Before I published today’s Medium piece about the obsession with spotting narcissists, I reread this older poem of mine copied below. And honestly, this is the dynamic I wish we talked about more. Not the fear-based hunt for villains. Not the cold diagnostic language that gets thrown around after a breakup. But the quieter, more painful truth: how often we never actually see the person we were with until we’re already grieving them.
There’s a particular kind of blindness that shows up in relationships where we want something so badly we start inventing versions of the other person. We build the fantasy first and meet the human much later. And by the time reality shows up, the relationship is already slipping through our hands. Disappointment hits us like a harsh hospital light.
We don’t talk enough about how easy it is to fall for the edited version we created in our own mind. Or how morally complex that is to do to another person. It’s only in retrospect—when the storyline collapses—that we realize how much we filled in on their behalf, how much we needed them to be someone they never had the capacity or the personal values to be.
This piece is the closest I’ve come to describing that moment. The moment when the fantasy breaks apart and the real person appears, unchanged, exactly as they always were. It’s a different kind of heartbreak and a different kind of cruelty. Not betrayal, not villainy—just the collective grief of seeing clearly for the first time.
That inner knowing of—this was never what I wanted.
And that’s the conversation I wish we had more often:
“What part of me needed to fall in love with someone I never actually met?”
Because if you are a person that credits yourself as being a dreamer or a lover but in reality builds a life that always feels like it isn’t ever quite actualizing, this is why…
Here’s the original poem: A Re-Made You
I close my eyes.
I summon a remade you.
I blink as your outline sharpens.
I trace new lines in your palms.
I stare into renewed irises.
I marvel at polished edges.
You’re fluent in my language now.
You press one finger to my lips.
You breathe in my rhythm.
You are gravity, calm and sure.
You are the silence after thunder.
You are the bed my body names.
Our hearts beat in tandem.
Our lives fold on the same crease.
Our old scars loosen and fade.
Our silences speak one tongue.
I open my eyes.
Our vision scatters like dust.
You stand where you always did — unchanged.
I swallow the blood of almost.
I write primarily to support my small business, christinaelaine.com
I am a somatic coach, writer, and curriculum creator writing about the interior life of modern relating, weekly on Medium & Substack. I also host interviews on YouTube.
Love this! Your exploration of fantasy vs. reality in terms of romantic relationships is important.
These two quotes stood out: "We don’t talk enough about how easy it is to fall for the edited version we created in our own mind. Or how morally complex that is to do to another person."
"morally complex" I've never considered the morality of creating a fantasy of someone before, but of course! What a disservice to see someone not as they are, but as who you wish they were.
The other quote, "“What part of me needed to fall in love with someone I never actually met?”
POW! What a great question.
I'm much older than you are so my references come from an earlier time. Looking back at my youth, I see I was looking for the Ryan O'Neill character in the movie "Love Story," and a version of a Kennedy man, which is so similar - the Ivy League, wealthy, handsome, powerful man who "has it all." (whatever that is)
What a waste that fantasy chase was, but I learned my lessons. Still, my illusions changed my entire life.
Your writing is thoughtful, original, timely, and valuable. I'm glad I found you.