many simple things

{academic, creative, spiritual, cozy vibes} {may contain some fandom}

[many-simple-things]

I found this old poem my little brother wrote when he was ~15 and I think it’s great.

The Mountain Called Society

~

From the day a future parent

First puts on their ring,

They think of many ways

To make but one thing.

~

And that thing is you,

They start forming a mold

From the very first breath

You are told and told

~

You must do this, and do that,

And get a successful life.

Get smart, and get rich,

And don't cause them strife. 

~

Don't worry, it's out of love,

And it's because they care. 

But truly they want to see

How their creation will fare

~

On the rugged mountain called society,

With its super steep slope,

While you are young and compliant

And see nothing but hope. 

~

And as you get older,

You too want to climb.

And you go up and up,

One small step at a time. 

~

But as you go up it gets rough,

The rocks crumble and fall. 

You fumble and scratch and claw;

To stay on you give it your all. 

~

For this mountain does not have a harness,

You find yourself bruised on the ground. 

But you get back up,

You don't find it humiliating or profound. 

~

You work your hardest,

And you train every day. 

But much like your time,

Your hope, too, fades away. 

~

And now your parents

Are upset over you,

But they have a plan 

Of what they can do. 

~

They rebuild the mold,

And you are back on your way. 

You WILL have money,

And success, they say. 

~

Now there are many ways

I could go from here,

But I'll pick the one 

That parents want to hear. 

~

So, after climbing and climbing

And working, you get to the top

Because you worked hard,

Because you did not stop. 

~

Now you are there, 

You turn to look at the view. 

But to your own surprise,

Frowning is all you can do. 

~

Now you have it all:

Fame, a space, and a really large pay,

But still you look back

At your life with only dismay. 

~

Seems you have fallen prey 

To your parents ploy. 

You made it to the top,

But you missed out on the joy. 

~

Now this is where most

Would talk about having fun. 

But while climbing this mountain,

There really is none. 

~

In order to have fun,

Pick your own life, they say. 

But this large mountain 

Will still not go away. 

~

And so,

The savage cycle repeats,

For there is only one way;

No breaks and no cheats. 

~

Except for your son,

Because he is born with money

Off of your life's work,

Now isn't that funny?

~

Now your son

Has a home on this small hill,

He laughs at price tags

And the electricity bill. 

~

Finally, the top of the mountain

Is flat, and it's swell,

But the funny thing is

It's flat at the bottom as well. 

[many-simple-things]

I   H O P E   Y O U    F E E L    A L I V E

[many-simple-things]

When you scream into the darkness what is it you fear; the endless echo or an unexpected answer?

[a-burnt-out-academic]

I want to write a response to this…I just have to find the time

[a-burnt-out-academic]

And here we have it

You fear the endless echo

More than you fear the unexpected reply

Because when one screams into an empty cavern

They don’t expect the universe to comply

What they expect is to be answered

By the very thing they shout

Knowing the cavern did not have the solution

To all the things they doubt

So in a sense it was the echoed silence

That came shouting it’s way back

That caused such fear to take hold

And your perfect mask to crack

Normality is a twisting vine

Strangling everything in its path

And it be so continuously strangled

Will only result in your wrath

The cavern is a dark and senseless monster

In the echo that answers the scream

Yet just remember that in the darkness

Not everything is as it will seem.

[many-simple-things]

This is amazing xxx

[many-simple-things]

When you scream into the darkness what is it you fear; the endless echo or an unexpected answer?

[andromedaa-tonks]

“𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙖𝙮! 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨, 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮. 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙬𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙪𝙨. 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.”

[drarrywishes]

pansy : draco, oh my god, i heard a rumour that potter has a crush on you!

draco : [chokes on water]

draco : [spits it out]

draco : [dramatically falls to the ground, before standing up]

draco : okay, and? i don't care, what makes you think i do?  

[many-simple-things]

Another day, another ten hours spent reading fanfic and thinking way too much about Draco Malfoy.

[many-simple-things]

Tarot isn't for everyone; you have to be willing to do some self-reflection.

