sorynwrites

[sorynwrites]

#Repost @gogreensavegreen

You might be more than one. You might be different ones at different times. 🫶🏽🫶🏽 you might not be one of these. There are more roles 💪🏽 but this is an amazing intro.

You can’t just like the idea and envision yourself in one of these roles you have to figure out how to be about it ♥️🫶🏽

Via @deiloh & @fablefulart

[sorynwrites]

In my head, we do everything right

Interview in a Tea Shop, August 1970 "...I had told her that it was ungodly. I wanted her to understand that if she continued to pursue her love, then she would be hurt. That the world is cruel to girls who love fiercely, and more so to girls who love men less. She had looked up then, eyes glimmering and defiant, bags in one hand. Said, "I understand.", then left. It took a long time for me to realise that the first one to hurt her, was me. And whatever she believed then, I wish I understood too." My love, had I known better, where would we be now?

~ Excerpts from my drafts (queer love, long unrequited)

[sorynwrites]

Hysteria

I am writing to you here because no one believes me when I say there is a monster within me. I am writing now, despite the pinpricks of teeth on my skin, and the foreboding jaws that slowly open down my bleeding palms, pain imminent, to beg you to hear my story. Because, I have learned, that a woman's voice can only speak falsehoods and stories, and cries lose their meaning when the tears never stop. I must have been 10 when I first saw the monster. Sharp claws, and coiling limbs that threatened to choke. A reckoning, or maybe a premonition. I cried out, legs kicking, and she burst in, eyes fearful. I touched the monster's scales that she couldn't see and wept as she held me, said "It hurts." Her hands were cold and she whispered back, said hush now, my daughter. another gentle caress. This is what it means to be a woman.

That time in school, the monster clawed at my belly, long fangs and cloying venom biting viscerally. I reached out, asked if I could leave, said "it hurts." my teacher, eyes bored, told me to wait. For what? One waits for the rain to stop, or the lesson to end. How does one wait, when the pain demands to be felt? I could not focus in class that day, but I learned then, that for some, to wait was to endure. Because, I have learned, that even subtle differences between the shape of a word, or the sound of a verb, changes how you are seen.I remember then, how my hands shook, and my ears rang, and the monster whispered, said, This is what it means to be a woman, before the world spun sideways, and my body limped forward, faint.

At the doctor’s, after I cried at my mother’s feet because I couldn’t stand straight. Said Maa, I may be a woman, but the monster is real. The doctor, quiet if well-meaning, checked my sinuses, my lungs. The rabbiting of my heart and the tremble of my fingers. Said She’s just young and anxious. Told me to sleep well and eat healthy. But how does one rest, when the monster stares through the night? How can I bring myself to eat through the nausea, as the monster swallows me whole? I told her the doctor was wrong. That there was more to it than she could see. So we booked a blood test. Then a urine test and a stool test and a hundred more tests that screamed She’s fine, this is just what it means to be a woman.

The next time I cried, sheets wrapped around my feverish body, monster biting at my throat, my mother frowned at me, said there’s nothing wrong with you. Then booked me to a psychologist, because my mother was tired of me, and the doctors were tired of me, and I was tired of the monster that they couldn’t see. The psychologist sighed prescribed another SSRI.

Because, I have learned, that I am a woman, which means that even if the world tells me I am wrong, the problem is that I will not hear it.

[sorynwrites]

Yeah guys I draw too >:))

Find me on insta @chugdraws 🤭

[sorynwrites]

I try so hard to be a good daughter. But how do I reconcile my anger and guilt? who am I angry at? what am I guilty of? Whenever I look at you I think of what you could've been, had it not been for me. PhDs, family, mother tongues splitting wide smiles. a wild life led to wrinkled skin and weary eyes from days under the sun or some rich man's heel, so these small hands can hold yours tighter. There is so much anger in us, but I will bear it for your sacrifice, for how could any burden be heavier than the ones you carried on your back, in your womb, when we were too young to understand the weight of your love? But now I see it balanced precariously on a scale, and I pray every day that your sacrifices, anger, and exhaustion do not outweigh it. Please love me, despite everything. And how hard it is to bear; Every time your bitterness makes me remind myself why I love you, I think I love you a little less. I hate that in the moments between all the things we do not say, and the ones we hear instead, you make me forget your love. I hate that you make me forget my dreams, and my vow to give it all up, that everything I am is yours, just so I can see you happy. 

