Me, the Witch
I am a witch – funny how the joke of an egoistic, wounded man became my identity. First, it was something painful, a reflection of something bad, but after a while it became something extremely meaningful and positive. I don’t know how this transition happened, but slowly I discovered my hidden magic, which some admire and some deeply fear.
One of my powers is seeing through people’s masks. Not at first sight, not every single layer, but the more I talk to someone, the more flaws I recognize. Small changes in their voice when they talk about something that stirs their emotions without them even realizing it, that little spark in their eyes when they show their vulnerability for a millisecond, etc. And the more they resist, the more I see, and the more scared or safe they become. And this happens without me showing my cards.
The other part of my magic is transforming my pain into something meaningful: resilience, wisdom, patience, hope, and art.
As the years passed by, I became less stubborn and more resilient. Standing my ground became something different: instead of locking everything out that is different from my values, I now let it flow through my soul. I am not fighting against it; I don’t need to. I know who I am and what I am worth. And this also means accepting the fact that I am not perfect and that I am not the only one holding the truth. I hold my own truth. The other person has theirs as well. Which leads to acceptance and wisdom. Realizing that I can only be present in someone’s life where they are, not where they could be.
That was a painful realization. If they are standing in a sunny field full of flowers, I can enjoy the moment with them.
If they are standing in their own pain and darkness, unable to see the way out, the only thing I can do is stand beside them, holding a torch and leading the way at the pace they want to walk. If they accept the help and accept that we are all human beings who need each other to survive and evolve. It is such a sad thing that this world expects you to stand on your own while the real power lies in community and unity.
And… if they want to push me out of their darkness because they don’t want to accept my presence, for whatever reason, I also have to accept that. I cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. In this case there are two things I can do: either walk away and never look back, or find a corner in the darkness, sit down, wait, and not disturb. To see if I will be needed, but not intervene.
There were times when I wanted to save people—but I realized that forcing never helps, and I only ended up hurting myself. I no longer fight to convince someone that they are worth more than their darkness. I used to, but I collected too many scars that should have never been mine.
And after a while I learned to sit in that darkness. But honestly, it is also draining. Watching and feeling another person struggle is something that leaves scars on me as well. I gave this kind of presence to way too many people, leading to nights when I couldn’t even sleep because I knew what the other person was going through. It took too much from me, too much baggage that should have never been mine, and it drained my energy to a point where I had nothing left to give myself.
So I became extremely selective with this as well. I am not sacrificing myself for someone’s potential.
But sometimes, on rare occasions, I still choose this path. Even when my conscious mind is shouting at me not to, when I know that logically it is the dumbest thing I can do and that I should just walk away, slam the door, and never look back.
But behind my conscious mind, behind my fears, my self-protection, and my walls, there is a quiet but resilient voice telling me to sit down and simply be there. To get those scars. To let my quiet, resilient presence change the space, to let my sunny energy flow through that very dark place. To have sleepless nights again. To fight against that darkness that would also consume me if I let it.
There is nothing logical about it—only something magical. Not even knowing where this presence will lead or whether it will make any difference.
At the end of the day, whatever the outcome is, it will be a lesson about myself.
How far I can go for someone I love.
How far I can go without losing myself in the process.
How I can protect myself in someone else’s darkness.
How I can prevent that darkness from triggering my own inner demons.
How I can be present simply because I want to, without knowing if I will ever get anything in return.
This is magic too. Turning my experiences and observations into self-awareness.
And the art… How I turn my pain into art deserves its own, very long article.