This is where our differing paths through life have taught me a little more on the subject than you. Information I’m not at liberty to disclose.

That… thing… plus magic, is terrifying.

My life was put in danger because of a gang one of my coltfriends was in. Nevermind the various groups that just targeted any random, defenseless pony for profit and self-gain.

No.

I would literally rather die. No thank you.

He threatened me, my friend. He’s got this superior bullcrap attitude. Noble morality spewing garbage. Ponies like him! They were the ones I had to look out for when I was stealing bread or apples just to eat!

But he choose to be mister save-the-day warrior! Became rich as hay too! Could trot through life without a care in Equestria! I didn’t want that! I actively avoided it as best I could! Didn’t help. Wasn’t enough. Barely made it out at all, and far from well.

And where am I?! For all the running and beatings and stabbings and stealing to survive and… Oh God… That poor girl… She… She begged… and I couldn’t do anything…

…

…

What’s wrong?

I just don’t understand things sometimes…

Gilda, I thought we got along so well because at the end of the day, we both knew the score. We didn’t choose to grow up in hardship, we survived it. But offering to let Sweetie Belle borrow such a horrible story? That’s not okay. That’s not okay for any child, but especially not Sweetie Belle. How could you even consider that?

You couldn’t possibly want anypony to grow up through the nightmares we had to endure, could you? But Sweetie Belle of all fillies? That… disgusts me… She’s already been exposed to one horror after another. That little story could have thrown her over the edge. It took several messages to get the point across to her, what if I’d stopped after the first? What if that had been the last straw for both her and Scootaloo?

And you’re not going to understand where this coming from. Or why it’s such a big deal. It’s just going to look like I’m ranting about nothing. I want you to understand, but at the same time I don’t want you, or anypony to know. Bon-Bon’s the only one I’ve ever told, and only because I had to; we’re living together. I try everyday to ignore it, but it’s the deepest scar I have. I try to pretend it’s normal, that it’s nothing, but it’s everywhere and I know it’s not.

I don’t want anypony to become like me… And if you knew everything… Deep down I pray that you wouldn’t want that either… I try to protect children from the harshest realities, the ones they don’t have to ever see. Failing that, to at least help them cope with what they’ve experienced. I’m not asking you to help me, but please don’t go against me here.

Flippin’ A…

…

Socks…

My first lyre was loaned to me by the school. The first one I ever owned was broken into about six or seven pieces during a fight. Of the three I have now, I bought one, and two were birthday presents given to me on the same year by accident.

I see all these sweet stories about musicians and still having their first instrument, but I don’t have one of those. None of my lyres hold any sentimental value to me at all.

For bonus points, my sitar is the only one I’ve ever owned. I saw one in a music store in Canterlot and remembered hearing somepony play one in the streets once. Bought it on a whim.

I had a friend back in Canterlot who’s cousin got Diabetes. Completely changed his life. He stopped going out and partying, stopped drinking, started excising and eating right. Last I heard he’s in better shape than he’d ever been in!

Don’t really have a moral to this. It’s just what I think about when someone brings it up at random.

Well… I suppose I have been lucky thus far. Most of my questions have at least an ounce of tact, even if they were baselessly insulting.

I’ve been in my share of fights. I’ve been beat up, thrown around, had my life threatened more times than I can count.

How about you, little foal? Everything been just daisy with you? Did you have parents to tuck you into bed at night? I know I didn’t. Somepony to look out for you if you got in trouble? All I had was a place to rest my head at night. Sometimes I didn’t even make it back there. And no pony came running; no pony looked for me. If I showed up, I showed up. If I died, no pony would have cared. I’m not asking for sympathy, I’m not even asking for tact from you.

I guess what I’m saying is…

Is insinuating that I’m both male and a eunuch really the best you can do? I’ve slept through worse in an alleyway while being stepped on.

Well, I used to use Coronet, but I switched to Verizhoof. Can’t say I’ve been disappointed!

Sorry that took so long to answer! Was kinda busy!

The kitchen is a mysterious place to me. And I’m not supposed to bother Bon-Bon while she’s cooking. So I don’t know if she’s baking or what.

Bon-Bon has what is known in the professional world as ‘good taste’. I don’t have that. I eat whatever she makes, but I don’t think I really find the subtle nuances that she gets. So I don’t really have a favorite dish, I don’t guess.

She gets me tortilla chips from the grocers. I love tortilla chips.

You can’t really hug me through the ponynet, brony. Unless you want to do that whole asterisks thing, but that’s not really the same.

A number of ponies have read a bit about my past and everyone seemed pretty shocked or sad. I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about me.

I’m not some shattered, broken soul dragging her hooves through life in shell shock. I don’t really talk all that much when I’m out because I like to ponywatch. Sometimes I shut myself away for a week and work heavily on music. But I’m okay. Bad things happen. We live and try to move on.

