Narcissus & the Reflections in the Water

When personal daily journaling feels like an exercise in narcissism

Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash

Journal, 24th of June 2026

This is a companion piece to June 23rd’s journal, The ([un]-reachable) outside world. You can read them separately, but I just wanted to mention that the idea for this journal came up while writing that one.

A fear of narcissism

Narcissus — the unfathomably beautiful figure from Greek mythology — was so entranced with his own reflection in a pool of water that he completely ignored the advances of other people. This is indeed where the term narcissism originates from; a frame of mind characterized by an obsession with oneself and one’s own needs over the feelings of others. In some versions of the Narcissus myth, he eventually disintegrates from the sheer agony of being unable to caress his true love (which was, I remind you, just his reflection), and so the first narcissus flower is born from his remains.

The reason this theme and myth came to my mind is because of what I wrote yesterday; about how the human form is one of the highest peaks of art in the world, insofar as things birthed by the natural world can be consider art. I reflected (pun not intended) upon how unattainable one’s own human mind may be to oneself, and how that is both a blessing and a curse.

A guy obsessed with getting nearer to understanding himself, but not being able to reach it?

Sounds kinda familiar, no?

In my time as a young adult, I’ve occasionally struggled with feelings of being “too” self-centered. I vividly remember a period from upper middle school when I was legitimately scared that I was talking too much about myself or thinking that I wanted other people to stop talking so I could get my word out. I don’t know why I suddenly became so hyper-vigilant about that kind of behaviour during that time; it might’ve been because we had some philosophy or psychology courses.

I later learned that while I truly wanted to interject people in conversations during that time, it was likely because my hyperactive brain made it incredibly hard for me to retain what I was thinking about during a conversation unless I blurted it out as quickly as possible. It was either that or zoning out of conversations entirely (which I admittedly occasionally still do); I had yet to learn a lot of the coping mechanisms that I know now.

Over time, the irrational fear of being perceived as narcissistic withered away. And I truly mean it when I say irrational, because I rarely ever talk about myself unless I’m specifically asked something — which might actually be leading me into more trouble than being a bit more proactive about it. The grand irony of all this is that while talking about these things here on my journal, I’m essentially just talking about myself. This is like the grand altar for the Joel Vulpes-cult (accepting new members!). But it’s honestly hard (read. impossible) not to be self-centered in a journal project made to work as a kind of self-improvement diary.

Photo by Ashkan Forouzani on Unsplash

And so I’m kind of back at square one, asking myself whether I’m narcissistic for being so interested in knowing myself better, or for organizing my thoughts on the daily and broadcasting them to the wider world. There’s really no expectation in my mind that a lot of people would be interested and/or invested in me as a person, which is somewhat antithetical to publishing these journals, but I do think that even if people aren’t interested in me per se, they might feel like the experiences of someone else can help them reflect on their own feelings about the topics I cover. Or at least that’s my hope for this project.

But I still can’t escape the feeling that at some level, I’m just a guy staring at my reflection in a pond, trying to pound my fists at the water and expecting to squeeze gold out of it.

Is it wrong to secretly want other people to read your thoughts?

Openness as a vector for attention-seeking

The home I grew up in was incredibly open when it came to sharing; there were very few things that I felt I couldn’t talk about. That feeling and that pattern of thinking stuck with me as I moved out, and I’ve noticed that openness is not the trend in the wider world. I don’t know if it’s people getting trapped within their own social media spheres or growing up in households where openness was not the norm, but I sometimes feel like a lot of people are shocked by somewhat innocuous topics.

If I tell people I’ve talked about sex toys with my mother, they’ll often be like “that’s disgusting!”. Umm, why exactly? Are we not both adults with sexual experiences? It’s not like a stork dropped me off on my mom’s doorstep 26 years ago. I guess the expectation is that if we’re discussing such matters, the discussions have to be overtly gratuitous. I think that’s just dumb. Furthermore, I think it is more revealing about their relationship with their parents if they feel like these seemingly mundane topics are somehow off-limits.

But what does this have to do with anything I talked about previously? Well, the ethos of this project has been that no topic is truly off-limits, even if I decide to use my editorial discretion when choosing what to cover. But I could still imagine that someone might view any particular wacky topic as attention-seeking, bringing us back to the narcissism thematic. It can be hard not to seem self-centered when you’re covering potentially inflammatory topics and you have opinions about them that you’re not afraid to say out loud.

