no angels.

[Adrienna Lynint]

Welcome. I've had many scrapbooks before, but they belong to retired characters and forgotten names I'd rather walk over. You may know me as Ehati, Tia'aria, Sphinx, Quiarinox, Annabella... or just Adrienna. I would prefer to be called Anna, however, or if there are too many Anna's in your life, I will also answer to Bella. As always, I've no idea what to actually put in one of these things, but I guess I'll let you guys see a little more things that I like. Some poetry, some music videos (I have a great love for Bastille, Lydia, Avicii, and In This Moment that will probably be demonstrated the further you read). So, yeah! Welcome! Trivia. > Annabella > Female > Canadian > Notably slow poster > Elusive > Sometimes very opinionated > Maybe a beaver in disguise > Great fan of Megatron

[Yra]

I have a great love of music, particularly that which includes cellos, violins, and massive orchestral pieces. I am immensely fond of the Piano Guys and Lindsey Stirling, and so decided to share a piece the three of them did together. Ugh. Gorgeous.

[Yra]

[Traverse]

Teehee I love Stonehenge, and basically all songs by Ylvis, they are hilarious, also love Lindsey Stirling!

I figured I shouldn't just stop by to gush over your musical choices but also include one I like too, so here, hope you enjoy! I just love that this is a miley cyrus song sung by a bunch of dudes, and they make this song sound awesome.

[Yra]

Thank you so much for sharing! I can't begin to explain how much I enjoyed that! Here is another cover of a Miley Cyrus song, one of the few songs that bothers me in a way that is not negative (per se), which is sort of to be expected of it. If that makes any sense at all. I can't begin to explain how much I enjoy a good cover of a good song. Traverse, I'd for sure like more of those guys. I got a good chuckle out of them there.

[Adrienna Lynint]

A bad friend is like an ingrown hair. I may write a personal thing here when I get home. Replies are owed on Ssafiracitlali and Adrienna.

[Yra]

You can't tourniquet the taint. I decided that a string of absences and dropped threads has finally warranted something of an actual explanation, rather than simply brushing questions aside with "I'm dealing with it". I decided to stick it in a spoiler. There was a lot in there. Lots of Words : Let's start with history, shall we? When I was fourteen, in my first year of highschool, I went through the beginning of a stage of my life I have not yet grown out yet, hereby referred to as an "existential crisis". I discovered that I did not know who I was, why I was here, or what I was meant to do/be/change. I suffered a lot. My only reprieve from self-doubt and loathing and the god awful questioning came in school. It came in staying an hour after in order to avoid going home and seeing that, no matter what I did or what I strove to be, it was still not enough for anyone there. When I was fourteen, I took a used needle collected in one of those little bins the firefighter use (my neighbourhood is shitty, therefore my mom arranged one with the fire department and a needle picker-upper thing), and I filled it with a household cleaner. I went to school and I put it in my arm, aiming to stick it into the blue lines that lead to my heart. Because I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I did not go through with it, but I succeeded in making myself sick. The needle was tainted with the cleaner and apparently I looked ghastly, as I remember my teacher in the period after I did it asking if I wanted to go home after taking attendance. Survived, though, as you can plainly see. I made it through highschool, managing to stuff my doubts and questions and yearning for understanding beneath fucking around on chatty websites and music classes. I wrote, too, but my family never supported that, and so writing at home was painful and required my hiding everything in increasingly creative locations. It's changed, now. I'm twenty-two. I can write as much as I damn well please. But I still question. I've been on Mizahar since May of 2012. I've taken a handful of leaves of varying times, and the last was the longest. I needed them, though. I will be the first to say it, and the one to apologise. I needed the reprieve. See, I stopped questioning. I had my questions, but I stopped asking them. I grew angry instead. I'm still angry, but it took months of time to realise that I did not have to let that affect me. Welcome to my world. That one line became the most loathed line of my entire existence. It is the gravest insult anyone has delivered to me. I prefer not to share things because that innocuous little sentence has done nothing but deny me the comfort that there are people out there supporting me. The noise grew unbearable. I don't believe I gave warning when I last left Mizahar, and I did not promise that I would return. I stuck a used needle in my arm, filled with a common household cleaner, and I survived. But I did not believe I could survive the utter anger I felt because of that one little sentence. I do not want pity. I do not want "I'm so sorry". I complain for only one reason: I look for advice. How do I deal with my headache? How do I deal with my vomiting? How do I not be angry? I'm a shitty friend. I'd say it was caused by this all, by anger and crises, and that might be true. I've not been shown the sympathy I've sought, that which is provided with advice rather than apologies. I do not sympathise. If you come to me, and you are distraught, I will apologise, because I will not be able to emotionally open and connect with you. Before I took my break, I would turn you away. I came back because now I can give what I wanted: if you come to me, and you are distraught, I will help you. I am a shitty friend because I will not emotionally connect with you, but I will stand here, or there with you, and I will help you through everything you need help through. So, maybe that's my crisis averted, eight years after it came down upon me. That needle is still here. I remember where I hid it when I came home. I don't remember much after that, but I assume I passed out somewhere. I don't know. I've not bothered retrieving it. Anyway. I rarely open up, guys. I will offer you little of what happens in my life. I will take what is given, and I will open eventually. Gradually. But if you seek answers, or help, or want to lay down what is bothering you, I do not turn you away. I will not say to you, "welcome to my world". I'm still angry, but I manage it now. I write, and the writing helps. My life is not shitty. I am rather... content. Angry, but content. Does that make sense? Can't tourniquet the taint, I know, but I'm here to stay, guys. This is my personal bit. I back out, now. I did not expect to wear on. I hope that I somehow managed to answer the questions, "where did you go?" and "are you okay?" If not, TL;DR: I went soul-searching and I found I did not have to be affected by my anger to the point where I cannot function... and I am okay. -A. If you read all that, or just want some cool jam, here's a thing. That bassist makes my life complete, I just can't even.

[Adrienna Lynint]

My love of Bastille is a real and dangerous thing. This video used to creep me out.

[Adrienna Lynint]

"You are my angel."

[Nyra]

Bastille is 10/10. Infact, there's a song called no angels.