Hereâs a stronger, clearer, more cinematic version of your words â without losing your symbolism:
In time, I met a witch on one of my Midwestern journeys â two fires drawn to each other, but burning with different intentions.
When I told her honestly that I saw her as a friend and nothing more, something shifted. Soon after, as I began building a new relationship, she started sending pictures â images meant to intrude, to blur lines, to insert herself where she no longer belonged. What I thought were coincidences began to feel deliberate. The relationship I was building collapsed, and at first, I blamed myself.
I tried to stay with the witch. I convinced myself I had misjudged her. But something felt wrong â like standing too close to a flame that gives no warmth.
Then I found a box. Inside were pictures of me, her, and my ex â preserved like artifacts, curated like evidence. I didnât confront her. I didnât need to. She saw in my eyes that I had found it. Instead of explaining, she asked me to leave.
I went far away â at least for a time â not to escape her, but to break whatever hold the situation had on my mind. While she texted me to return, I chose silence. Distance became my ritual.
I realized the âwitchcraftâ was not mystical â it was psychological. The cure wasnât dramatic. It was discipline. Strong mental boundaries. Refusing emotional manipulation. Protecting my space. Grounding myself. Salt, symbols, rituals â they were metaphors for something deeper: self-control.
And ultimately, what kept me from being burned again was light â my faith, my clarity, my higher principles. Not fear of witches, but understanding of fire.
Now I know: not every flame is meant to be held. Some are meant to be walked away from.
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround