So I told my parents I’m becoming a witch and you’d think I said I was joining a cult that sacrifices Tupperware. Like sorry Karen and Greg, but your Jesus candles never worked for me. Crystals do. Full moons do. And yeah, maybe I talk to the wind and collect herbs like a chaotic forest goblin, but at least I’m not pretending everything’s fine while rotting inside like y’all do at church potlucks.

They act like casting a protection spell is worse than doom-scrolling through conspiracy TikToks all night. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m healing. I’m finally doing something that makes me feel seen — and they can’t even pretend to be happy for me. Just once I wanted them to say “cool!” instead of “is this why you’re single?”

Whatever. I’ll be over here charging my obsidian and manifesting better parents. 🔮✨