Oh, gather ’round, my fellow witches, for I have a tale of love spells gone awry and sandwich cookies filled with both sweetness and regret. Picture it: I was a 16-year-old witchling, armed with spells from the mystical realms of Pinterest and Tumblr. Little did I know, my foray into the world of love magic would be a rollercoaster of possessive energy and creamy frosting.

In the grand tradition of misguided teenage hearts, I decided it was a fantastic idea to bind my long-distance boyfriend to me forever. Yes, I know, cue the eye rolls and headshakes. Love binding spells may sound like a romantic notion, but my intentions were all kinds of wrong. Lesson one: It’s not cool to bind someone unwillingly, especially not with the power of a sandwich cookie.

Now, let’s talk about love spells. I’m here to declare, with the conviction of a witch who has learned the hard way, that love spells are a no-go unless both parties willingly sign up for the mystical ride. Consent is key, my friends, and it’s a hill I’m ready to die on – or at least roll down dramatically on a broomstick.

Back to my ill-fated love binding adventure. Armed with a recipe and the optimism of a teenager in love, I carved our initials into a sandwich cookie, slathered on a creamy frosting middle, and hoped for a happily-ever-after ending. Spoiler alert: it worked, but not in the way I expected (shocker).

Fast forward a few years, and our once one-hour-distant relationship turned into an 18-hour marathon of misery. We tried to make it work, but reality hit hard, and I eventually called it quits. Little did I remember the love spell from my adolescent days – that is, until I heard how badly he took the breakup.

Turns out, my attempt at a happily-ever-after sandwich cookie spell was more powerful than I thought. Every time we tried to part ways, the spell pulled us back into a toxic relationship. It was only when I embraced the power of proper research and adulthood that I realized a cord-cutting spell was in order.

Two candles, our names, and a cord wrapped three times around – I set those suckers on fire, and oh, did it feel like a weight lifted off my magical shoulders. The shadow of that ill-fated love spell was gone, and I could finally breathe again. It turns out, the key to breaking a spell is more fire, less frosting.

So, my dear fellow witches, let this be a cautionary tale. Love spells may scar you for life, but they also make for one heck of a story. As for me, I’ve sworn off love spells involving others. Self-love? Absolutely. But when it comes to meddling with someone else’s heart, I’ll stick to brewing potions that are a little less…sticky. After all, there’s magic in learning from our teenage mistakes and finding humor in the witchy journey of life. Blessed be, and may your love spells be as sweet as they are consensual.

Until next time, lovely souls – stay safe, stay magical, and as always, have the day you deserve. Toodles for now!