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liked by cassidy_ronalds , kriscollins , celinaspookyboo , and 18,874 others
azrielabraham — shoutout to cassidy_ronalds for being my personal photographer
user she slayed ^ user she always does
user bro when are u releasing ur album? ^ azrielabraham fuck i forgot about that 😁 ^ user BROOOOO
celinaspookyboo why are u posting this at 3am? ^ azrielabraham bc i can celina 🙄 go sleep walk some more ^^ azrielabraham JUST JOKES. much love ❤️
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imessage !
my one true love 💙 - cassidy
ahhhh
my one true love 💙 bitch go to sleep
WOWWWW
my one true love 💙 just jokes 🤗 what do u need... at 3am?
nothing...
my one true love 💙 mhm why did u txt me.
i need some help with my music i can't figure out anything. like it's so harddddd
my one true love 💙 just let it flow wtv the hell that means
yeah wth does that mean i can't make shit flow at all
my one true love 💙 then how the hell do u come up w music at all then?
fuck idk. i just write and sing and the words come naturally im experiencing severe singer's block taylor swift would never have this problem
my one true love 💙 just take a break from it luv get back to it tmr AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP COMPARING URSELF TO TAYLOR SWIFT
night luv 💙
my one true love 💙 💙💙 and you better get ur ass to bed
I WILL MOM
read 3:27 a.m
AZRIEL IN FACT DID NOT GET SLEEP THAT NIGHT. She was too concerned with her album—her non-existent album—to let her mind settle and her conscious get rest. Fidgeting with her fingers and chewing her lips, Azriel tried to come up with lyrics. Although, nothing came to her. No beat, no melody, no words.
She spent the next week in her apartment, writing and writing. And erasing and erasing, ripping pages out of her notebook and tearing the little life written on the pieces of paper to shreds.
Her apartment was chaotic. With her mind so set on creating lyrics, she had completely forgotten about the state of her home; dishes piled in her sink and spilled out onto her counter, crumbled pieces of parchment lay ruined on her rug. She had gone through 2 pens in 7 days time, although she never once finished a song.
On the 8th day, Azriel launched the notebook into the air and watched as it slapped the wall across the room from her.
"This is bullshit," she muttered, standing up and aggressively picking up every single piece of paper that had been discarded during her period of artist crisis. Now, instead of cluttering the floor, they were dropped into the trash and dumped into her apartment complex's garbage bin.
She walked back into her apartment a new person, or at least with a new attitude. Azriel got to work cleaning her home and organizing the mess she had created while in her confused state from the past week.
When she was finally finished, Azriel was more exhausted than she had been the past week. Her limbs ached. Her muscles cried out for some kind of relief. He brain pounded against her skull, creating one of the worst migraines she had ever experienced. She couldn't even pick up her feet and walk, so she passed out on the couch, snoring heavily.
Azriel was determined. She was going to write a song, and hopefully create her new album at least by the time summer started. If she didn't, she was sure she was going to jump off of a Seattle building roof.
