I’m tired.” she said. “I’m tired of pretending to feel empty about everything. I’m tired of laughing at people when they assumed that I don’t feel anything at all. Because of course, I feel something. I almost feel everything that it suffocates my whole being. I feel it when someone slowly losing interest in me as if they were clouds—fading in the sky during warm summer days. As if they were colors melting their brightest shades. I feel my heart breaking when someone continuously pointing out my mistakes that it erased all the right things I’ve ever done in my whole life. As if everything went blank, and I need to start doing something again that will make them proud. I feel people’s words touching what’s deep within me. Especially when they were the people who were important to me. Especially when they were the people who I always expected to understand the real me.” she looked down at her hands catching her breath heavily. She wasn’t used on opening up her heart to someone. She wasn’t used on telling everything that’s on her mind. Yet she knew, this was the best thing she needed to do. That this can ease the burdens she’s been lifting up for too long. She sighed slowly, then she said, “I just want you to know, that even if people tried to pretend that there’s a black hole inside of them, they will always end up touching their chests and feel their heart beating.
All you need is a wax warmer, some plain tea-lights and glitter.
1) Slid wax out of metal base, cut wax - saving the wick and base!
2) Melt color of choice (I use leftovers from other candles)
3) Pour a thin layer - add glitter.
4) Add wick!
5) Repeat pouring and glittering process until close to top. For final layer add a bunch of glitter because glitter ✨
Gryffindor red is the color of lips before a kiss. It’s the color bloody noses and skinned knees, of scabs forming over knuckles. It’s the color of floor length curtains and old rugs with too much fringe. It’s the red that tinges anger, sleeps at the heart of anxiety, and escorts love. It’s the color of a dancer’s dress as she spins in front of a window. The color of melted sealing wax. It’s a robin’s chest, a roaring crowd, and the hearth within an old stone building. It’s the color of home.
Slytherin green is the color of ivy wreathing windows. It’s the color of forest leaves and crushed grass, of pebbles covered in moss. It’s the color of forgotten old paintings and favorite coats with ripped pockets. It’s the green that bathes with jealousy, mixes with fatigue, and gleams next to excitement. It’s the color of a worn quilt. The color of nails tapping in anticipation. It’s the pine tree boughs, a whisper in an ear, and the world right before it rains. It’s the color of life.
Ravenclaw blue is the color of the sky a breath after dusk. It’s the color of the ocean and morning fog, of tears slipping down a cheek. It’s the color of wide eyes and the fresh sheets on a newly made bed. It’s the blue that swirls with sadness, smiles at greed, and dances with wonder. It’s the color of a ribbon marking a page in a book. The color of a fallen feather. It’s the hiss of the wind, the howl of a wolf, and a teacup set perfectly in the center of its dish. It’s the color of hope.
Hufflepuff yellow is the color of pollen stained fingers. It’s the color of dandelions and old parchment, of an unopened locket. It’s the color of fresh pie and old bruises. It’s the yellow that takes guilt’s hand, whirls with loneliness, and links arms with joy. It’s the color of dust drifting through sunbeams. The color of broken paintbrushes. It’s the whine of a teakettle, a pair of loved socks, and a wide open window. It’s the color of light.