The weight of caring for others

Another thing I learned in my childhood was that taking care of other people is very important. My mother works as a healthcare professional. She has two (three?) degrees on that front. Caring for people is what she does. It’s in her DNA. We even moved towns when I was little — first and foremost to be closer to my great-grandparents so that we could better take care of them. And we did, until their passing. When my grandma got dementia, mom was visiting her constantly. First every week or so, then almost every day. I was there too, and that frame of mind of caring for other people got imbued into me.

We had two cats and a great dane — all that needed to be cared for by me and mom. She gave insulin injections to my cat for over a year when he was diagnosed with diabetes, all the way until he passed.

The reason I bring up all this caring is because people who care a lot tend to lose themselves in the caring for others. They put others before themselves; even neglecting themselves at times.

My best friend is a good example of this — she not only works in the care industry (surprise surprise), but she also does things for her friends (myself included) that I think go above and beyond what most people would do. Sometimes to a degree that seems almost detrimental to themselves, which is why I’ll occasionally ask “why?” of them and they’ll just shrug it off, saying “it just makes me happy to do things for others”.

Photo by Simone Dalmeri on Unsplash

This is fine as long as you stay cognisant of what your own limits are. But I think those limits have the tendency to stretch a lot when your loved ones are in trouble; you’ll find yourself straining even further to help them until you suddenly realize that you can stretch no longer. Then you’ll be hit by the feeling of being pulled back — past your original form, into a small tangled ball. A stringy mess, compacted by the weight of other people’s worries that you took on your shoulders.

I’ve done this. My mother has done this. My best friend has done this. We’ve all done this a lot of times, actually. You’ve probably done this even if you don’t identify yourself as a particularly caring or altruistic person.

But that isn’t even the worst part in my opinion. The worst aspect of this is that when you get pulled back into a tangle, you suddenly wake up to the realization that you (yes you) are actually your own person! But that thought doesn’t fill you with joy — at all. Instead, you’ll start wondering if you should be caring about yourself whatsoever. You know, your friend — the one that you just helped by pouring all your mental energy into — they have it so much worse. How dare you feel like you’re drained after doing that?

For me, that can feel extremely narcissistic. It doesn’t help that I’m cognizant of the fact that it’s not. It feels that way no matter how I try to rationalize it.

Photo by Jesus Hilario H. on Unsplash

Untangling the mess —reflections in the pool

So if we take all of these messy feelings, how do we clear up the lingering fear of narcissism?

My answer is pretty straight-forward. We don’t. We just learn to live with it.

The thing with true narcissism is that narcissists rarely actively think about how self-indulged they are. The mere fact that you’re cognizant about your self-centered thoughts is almost an antidote against narcissism. Being concerned about your own feelings does not make you a narcissist, and thinking that it does will not help you. You’ll just feel even worse.

If writing down your feelings or opinions or — god forbid — sharing them online is narcissistic, then we’re all narcissists merely for using the internet. That Project Hail Mary review you left on LetterBoxd? Peak narcissism. The comment you left on your friend’s newest Instagram post? Why would you inject your opinion onto their content like that? If you think that writing about narcissism from your own perspective on Medium is — in itself — an exercise in narcissism, then you’re probably a doofus. But maybe you’re a doofus that thinks doofus thoughts but is self-centered enough to have done self-reflection to realize that not all self-interest is bad for you.

In fact, if you do care about others, then you might forgive yourself for not always giving 120% of yourself to others at once, because you realize that by not burning yourself out instantly, you can actually care for people better long-term.

Sometimes, you have to stare at reflections in a pool to see things that you couldn’t notice otherwise. Maybe you’ll see the faces of the people standing beside you, and you might start to wonder why your reflection is the only one that’s frowning. And if you spend long enough peering into that pool, you might just realize that it’s always better to look into a pool than it is to drown in it.

End note: It’s worth mentioning that there should be a clearer demarcation between narcissism (as it is used colloquially) and narcissistic personality disorder (or NPD, a real psychiatric diagnosis). These things shouldn’t be used interchangeably, because it devalues their meaning, much like has happened with using OCD as a rhetorical implement.