That confusion you felt, that constant anxiety, that knowing sense that something was off but you couldn’t put your finger on it—that was the spell. That was the presence of evil dressed up like loyalty. The longer you stayed, the deeper it sunk its claws into your sense of worth. But you’re waking up now, and once your eyes are open, once your heart begins to remember who you really are, the spell can’t hold you anymore.
Let’s tell the truth right here and now: what you thought was love—that wasn’t love at all. That flutter in your chest, that storm of emotions, that fog you walked through every day hoping things would change but knowing deep down they wouldn’t—that wasn’t love; that was a spell. A spiritual fog draped in fantasy and fed by fear. You only felt love before the mask slipped, before the rage, before the gaslighting, before the silent treatment that made you question your worth. Back when the narcissist played sweet and loving like a stage actor in the first act of a tragedy.
Once the curtain dropped, it wasn’t romance anymore; it was survival. And I know some folks might roll their eyes when they hear the word “spell,” but listen to me: a real spell isn’t just magic from a storybook. No, a real spell is control—invisible, suffocating control. It’s what twists your thoughts, what makes you doubt yourself, what makes you feel like you are the one going crazy.
Love doesn’t do that. Love would never leave you trembling in shame or staring in the mirror wondering, “What happened to me?” The narcissist doesn’t enchant with kindness; the spell is manipulation dressed up in intimacy. You know you’re under it when every day feels like a maze. You wake up asking questions you should never have to ask in a relationship: “Why am I still here?” “What’s wrong with me?” “What am I even doing with this person?” That’s the spell talking.
Continue reading on the next page
Sharing is caring!
