orangfrckls

[orangfrckls]

its a little messy but i kinda like it. im gonna make more of these

[orangfrckls]

my greatest love

it wasn't the kind you'd profess your affections and shout from the cliffs of a hill, that you loved him. it wasn't the kind where you would hold hands and run through fields of sunflowers, laughing yourself giddy and gasping for the warm air, that felt sweeter than honey. Neither was it the kind where you'd dance in the rain and feel like the stars lived in your hearts and and gold ran through your veins.

it wasn't the kind i'd imagined it to be.

but it was the kind where we lived too far apart and could only talk at midnights, because my parents were strict. it was the kind where I'd text him about the progress of the new town i was making in Minecraft and he'd tell me about the new blender or after effects project he was working on. it was the kind where my laptop's mic wasnt working and i could only speak using my hands and my expressions but he always understood me. it was the kind where he stayed up with me till 4 am on discord because i had to finish writing my physics record, he just kept talking to keep me awake. it was the kind where i knew he hated being cheesy but he always tried because i liked it, so he would try acting cute and then cringe internally afterwards. at the end of each day and the beginning of the next, right before i fall asleep, he used to tell me he loved me, and i felt so good that i dreamt happy dreams. they were happy because he was in it.

i was surprised how this love could made me feel so.

but then it became the kind of love that my mother found out about, and asked me why i wanted to bring shame into my family. it became the kind of love that made me brave enough to tell her, that i did truly love him. it became the kind of love that scared me because of how upset it made my mother, all because i was christian and he wasnt. it became the kind of love that encouraged me to tell her that he was ready to even change his religion for me.

i was devastated when she told me that our love will never be acceptable. Neither to my community nor to my god.

it turned into the kind of love that made me tell him that it wont work because my mom would never allow it, and i would never truly be happy if i did something that upset my mother as much as this love did . it turned into the kind of love that made him want to stop speaking afterwards because we are only going to keep hurting each other if we continue. it turned into the kind of love that always had me thinking about him and had me wonder if i would ever find anyone better than him. it turned into the kind of love that would have me on the verge of moving on but there's always this thin thread around my finger that tied me to him. i could sever it easily with a simple tug but my heart has never allowed it. it turned into the kind of love that has me yearning to speak to him now, but the part that holds me back is the fact that he has already moved on, long before me, i sound so pathetic, and i hate it. it turned into the kind of love that made me dream happy dreams, but i would wake up crying because he was in my dreams, but no longer in my reality.

[orangfrckls]

the sea and me

We live in the tropics, the land of perpetual summers. The sun is never gone. But on rare days, with strong winds, the air is cold, almost crispy. I often get an odd craving to bite it. As a kid, I went to the beach with my family in December. I remember it being a particularly grey morning. I dreaded entering the water. I walked towards it and watched my cousins shriek as they jumped and splashed and spat out the water that tried to make itself at home in their mouths. I saw the foamy, silty water wash up towards me, took a few steps back and didn't let it kiss my feet. I watched as bubbles rushed out from the sand. When the water went back to its mother, tiny crabs popped out and rushed around, filled with purpose. I walked towards the water now. The wave took its sweet time to come back again. The water came in all the way up to my knees. I waited for the cold, but I was greeted with warmth. The sea pulled me in again, and I let it. It was like a giant wet hug, and I sat down till the water reached my neck. I sat there for a long time.

[orangfrckls]

These old pages.

She was a writer, but she was never consistent. She only wrote at the height of her emotions. When they soared like a giant colorful kite in a wonderfully stormy sky, on the verge of being torn to shreds. She didn't write in just one book either. She wrote on anything, where it was physically possible and socially acceptable to write. And then she forgot about their existence until she happened upon them again while ransacking her desk in search of something she'd lost. She greeted them in the same sense one greets people they'd forgotten the names of. Familiar yet a stranger, for she knew it was her handwriting, but she didn't remember the girl who wrote them. She found pieces of cardboard with angry teen scribbles, screaming that she hated her mother or found rough drafts of the first chapters of a book about the usual oc with a traumatic back story. The pages kicked her back in time into a small box made from the past. She remembered the crying and the hilarious attempts of punching walls in anger. She writes again below the cardboard words about how much she loves her mom. Then adds a few more chapters to her book, but this time, she is kinder to the characters. I learnt so much from how she wrote and how much it had changed. If only my younger self knew that now I read these old pages and laugh at how shitty my self-proclaimed pick-me grammar used to be.

[orangfrckls]

How I wonder

What would it be like if God was a woman.

Would the men be payed less and expected to serve the wife?

Would women have led armies and be the cause of all strife?

Would mothers have been recorded in the book of our ancestors?

Would the church exchange the duties of it's nuns and it's pastors?

Would women be as blind to men and their struggle?

Would it be shameful for men to grow a stubble?

Would a woman sit on the throne in the Vatican.

How I wonder, what it would be like if God was a woman.

~Tos

[orangfrckls]

s

I still remember the first time I saw her,

the girl who was already engaged to another .

Her beauty put a smile on the face of a proud god,

her soul the perfect muse for any of the great poets.

A delicately complex thing she was.

Softer than the young pomegranate flowers in my garden,

and equally as sharp as the thorns that protect it.

Her eyes held a reflection of myself that I never despised.

How she brushes the dust off of parts of myself that I forgot.

And how she creates new ones like beautiful origami.

one by one I store them all,

in a box that only she can see.

I'm her box of Origami.

~Tos

[orangfrckls]

lost motivation

my joy in art, where have you been? my love for music, where did you go? the dogs in my mind, how long must you stay? when will life embrace me again? i miss her passionate kiss. ~Tos

[orangfrckls]

My window, on the train

Happiness was watching the water that sparkled in the rice paddies. It was watching the waltz of dragonflies, how they dazzled in the golden sunshine like fireflies of the day. When raindrops kissed me as gentle as snowflakes or the sound of thunder, in the giant, hungry sky belly.

~Tos