Angle MoonShadow

I kinda agree, but then again, I don't.

Morning everyone, I just gave a speech over Dante's Inferno, And got an A! Super excited, but, I have to go now! See Ya! Fairy_Tail_OP1_-_Snow_Fairy_(Piano).mp4

Morning Everyone! Its Angle here! Today is officially Halloween in the US, and as I sit here drinking my pumpkin spice late from Starbucks, I start thinking about why fall is my favorite season. I just love the cool crispness of the air, cool, yet not cold. The colors of the leaves, pumpkin spice EVERYTHING. Well clas is about to start! see Yall later! Sally's Song - Amy lee [With Lyrics!] (online-audio-converter.com).mp3

Ok..... SPAM! Sucker_for_Pain_(Nightcore).mp3 Nightcore-witchcraft.mp3 Nightcore-Shatter_Me-Linsdey_Stirling.mp3 Nightcore-Loser Like Me.mp3 Nightcore-Let It Burn.mp3 Nightcore-Gravity-Hollywood Undead.mp3 Nightcore-Firebird-Galantis.mp3 Nightcore-Call If You Need Me-Galantis.mp3 Nightcore-_Dark_Places_(Hollywood_Undead).mp3 Nightcore - Welcome To The Club.mp3 Nightcore - We Are Giants.mp3 Nightcore - Wasteland.mp3 Nightcore - Warriors.mp3 Nightcore_-_Untouchable.mp3 Nightcore - Undead.mp3 Nightcore - Titanium.mp3 Nightcore - She's An Angel.mp3 Nightcore - Shatter Me.mp3 Nightcore_-_Pretty_Rave_Girl.mp3 Nightcore - Pretty Little Psycho.mp3 Nightcore - Nothing Stopping Me.mp3 Nightcore_-_Neon.mp3 Nightcore - My Demons.mp3 Nightcore_-_Mother_Murder.mp3 Nightcore - Monster.mp3 Nightcore - Medicine- Hollywood Undead.mp3 Nightcore_-_Listen_To_Your_Heart.mp3 Nightcore - I Will Not Die! (online-audio-converter.com).mp3 Nightcore - God Is A Girl.mp3 Nightcore - Fireflies.mp3 Nightcore - Faded.mp3 Nightcore - DotA.mp3 Nightcore - Cocaine.mp3 Nightcore - Centuries.mp3 Nightcore - Be With You.mp3 Nightcore_-_Battlefield.mp3 Nightcore - Bad Boy.mp3 Nightcore - Animal I Have Become [Lyrics].mp3 Nightcore_-_Angel_With_A_Shotgun.mp3 Nightcore - Angel of Darkness.mp3 ♫【Nightcore】-_Remember_The_Name_(online-audio-converter.com).mp3

1.Freak out. 2. Scream 3. Hide under my blankets until the power comes back. I'm not proud of it, but I'm scared of the dark, and Thunder. And since most power outages where I am at are caused by storms, Its not a pretty picture.

Hey Everyone, Angle here. So its Monday, the day before Halloween, And I'm in a good mood! Needless to say I thought that a blog would be a good idea. I'm a 17 year old high school senior who lives in West Terre Haute Indiana. I'm a lonely little otaku who is tbh, very weird. I love to write and listen to music, and (of course) watch anime. Not much going one today, but still, I'm a little stressed due to it being Finals Week! Wish me Luck! So every time I post a blog, I'm going to attach a mp3 song file. Please Enjoy! But today, I'm going to attach several. See yall later! Heathens-21_Pilots.mp3 Hatsune Miku - Caramelldansen.mp3 Fine By Me-Andy Grammer.mp3 Absolutely (Story of a girl)-Nine days.mp3 [MV]_8¥¦dï¼8¥ÿ_8åîdàÇ_f¥¼8ºä_(LOONA_HeeJin)_'ViViD'.mp3

I'm evil and stuff

Good Job AniMeFReaK! Keep up the good Work!

well....ok. My problem is that I'm too much of a coward to date someone outside of my school, but I can't seem to find someone at my school that holds similar interests and values, so yeah. Due to this issue, I've dated upwards of zero people. This of course leads to other social awkwardness, and even my mother worrying about my lack of relationships.... Any Advice?