More to the point, that’s not the extent of who I am. Nopony is built on one series of events. I’ve had some relationship problems, yes, but there’s more to me than just that. And it wasn’t all bad either! You learn to value things more when times get rough.

I drank when I was a filly, so I know how important it is not to. I’ve been in some real fights, so I understand that violence isn’t to be taken lightly. But you know what else? I’ve had a lot of help along the way too, and I know how valuable it was for me. So I try to help others.

But I’m not special either, I just take life one step at a time. I’m not completely content, but nopony should be. Everypony should trot through life striving for just a little bit more.

In the end, I’m okay with how things turned out. I don’t mope around or cry myself to sleep. And heaven knows it could have been worse.

…

Edit: Just warning everypony, lots of ponies have mentioned that his is very sad. So unless you’re really interested in my past, just skip this.

Keep reading

Rainbow Dash asked me this question, and I accidentally answered privately, so she was kind enough to post it for me. Thanks Rainbow Dash!

Hey Lyra you compose REALLY great music! Could i know when you started to play? :) rainbowdash-answers

When I first enrolled in school it was mid school year. The music class wanted another string instrument so they tried to assign me a violin, but I had a lot of trouble. I could barely hold the thing and I couldn’t get my hooves to press the strings properly. The other violinists all used magic, but I didn’t know magic yet.

They found an old harp in storage and switched me to that. The original harpist in the class didn’t like me because they dumbed down all of my parts, which I guess is understandable. Pretty unfair from her perspective to be lumped together with me. It went on like that for the rest of the school year.

When I returned the following year, my harp, the old one, had mysteriously had all of it’s strings cut and was severally dented up. The school either couldn’t afford another harp or didn’t care enough to buy one. I knew magic by then, so I could have started over with another instrument, but it meant I would have had to go back a year in music and play with a new class. When I saw that smug look on the other harpist face, I knew she was responsible and I wasn’t about to let her get away with it.

I asked if there was anything remotely like a harp I could play instead. And they brought out this little thing they called a lyre. They said they used it as a prop during school plays but that it was real.

I was completely ready to sit down next to that harpist and show her up something good. But I still wasn’t all that great. And with my parts no longer being dumbed down I’d usually have to choose accuracy or speed. I just didn’t seem capable of both and my grade reflected that.

Halfway into the year, the harpist moved and I was told to switch back to harp. The teacher said she’d dumb down the parts for me again and I was all for it at first. Then the thought occurred to me that all I was doing was jumping around trying to find an excuse to be accepted for mediocrity. It reflected in other areas of my life too.

So I refused. The teacher wasn’t pleased. She told me if my performance wasn’t up to snuff for the end of the year recital she’d fail me for the year. I was sort of defiant in my youth, if you couldn’t tell, so I didn’t take that very well. I kinda blew off all of my other classes, memorized the pieces in question, and practiced every night.

When the recital came, I still made one or two mistakes. And I barely passed for the year because I all but ignored my other classes. But my music teacher said she was impressed at my improvement, and I even got an award for most improved performer. At the end of the day I got my award, when I came home and removed my dress, I noticed I had a cutie mark.

And that is the real story, all jokes removed.

ask-sweetie-belle:

asklyra:

ask-sweetie-belle:

Umm… okay, fine… here’s the story.  I’m only going to tell it once.

I was with Rarity, and ummm, I guess I was trying to help her with her designs, so she told me “Perhaps, darling, you could get a cutie mark for sticking your horn into the dirt!  Because you certainly will not get one for helping me with this!”

So I thought that it was a pretty neat idea, and I thanked her and went outside.  I got stuck for a few hours… and it became nighttime, so Rarity came out calling my name, then she found me crying upside down in the dirt…

She didn’t want to get her hooves dirty, and she was very scared, sooo… she called the Ponyville Fire Department, but they couldn’t pull me out.  They had to call in for backup, and then they spent a while digging around me until I could finally get out.

That was the first night Rarity let me have Ice Cream before dinner.

Celles, I remember when somepony had to call the Fire Department for me.

I think that happens at least once to everypony, or at least somepony you knew.

Well… that makes me feel a little better.  What was it that happened to you?

When I was a filly in Canterlot, I saw some other kids poking their heads through a railing on a bridge and shouting about something happening on the street down below. I stuck my head through one of the holes to see for myself, but either the holes for them were a little bigger than the one I used, or my head was just bigger.

I had to endure listening to a metal cutter tear through the bar above my head on and off for two hours while my head down to my dock was covered by a thick plastic mat that stopped me from seeing anything. In total I was stick for five hours. I’ve never been more hysteric in my life.