A capable polyhistor, Layali Grimshaw is a recluse with a brain full of varied and vast ideas. Her imagination knows no bounds where storytelling is concerned. She fills her days with books, otherworldly shows, and movies. Through her stories, you are sure to find comfort, laughter, and above all, a wild ride through her ever-expanding ingenuity.
You still curious? Haven’t scared you off yet? Oh, good! Here’s to another trip down memory lane. To be honest, posting them kind of stings. Of course, these days, I avoid humans altogether – apart from a select few. And I’ve learned to tell when I’m being BS’ed. Most times I’m right. It’s gotten a lot easier to distinguish the fakes.
Anywhere, here you go:
Everything is so fierce, so cold, so abandoned, Why is life so wicked? Why are you all gone? WHY??
All those years, All this time, All those moments, did everything together and now, no longer…. Why are you all gone? Why can’t we ever meet again?
No way to see you guys again, lost forever, no way to laugh again. Why are you gone? Why did you leave me alone? Why doesn’t anyone see the truth? Why doesn’t anyone see me falling, shouting in agony, why…?
Everything is so fierce, so cold, so abandoned, Why is life so wicked? Why are you all gone? WHY??
People see what they want to see People see me as a freak, Why don’t they see the truth? Why don’t they hear the pain? Why don’t they see the wounds, the scars? WHY?
Close your eyes, live in an illusion, block the things you don’t want to see, is that what people are taught? Then why were you all so different? Why am I so different? Why are you gone? Why is it left, just it….?
Everything is so fierce, so cold, so abandoned, Why is life so wicked? Why are you all gone? WHY??
Hope you’re doing good! New Year’s resolutions still going strong, or did already throws those out?
And now, with considerably less fanfare, I present to you the next stop in Teen Wackoville:
So much time has passed So much has happened So many people have come, brought joy and pain, happiness and anger. Yet I’m alive, but will it end???? I don’t know….
Time to think Time to feel Time to trust Will I get hurt again? Will I be happy again?? I don’t know……
When will it be? When will it end? When will life give it all a chance? Will it happen? I don’t know, for I don’t get an answer…..
Time to think Time to feel Time to trust Will I get hurt again? Will I be happy again?? I don’t know……
The change of light and darkness. The flow of time passes by…..untouched. The feelings stay no matter how long it takes or how far we are. Caught in the shyness of life, unable to tell each other what is wrong laughing, talking, joking with each other, but crying on the inside, for the stupidity eats us.
Time to think Time to feel Time to trust Will I get hurt again? Will I be happy again?? I don’t know……
Another day in January, another poem from the ancient days of my madness. I’m not going to go into detail on the rest. At least not too much, since most of them consist of me wallowing in self-pity and wonder why the fuck people enjoy stabbing me in the back so damn much.
All are gone I’m alone in the fog left behind, abandoned Then I hear your voice, calling me in the dark Is it true, or just an illusion?
Held back by a voice, A feeling I thought no longer existed The touch of your hand, The look of you, The warmth of your words. Why did you stay? All others are gone.
Don’t know what to say, Don’t know how to react, Don’t know what to think, Didn’t think someone would stay to get me, give me the support I need.
All are gone I’m alone in the fog left behind, abandoned Then I hear your voice, calling me in the dark Is it true, or just an illusion?
All these years have passed Noone left to hold me, to save me…..except you. Is it true or just an illusion? What will happen to you…. If I do what I came for??? If I die…..
To pick up where we left off yesterday, I thought I’d explain why the school put me on suicide watch. Like I said in my first post, I didn’t hide my writing and showed it to teachers. And when writing in a ‘foreign’ language, it makes sense to go to the teacher of that subject who knows you most, right? Wrong! Not only did she tell on me to the principal and call me suicidal, but she also said it was terrible writing (fair enough). But she didn’t stop there! A few days before I gave it her we got our grades for the oral portion of that quarter, and I got an A, after showing her the poem, I never got better than a C.
What could possibly be that bad?
Time is an illusion, Faith is just a word, Fate a way of life, Life just temporary, Matters not important, Feelings just a way to waste the illusion, Right or wrong just ways to live, Hope does not exist, Born into darkness, dying in darkness,
The lonely wanderer tries to find a way into light by the feeling called love, But yet stays lonely in the darkness behind….. Weak Abandoned Hurt……
There is NO way out, For there is NO way in….. It just happens, unexpected and has no meaning, Because all that happens on earth is temporary and therefore of no matter.
Time is an illusion, Faith is just a word, Fate a way of life, Life just temporary, Matters not important, Feelings just a way to waste the illusion, Right or wrong just ways to live, Hope does not exist, Born into darkness, dying in darkness,
There is NO way out…. Caught in the darkness of life…… Til you die………!!