Do you give life/relationship advice?

Set it Off..... just saying, I can't sleep! Set_It_Off_-_I’ll_Sleep_When_I’m_Dead_(Lyric_Video).mp4

Hmmmmmm, Say hi?

I'm staying simple, I'm a skeleton trapped inside a human body

Here is one I wrote over the weekend. Marbles Once, a boy snuck out of the house in the middle of the night to sit in his yard, encased by moonlight. The boy waited, and at exactly midnight, a figure emerged. Dressed in a cloak with a hood so no person could see the being inside, the figure stood in front of the boy. The boy smiled, and looked up at the figure, expectantly waiting, with his hand held out. Neither one spoke as the figure reached out from the sleeve of his cloak a white hand of bone, clutching four small objects. The figure dropped the objects into the boy's awaiting hand, and then walked away into the gloom. The boy waited until the figure was gone, then looked at the objects in his hand. They were marbles, white as the purest snow. The boy smiled, then went back inside to bed. For the next four days, the child played. He ran around outside, chasing his friends, laughing and giggling, wiping his runny nose with the back of his sleeve the way that all little boys do in the fall. On the night of the fourth day, the boy snuck out to sit in his patch of moonlight and waited, occasionally wiping his nose. The figure emerged, and the boy smiled. The figure with the white hand of bone dropped three objects into the boy's awaiting fingers, then left, all without saying a word. As before, the boy waited until the figure had left to look at the objects in his hand. They were marbles again, a startling shade of silver. The boy smiled, then went back inside to bed. For the next three days, afraid her son might have a small cold, the boy's mother kept him inside. But the boy was happy, playing board games with his brother and sister, watching the television, and sneezing into a hankie his father had given to him. On the night of the third day, the boy snuck out to sit in his patch of moonlight and waited, sneezing into his hankie and wiping his nose. The figure emerged, and the boy smiled. The figure with the white hand of bone dropped two objects into the boy's awaiting fingers, then left, all without saying a word. As he did the two times before, the boy waited until the figure had left to look at the objects in his hand. They were marbles this time too, a dull, dark, gray. The boy smiled, then went back inside to bed. For the next two days, the boy stayed in his room, too sick to play with his brother and sister. But the boy was happy, reading books, playing with his toys, and coughing into the crook of his arm. On the night of the second day, the boy snuck out to sit in his patch of moonlight and waited, coughing, sneezing and wiping his nose. The figure emerged, and the boy smiled. The figure with the white hand of bone dropped one object into the boy's awaiting fingers, then left, all without saying a word. As with the days before, the boy waited until the figure had left to look at the object in his hand. As expected, it was a marble, this one black as pitch. The boy smiled, then went back inside to bed. The next day, the boy stayed in bed, too sick to play. But the boy was happy; taking long naps, snuggling with is teddy bear, and sweating with fever. That night, too sick to sneak out, the boy lay in his bed. From an open window, the boy was encased by a shaft of moonlight, so he waited, sweating, coughing, sneezing, and wiping his nose. At exactly midnight, the figure emerged. The boy looked up at him, and smiled weakly. Struggling, the boy reached out his hand to accept is gift of marbles from the figure. Silently, the figure shook his head; there were no more marbles left to give. The boy dropped his hand, but still smiled weakly at the figure. The figure stooped, and with white hands of bone, gently picked up the frail, sickly boy. The figure left, carrying the boy away into the gloom, all without saying a word.

Beacon 23 By Hugh Howey I love Sci-Fi and the simplicity of the plot and characters along with the deeper meanings of the human psychological themes are so intriguing!

