions when it comes to her own well-being, she attempts to shift the blame onto someone else. She points her finger at others in an effort to deflect all guilt from herself and show that she is acting solely out of the kindness of her heart – true to the motto: Do good and tell everyone about it. Should the plan to demonstrate her own superiority not remain unhampered by the incompetence of those around her, she will resort to moans and groans to lend her voice the necessary self-pity.

The shortcomings of others are a load she has to bear. Her delicate body tenses up at the sadness over the burden of own perfection – it’s others who iron out her failings. She wears the yoke of divine privilege on her sleeve.

In all innocence, she shares her artlessness with the subtlety of the lash of a whip in order to spread a little light and meaningfulness among those present. This total devotion to making the others focus their attention entirely on her is an energy-sapping act of infinite altruism.

…Always only thinking about everyone else.