Oh.

Maybe, I'm just guilty of being you. 

[sorynwrites]

My god spoke to me through molten eyes and bloody teeth

whispered, "it was for you, for you, all for you"

i clutched the pain that demanded to be felt

begging it to silence (the screaming never stops)

my life, warm and sticky

ran in rivulets down open, callused palms

we danced in circles under dim lights

spinning toward a perfect death

my god reminded me i was real, real, real

are you real? are we here? why?

I begged you to tell me (the silence was so loud)

you kissed me under soft nights and cold rain

your hands cradling mine

so warm, warm, warm

the radio skips and our footsteps slow

blurred edges and bohemian smiles

memories slip through my open wounds

seeping into the end of the world

where i loved, i was loved, oh how I love

this little life

for me, for me, all for me

[sorynwrites]

Strike for Palestine

Hi guys! In honor of the global strike for Palestine, I will be donating $100 + $0.10 for the first 1,000 reblogs this post gets to Care for Gaza until February 2.

This means I will be donating $100, but each reblog is worth an extra 10 cents!

If you do not have the finances to donate, you can reblog this as many times as you want, and I will donate for you -- so please continue to spread awareness!

Don't forget to get your clicks in:

And here's an extremely long list of ways to donate, petitions, and campaigns:

I will raise the rate or count likes if it falls well under the goal, so anything counts. 💖

[sorynwrites]

no because it's so poignant, the way the greatest minds are never quite stable. like that one bible quote, "for in much wisdom there is much sorrow, and whoever increases knowledge increases grief" and the unbearable heaviness of being that's explored in Zapffe's "The Last Messiah" i love the idea of poets going mad and well-meaning politicians going corrupt and geniuses being isolated in their lofty ideals and wisdom, like nothing is more damning than understanding so deeply that you alone can bear it and perhaps it's even exacerbated in the case of alhaitham and kaveh, both equally brilliant and so intrinsically antithetical that despite their genius, they can never understand the other and in doing so are reminders of their ever-existing grief and loneliness, perched as they are on their respective pedestals but while in alhaitham's objectivity and a near misanthropic apathy he has learned to accept this, kaveh's endless self-doubt and love do not allow him to resign himself to his reality which is why, despite alhaitham being an incredible character in his own right, I am so moved by kaveh and his extremes. i love kaveh so much

[sorynwrites]

OH MY GOD HELLO??? i love this poetry so much I want it to seep into my soul slowly like honey and tea

"You search your bleeding palm, but the needle has slipped away,

And there’s no mistake it exists."

you convey the futility of searching for something lost so well I love your writing thank you for tagging me in this <33 sorry I just saw it

needle hunting

You’ve heard it before.

“Like looking for a needle in a haystack!”

It would be a thankless, tiring job, I think.

I don’t want to look for the needle in the haystack,

Don’t want to sort the straw into piles,

Don’t want the dust and dirt all over me.

I don’t want to plunge my hand into the flaxen pile,

Don’t want to feel the raw edges of dry grass scrape against my hands,

Don’t want to push the heap over and make a mess.

Sure, to find the needle would be a welcome stroke of luck,

A glint of silver in the dull hay.

But isn’t it stupid?

To search blindly for such a small, replaceable object in such an unlikely place?

I can only imagine how such a search would end.

You’ve either overlooked the needle, or your hand is bleeding slowly into the mess you’ve plunged your hand into,

Dust and silver stuck to your hand,

The needle ripping your skin open further as you draw back quickly from the sharp pain of the spike.

You search your bleeding palm, but the needle has slipped away,

And there’s no mistake it exists.

Take a deep breath and wrap your hands, dig them into the heap-

There is no easy way to do this.