This, apparently! Oddly enough, I showed it to two other teachers after that. Both not only praised but encouraged me to keep going. Hell, they’d even come and ask me about it if I went a few weeks without showing them something!
On today’s menu is a little number that’s caused me immeasurable delight ever since I penned it. Mainly because what I ended up using it for still has me in stitches to this day!
Picture this:
I’m sitting in biology with my partner in crime, that particular was weird, to be honest. I’d gotten an iPod and brought it with me. We were sitting in class and given an assignment. Both of for some reason couldn’t process a word written on the paper. I get a nudge under the table, and she whispers to me to pull out my new toy.
Sure, why not? I do. We each take an earbud, press play, and… magic. Suddenly the glyphs on the paper transform into words causing us to start writing like mad. And yes, the teacher saw us, but let it slip since we were working.
Anyway, after that was done, something clicked in my weird-ass brain. Maybe it was the band we had on. Maybe it was the topic in class; I can’t for the life of me put my finger on it. Whatever it was opened the floodgates and I started scribbling away. Five minutes later, I had a page full of words, not biology-related in the slightest.
Normal is the word, that brings the darkness Normal is the word everyone uses Normal is the word no one knows the definition of Normal is the norm everyone holds on to Normal is the way life should be, but NOTHING in life really is.
I have a broken personality I am what everyone calls abnormal I am the way no one wants to be I am a dead soul, torn into pieces by the ones who call themselves normal….
Broken so many times by life itself Made a mask of feelings, that are long lost Called a freak by others, just ’cause of the way I show what I can’t feel anymore hope….love….happiness no longer part of me. Sadness, death, darkness is all that is left.
Normal is the word, that brings the darkness Normal is the word everyone uses Normal is the word none knows the definition Normal is the norm everyone holds on to Normal is the way life should be, but NOTHING in life really is.
Normal is a word Life a metaphor death a relief, always part of life why can’t i be part of death? Nothing left to lose Soul and hope were lost…..long ago!
The funny thing is: a few days later, someone knocks on the door at home. The woman tells my mother the school recommended I see a shrink since they suspect I have suicidal tendencies…
Soooo, off to the shrink we go. Thus begins the mindnumbing interrogation. At some point, the guy tells me it’s not normal to write what I do. See where this is going? So, my smug 18-year-old self is triggered, I smell blood and go right for the kill. Lean back, look him in the eye and quote:
Normal is the word, that brings the darkness Normal is the word everyone uses Normal is the word no one knows the definition of Normal is the norm everyone holds on to Normal is the way life should be, but NOTHING in life really is.
His eyes bug out, his jaw drops, and he goes: that’s what I studied. I snort and reply I didn’t need to study to figure that out. He tells me to wait outside to talk to mum alone. On the way home, she tells me he said I had built a wall around myself, refusing to let people in, but that I had the IQ of a 24-year-old.
After tearing off the bandaid yesterday, I might as well tear off another one. Though, in fairness, this one’s healed up pretty good. In fact, the event inspiring this poem set off an eye-opening snowball effect.
Here goes:
Betrayed me the moment you had the chance to.. never to turn back to me…. Am I the only one looking back? Need I forget the past?
How could it come this far… was all just a lie… All those years of friendship, trust, fun and love?
Do you ever look back and regret? Or was it all just a was of time for you?….
All these years wasted…yet seems did not pass, seem to still be the same, though both have changed so much. Afraid it could break all in a moment, as so much in life does…
The time we had the things we did, Do you remember the fun we had? The things we went through, the scoldings from the teachers. The punishments we had to endure..?
The running we had…the blood that was spilt … The times ended too sudden, 10 years were lost… Yet never a day passed I didn’t think of the past. Think of the days we spent together…
All these years wasted…yet seems did not pass, seem to still be the same, though both have changed so much. Afraid it could break all in a moment, as so much in life does…
Can it be true… Things just go through Time passes Leaves its marks And yet.
This is one of the few where I couldn’t write after it happened but had to let a little time slip by. Last one was about friends. Now we’re a lot closer to home, literally. I have two cousins I did most everything with since were kids whenever we were together. Playing video games, sports, playing pranks, reading stories in phony accents, running off to the mall. You name it, and we did it.
To me, they were more like sisters. Well… fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…
Everything started to unravel because I refused to play … let’s call it matchmaker. After going off to university, the elder of the two took to calling me every day. Mind you; she was in a different country! She’d talk for something like two hours, every day asking me the same questions over and over and over. And no, it wasn’t about me or how I was doing. It was always about my – then – boyfriend and what we were doing. During one of set calls, she asked me to hop a plane during the upcoming holidays to help her get a boyfriend.
I declined and sited the following reasons:
Me giving her a push would do nothing if she didn’t have the courage to do it herself
It wasn’t exactly going to make a good impression on the guy if I sat there yapping away and she just fumbled.
I wasn’t going to get in trouble with her parents if word got out I helped.
