Magia sunt eu

It has happened to me so many times. Looking at someone and believing they are light embodied, that they are rare, unique, that they came into this world with a purpose intertwined with mine. Feeling like they have something I’ve never encountered before, something that irresistibly pulls me in, like a subtle spell, like a golden thread only I can see.

And then, one day, suddenly or gradually, without even realizing when, the connection unravels. And I find myself looking at them differently. As if a fog has lifted, and instead of light, there is only an ordinary person left. Just another human, with features I’ve seen a thousand times, with gestures that no longer feel special, with words that no longer echo inside me.

That’s when I understand. It was never about them. It never was. It was about me, about the way I projected beauty onto them. About how I saw them through an enchanted lens, colored by my own light, my own fire. It was about how I poured my energy, my hopes, my love into them, and in the reflection of that glow, I saw something extraordinary.

When the connection fades, what remains is the raw reality. And there’s nothing tragic about it. It’s just a simple lesson that comes back every time to remind me: no one is inherently magical.

The magic is me.