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Life is strange

by illy7896


Most of the time, we don’t know what to say to each other. Or we do, but putting things into context is like trying to explain a math equation when you don’t understand the hows or the whys.

I didn’t know what to say when my dad had brung home a crab he had caught from the open sea. It sat in a little container barely bigger enough for its own good overnight, lying in the bathtub. And the next day, when he put the assumingly dead body of it in the ocean by the seafront, I wanted to ask him what was wrong. As he stood there, a silhouette of grief mourning over a friend found and then lost, I wanted to say that it was okay. I wanted to tell him that I loved the crab too, though I was somewhat annoyed by its randomised presence and its inhabitation of the bathtub. I wanted to tell him that sometimes I too felt like bringing home the earth with me and putting it in a little jar where I could see it grow, clearly.

I didn’t know what to say when my great gran died on my 13th birthday. I was angry, not because she died, but because I woke up to grief, tears and I was ignored, standing there in the doorway looking like a butterfly in a cluster of cacoons.

Or when my gran’s dog passed, or when I moved away from my home, my friends, my family. When I had to witness a war between the two people I loved the most and expected to be the most violent of them all. Only to silently nod and wave goodbye. Tears like gumdrops that drip down like when you put too much cash into the penny machine and a murder of gifts comes crashing through the slot. Colourful, bubbly, sour, sweet, sugary gifts, that made me wince when I swallowed too hard or too fast.

But for the first time, I knew what to say. I knew how to feel, how to be, how to act. A long-delayed typhoon of hate- indulging in the emptiness of my Sahara mind. I knew the words that stroked my tongue and weaved them into emotions that only used to mime the plays of grief. No longer are those feelings clad in leather and black and white and drenched in make-up to hide the blemishes of a heart gone serpentine. A ballerina that ashames her white dress, hides and prances behind the lady of the lake. Mimics her moves and does not realise that she replays that angelic scene too many times to trip up. And that if only she took the spotlight instead of the shadows where falling is seen by no one, she could see that she too is the angel of dust.

And I knew how to speak. I knew what to say. How to explain an equation in which numbers rival against each other. How to dance on a stage where I am the one who makes the mistakes. Finally, I knew how to shed those tears. And those typhoons destroyed and are still whipping away the settlements that I had built to call a home. They sunk their teeth into a prophetic world because the shark bites dug too far in. And yet again another limb is torn away and like a lizard’s tail, I will grow back up again. So that one day, that world, those smiles, those hearts, those friends and those memories, won’t be fake, a silicone sheet of replacement. Plastic cartridges can only last up to three million decades and a soul that never stops beating is as quadruple as long, and there can never be a price on something that can never have a name. 

Life truly is the strangest thing. Really strange :/


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Sat Jun 19, 2021 1:47 pm
MailicedeNamedy wrote a review...



Hi illy7896,

Mailice here with a short review! :D

This was a very emotional and touching piece of writing. I liked how you try to deal with life here, and how you manage to find such beautiful words and metaphors for so many different levels of feelings.

I like how the text feels like a climb up a mountain, where the steeper it gets the harder it gets, and how you come to a conclusion at the end that feels like a silent cry after such a long life filled with grief and pain. You write it through your many words like a painting. It makes for a bleak yet thoughtful picture that the reader can look at and not forget.

From the perspective of the content, you did a great job of making connections and making it feel like a story. When I read the title and the first paragraph, I wasn't ready for it to fall into such a mood.

I really enjoyed what you wrote. How the individual paragraphs correlate with each other, resulting in a summary. How the person, after the long silence finally decides to speak because they can... I just like how you manage to create so much meaning in such a short text.

A couple of times I noticed that you have some grammar mistakes. I think you can get rid of those quickly if you give them a quick read over after you've finished writing. They didn't really disturb the flow of reading, but some of them caught my eye (like "had brung").

Other points I noticed while reading:

I wanted to tell him that sometimes I too felt like bringing home the earth with me and putting it in a little jar where I could see it grow, clearly.

I think there are dozens of sentences I like in your story, this one is definitely one of my favourites. I like how naïve and childlike this thought seems, and yet how wonderful it seems when you think about it. And yet there is something so sad about it, this sentence, because it seems as if you also want to express that one can only grow in captivity.

I was angry, not because she died, but because I woke up to grief, tears and I was ignored, standing there in the doorway looking like a butterfly in a cluster of cacoons.

I like your description here. It's really fabulous! I like the metaphor of the butterfly "regressing" a bit which is well chosen for the point here.

or when I moved away from my home, my friends, my family.

That's a great progression you're presenting here! I also like how between the "my home" and "my family" is the "my friends", which gives the text an interesting meaning here.

Colourful, bubbly, sour, sweet, sugary gifts, that made me wince when I swallowed too hard or too fast.

Again, such a great, emotive description. I think you've done a really fantastic job of expressing yourself here in the lyrics! :D

indulging in the emptiness of my Sahara mind.

I like this whole section very much. This point here is probably just a little highlight, but the sentence, how it starts, turned out very great. You can relate to it, how after all the silence, the hatred comes out, and how you describe that in this section, like an avalanche is coming down, burying everything that has happened.

I like how you only have one short paragraph at the end, as opposed to the previous ones, and how the ending ends with a smiley face, as if to show that the voice has dried up again.

You have written a wonderful, artistic text. Life is strange, indeed.

Have fun writing!

Mailice.




illy7896 says...


Omg thank you so much for this thorough review and I am really pleased that you enjoyed it <3333



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Wed Jun 16, 2021 2:13 am
ArctiWolf wrote a review...



I want to write a review, but I'm not sure if I will be able to write enough words for that. It's a moving piece and I enjoyed it. All you need is to do a little, and I mean a little, grammar checking and you'll be set. Frankly you only need it towards the beginning, you make the most mistakes when you aren't completely focused on your task yet. So, yeah, good job and keep writing.




illy7896 says...


Thanks so much, and I completely agree!



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Wed Jun 16, 2021 1:40 am
TheWarriorMingan wrote a review...



Hi, Illy!

I really enjoyed this piece. The words were woven so artistically. Here are my thoughts:

Okay, the second paragraph was a bit slow, though. The sixth paragraph was definitely my favorite, with the part about the ballerina in the fifth paragraph being my second favorite.

The seventh paragraph might be better if you ended it with a period (.) or a hyphen (-) instead of what I think is an emoji.

Tears like gumdrops that drip down like when you put too much cash into the penny machine and a murder of gifts comes crashing through the slot.

Here, instead of the word 'drip' maybe you could use 'drop' or 'fall'. I know that teardrops "drip", but gumdrops don't.

Also, my great-grandmother died when I was young, and that's how I felt.

Overall, I like this piece, it's very emotional, and it conveys a sense of, well, life!

-Sincerely, Mingan

Follow your heart, and nothing can go wrong. (concerning writing)




illy7896 says...


Aww you are so sweet and I'm so glad that this poem could reach to you. I'll definitely improve my writing with your feedback, thanks.




The snow leopard is absolutely magnificent. It represents really what endangered species are all about.
— Jack Hanna