I read tarot for a fair number of people, both regularly and irregularly. The one criticism I will occasionally get is that the readings aren't specific enough. But here's the thing: tarot can't tell you "break things off with that person," or "buy the thing you saw in the store last Tuesday." I wouldn't recommend you trust someone who does claim they are capable of getting that type of message. True, some readers are more advanced than others and can give you a much better outline of what you can consider, but don't expect tarot or a tarot reader to be the equivalent of a Hollywood psychic.

What tarot does is tells you what you should reflect on and consider in order to get the end result you want or need. It shows you the path you should follow, but it doesn't list all the landmarks along the way.

[ugh51020801-deactivated20230104]

[many-simple-things]

1 & 2: Where you are now

3 & 4: Where you’re meant to be

5-8: How to get there

Message me for readings!

[many-simple-things]

Insipired by my mom, who pronounces “wicker” like “Wicca.” Happy spooky season 🎃🦇🍂☕️

[thehopefulquotes]

Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.

— Rumi

[many-simple-things]

Wondering how you and that special someone you’ve got your eye on would actually match up??

(Yes it’s supposed to look like a heart but it’s a bit f*cked up there)

DM me for tarot readings if you can’t do it yourself!!

[many-simple-things]

AU where Harry is raised by Sirius (who actually got a fair trial) and Remus (because why wasn’t he), AND gets sorted into Slytherin.

I swear by the time Voldemort came back Harry would be so OP from being raised magically, sassy, cunning, and generally used to stirring shit up he’d just wreck the Dark Lord right then and there.

[many-simple-things]

Me: *looks out the window at the sunset*

Me: Ah yes, what a lovely evening.

Me: So nice to have a night free and not have to worry about anything.

Me:

Me: ...

Me: But seriously what the f*ck was Draco’s storyline he was robbed

[many-simple-things]

Unwanted Feelings Spread. 

Made this one a while back. I often have strong negative feelings or anxiety that I can’t identify the source of. This has helped every time! Seeing the truth behind your feelings is the first step in taking control of them.

Have a lovely Thursday <3

[many-simple-things]

Remainder

There is no pattern to your arrival. You appear silently, unannounced, in perfect juxtaposition to the way you left.

Sometimes it is predictable; I am at my weakest. Other times it shocks me; I am happy, warm and safe in bed.

Circumstance aside, I close my eyes and you are there waiting. Waiting to choke me with lies, carve me with broken promises, belittle me with a single look.

Paralyzed; your presence, your fake smile, a sickening sense of obligation. I am held back.

You don’t even have to touch me to keep me captive; the weight in my chest far too heavy for me to lift. Again, I fail.

I fail to leave, as I did for years before. My mind is its own detriment; I am nothing, prisoner to a debt I have been convinced I owe.

In sleep, I cannot remember the lessons I have torn myself apart to learn. I cannot remember I am more than you. I cannot remember I deserve better. I cannot remember it is not my fault when you hurt me.

Broken.

Suffocating.

Falling; not in love, but apart.

Each crack in my heart I have plastered over, painted to present a convincing facade, reappears.

The fixes I have labored over are ripped away; it is once more a mosaic, a thousand tiny shards instead of one.

Disfigured.

Foreign.

You tear me down. Sometimes I feel you there, other times I simply watch as I repeat the mistake you were.

I scream at the top of my lungs at the foolish girl I was. I tell her to run, I tell her to stop believing in you, I tell her you’re not beautiful, I tell her she knows better deep down. I tell her to save herself.

If she hears, she doesn’t listen.

I shatter.

When I wake, you are gone, but I am still in pieces. I feel you heavy in my veins, rigid muscles and objecting joints there to remind me of our fictitious exchange.

Perhaps I will reach up slowly, weakly, to dry my face.

Perhaps I will simply lie there, hollow, the entirety of my being stolen by the ghost of you.

Regardless, I will wonder for the hundredth time when this will end, when I will have peace, when I will be whole and strong again.

You’re gone, and I will never want you back.

Yet you remain.