@sorynwrites @waitingforthesunrise hi hello

[sorynwrites]

i didn't know you could romanticise physics but sluggo made me fall to the floor with this poem it's so soft <3

I told you about string theory

as a long way to tell you

how you pluck

between each one for me

and vibrate in the very act of existing

and I love you in perhaps eight dimensions

[sorynwrites]

man I love warm poetry

brown eyes

Mine eyes be not of soil

yours have walked the earth

my years have not been savored

but flavored by your birth

the time here I have dawdled

my mudded apprehension

bewitched by your

budding carnation

for even in your garden

where grows mostly herbs

the soil takes the form

of your eyes

and a hearth

[sorynwrites]

Oh, Blessèd be the sinners who cry wolf Their sharp teeth glinting Sheep fat and brains Gleaming on their gilded plates Their bellies full of ash and blood Curved claws reach out to move another pawn And wipe away false tears While stars fall under caged skies And the chants ring against the iron of the earth This world divided by human ideals And the laws of "God" Governed by monsters And played for fools Indeed, When the sinners howl Their echoes lie They damned themselves, The creatures cry I killed a babe, But she hurt us first How dare her wails Belie her thirst Deafen the sound of our cursèd "peace" And the whispers of black gold That flow under the rubble? These olive branches hold no justice For the innocent dreamers Whose tears and faith nourish the stolen land Upon which they sleep Whose crime was simply existing A fatal sin indeed, the Hypocrites cry When the cameras roll They choke on their sobs And the blood, and the brains Indeed, There is no rest for the wicked The world does not pray for the damned But they are healthy, safe, and fed The wolves feast on the sheep As the children die And their mothers weep And the martyrs fight for a sky Where the stars twinkle High amidst the Heavens Free from wolves and sinners Where the children can look up To a tomorrow without tears

[sorynwrites]

brown eyes. brown pupils. brown abyss. dryland, a mock mirage; stabbed with trees with no children, and florals that seduce but smell of naught all tucked in with quicksand. and i've got sweaty hands. so i fall. and fall, i do. in honey-glazed void i feel warm as the sun shares to me his qualms. this is nice but honey sticks like nail glue that rots pancreas that webs across my throat with no room for air. so i turn, twist fall (once again) now I open my eyes with lingering bruises on my windpipe and- a cup of cold mocha? where am i? i look up, and oh- i'm back on the first line.

[sorynwrites]

hello!! .⭑✧˖°.⊹ ࣪ ˖☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

hey guys!! it's nice to see you here :) I'm soryn (she/her) and I love poetry, books, art, and manga among other things I'm new to tumblr and mildly insane about philosophy, religious symbolism, and gothic horror but also froth at the mouth over genshin and HSR lore so if you like any of these things or just here for vibes then drop by my inbox and we can be friends! currently reading/watching: Dracula, Alien Stage, ORV (again!)

I'm always looking for something to consume so if you have any recs feel free to share!!

Thank you for visiting my page :) - soryn ☆*: .｡. ◌ .｡.:*☆

[sorynwrites]

O God, Sometimes I have vivid, grotesque dreams Of taking a gilded dagger to my skull, Carving into the crevices of my doubt Bone fragmented, stitched together with sin I hungrily devour my own flesh Blood, brain, sinew, all And I look up to watch my reflection Twist obscenely, muscle warping into itself Again, and again A roiling mass of snakes Before shifting into a creature Familiar and foreign A stranger wearing the mask Of a face I knew intimately A smudged painting, ghost captured in film Screams echo from a distant nightmare Before an egg cracks Yolk bleeding into white, broken by its shell Protective by design, destructive by nature The creature smiles when my eyes open And prayers spill from my upturned lips Gasping for a reality That is whole, that is real Oh God.

[sorynwrites]

It is difficult to acknowledge that I am a little like my father. His love is akin to that of the sea on shore; ebbing to and away from the sand, the distance between land and water never close enough to meet beyond short, shallow moments. Our longest conversations are fights and lectures that end in tears. He brews me warm herbal tea when I am sick. He doesn’t know that my favourite colour is the vivid orange of dawn, or that it’s because it reminds me of praying by his side. When I enjoy something, he buys ten more the next day. He hasn’t held my hand since I was eight. He brags about me to his friends when he thinks no one is listening, praising me in a way that has never been directed to me. He doesn’t say “I love you”. This is what it means to receive love from a parent who doesn’t know how to give it. This is how I convey my own. Perfectly cut fruit, an extra spoon, Yes I Will Help You With Your Homework Even Though It’s 12 AM. I cannot bring myself to tell you how much you mean to me. Do you want to watch a movie together? I’m sorry I’m so distant. I will do anything I am capable of for you. This love may not be deep enough to drown in, but I promise its waters will always return to your shore. I know it’s not enough.