So lets share some things we have written! Here Is my favorite short story I have written, Her Face Her Face Grief I look at the pencil in my hands and I wonder why I do this to myself. The pencil is green, with yellow dots decorating it. Suddenly, my hand and pencil start to move, as if on their own. They begin to draw a face. A face of a girl they have drawn so many times they no longer need my permission to draw her. They draw her the way she looked the last time I saw her. Her graduation cap is slightly tipped back and her golden hair spills out from underneath it. Her small, delicate mouth is smiling. A wonderful, angelic smile that brings joy to all it falls upon. But it is a smile that never quite reaches her eyes. Her eyes, a beautiful dark green, tell a different story. They have a certain empty, hollow look, yet they are filled with a deep, crushing sorrow. A sorrow that no matter how hard I try, I can never take away. Finally, my pencil and my hand stop, their drawing complete. They have drawn her face. The same face they draw every day. The same face that I loved and cherished for my entire last year of school. The same face, with the same smile and same eyes that belonged to a girl who laughed and cried with me, went with me to the prom, and was the top of her class. The same face that was taken away from me the day after graduation, by an idiot driving so fast in a blue car that he couldn't stop from hitting this wonderful, beautiful girl on her bike on her way to the library. My hand, holding my pencil, now enraged through the grief in my heart, hurls the pencil across the room. My feet and legs make me stand, leaving the drawing of her face on my desk. They walk me out the door, past my blue car with the mangled front, and to the place six blocks away where she is now at. Once they find her, they force me to drop to my knees in front of her. My head presses itself against the cool, rough surface of her gravestone, and I weep. As I weep, the world weeps with me, drowning out my cries and tears with its own, soaking me to the bone. The world and I, we cry together for the one we lost. We cry knowing that tomorrow, my hand will find that green pencil with the yellow dots and, without my permission, they will draw her face again. Moving On Practice makes perfect, or so they say. I sit down at my desk, pick up my pencil, and draw her face. Her delicate, smiling mouth, her sad hollow eyes, her small, pert nose, and her golden hair spilling out from a slightly tipped back graduation cap. I draw her the same way I have been drawing her the same way she looked the last time I saw her. I sit back, my drawing complete. As I look at it, I smile. They were right. After months of practice, this drawing is perfect. There isn’t a line out of place, or a detail missed. Carefully, I slide it into a picture frame, then hold it out in front of me to look at it again. The memory of that day still hurts, but not as bad as it once did. Somehow, nobody but me knows that I was the one who caused the accident that took her life. I loved her, more than I knew I did, and by some cruel twist of fate, I killed her. But that is in the past now, and I have to force myself to move on. I sigh, then place the picture on top of my clothes in my suitcase lying open on the floor. I zip up my suitcase, then, as I walk out the door of my room, I look back one last time. It looks so empty now, but that is good. I’m leaving, and no part of me needs left behind. I close my bedroom door for the last time, then head outside. When I get outside, I smile. My parents are waiting for me next to my new red truck. They help me with my suitcase, then tell me goodbye. My mother is crying, telling me that I had better be home for Christmas. I get in, pull out of the drive, and drive away. Abruptly, after about six blocks, I pull over and park. I get out, and walk into the cemetery. It doesn’t take me long to find her grave, and when I do, I kneel down and rest my head on her headstone. I place one hand against her name, and I sigh. This will be the last time I come here. I pull a pencil out of my pocket, and lay it down next to the flowers her parents must have brought. It was a green pencil, with yellow dots. I get up, walk back to my truck, and quickly leave. I get out on the highway, and turn on the radio. My first day of college is this week, and I’m headed to the campus dorms so I can get my room key and unpack. The dorms are furnished, and the first thing I’m going to put on the desk, is the picture of her face.

I absolutely LOVE writing! Idea forming............... *Ding!* WRITING CLUB?!?!?!