Next thing I know, I get ignored by everyone in the family. Turns out, little miss told everyone I was whoring around to cover her own ass.
Needless to say, there was no point in the black sheep trying to set the record straight.
Hope you all made it safely into the new year, survive the holiday dramas and are able to stick to those resolutions! Here’s hoping I do…
So, a few weeks ago, I had a crazy idea. Yes, one of many. (Diana… ssshhhh)
As those that follow my madness, boring as it is, know I used to write poems back in school. Like a lot of teens resorting to that particular medium, they were pretty dark. Unlike most, I didn’t hide them. I actually showed them to my mum and a few teachers in the hopes of having them proofread.
Getting to the point, back then, I chickened out at having them published in a book. (There was a contest, and the best would be released as well as win something like 500 Euro, or so, I don’t remember exactly.)
That said, the idea I had was to start the new year off by remedying that lapse in judgment (or so it’s been dubbed) and post one of them each day (for a week) with the backstory to how it came to paper.
Let’s dive right in, shall we?
No where to go, No where to stay, No where to heal, No where to hide, No where to find IT again.
Gone for all times, Left behind in the dark, Turned into a mask by the pain, Gathered in me all these years, Thinking about death each day, Yet, know what it means – not ready for it.
Times change, but the pain doesn’t, Times change, but the people who cause pain don’t…
Pain is part of life, But why does it change people so much? Why do I change more an’ more without The possibility to do something against it…? Why, why does life hurt so much?
Never wanted to go this far, Yet forced to, See what will happen, when I change my ways – My ways of living this fucking life, Be happy with your damn result! ’cause I’m not!
Times change, but the pain doesn’t, Times change, but the people who cause pain don’t…
This little number is from October ’07. And to be honest, it still hurts. This one cut deep because the situation leading up to it blindsided me. That day had been pretty standard. Wake up, jump in the shower, let the dog out after getting dressed. Run to the bus stop. Survive the school day, come home and jump on ICQ to catch up with my bestie before drowning in homework. Or so I thought, anyway.
A few months earlier, on my birthday, my bestie and two other friends were all excited about becoming cheerleaders. Little did I know that was the beginning of the end. We’d make plans, and I’d take the train down to meet them, wait for hours without a word from either. Rinse and repeat a few times. Until that fateful day where my greeting was met with the words: You know, you’re nothing more than a distant acquaintance.
Eight years of doing everything together: poof. Over what? Getting to put on miniskirts and prance in front of guys while holding pompoms.
A few months later I ran into the youngest of our former group. She bumped into me, looked back at me and stared right through me like I wasn’t even there.
Why did I choose Alice’s bunny? Well, because I have another – ulterior – motive. The truth is: Xmas isn’t really my thing. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I did anything remotely festive this time of year. *Runs to hide behind the couch*
I know, I know. But I promise I’m not a Scrooge. Not on purpose anyway…
That said, I do adore the movies. Can you guess my favorites?
Hint #1Hint #2
I’ve got a confession to make!
I’m starting the new year off with something special. Something extremely hard – for me – but I figured it was best to dive headfirst into the: putting-myself-out-there pool. Just swan-dive. No second-guessing, no over-thinking.
What’s in store for you guys? Well, if you check in every day, over the first week of January, I’ll be posting some oldies of mine, with a little history attached.
If you’re the curious type, then pop in whenever you feel the urge!
Until then: enjoy the lights, the food, Santa’s treats, and most of all – time with those you love!
As the title suggests, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stupidity over the last two weeks, give or take. And to boot got some extra bad news today. So, I’m sorry for the radio silence, but you know how it is. You can’t plan for life sucker-punching you.
Like that!
Anyway, enough with the sob stories. I thought I’d post today to bitch a little.
Here’s the thing: you know that old stereotype about writers and their furry babies? Well, I’m here to tell you it’s true. However, in my case, it’s a blessing and a curse. See, I have two. A sweet, three-year-old, female cat and a big, fat, loudmouthed – about five-year-old – male cat.
My girl loved to hunt anything smaller than her, with or without wings, which is a blessing really since the loudmouth is usually the one showing them the way into the house…
The same goes for letting me do my thing. When they see me sit down to write, he’s got nothing but complaints, while she’ll curl up next to me for snuggles. This means making progress in writing depends on who’s next to me at the time and in what mood they are in. Because if little miss is running around hunting while mister I-need-Liposuction is snoozing it might equate to cuter chaos, but chaos all the same!
Something like so.And then there’s this.
That said, I just started a new short, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment… It’ll be a little foreshadowing of what leads to book 4 of my series. Here’s hoping I can finish it before the New Year!
All right, I’ve rambled enough. While I gave up on the holiday drama a long time ago, I hope you guys have been able to stay sane and manage to hold onto that sanity through the festive craze!
