Too many things I can't accept. Such as the inability of certain people to listen no matter how many times I tell them.


Just bashed my head on a painting in the house. The glass frame now has a spiderweb of cracks all over it.


Obviously, in no mood to do GP.


Everything I do...


I do it for music. Or for my friends. Or simply to pass those stupid A levels so I can get a damned job if I don't succeed in music to support myself.


Nothing else matters. Nothing of the future. Only of the past. But what's past is past, and I can't change it. Though I dearly wish to.


I live on adrenaline.


Yes, I'm weird. You can call me mad. Which other guy destroys ornaments in the house with his head. But the fact is, I don't care. As long as the point gets across. As long as the job gets done. Which it almost never is.


I continue to set high standards for myself. In the hope of reaching them someday.


Looking back it all seems like one big effort to break out.


Little glass fragments in my hair. One got onto my hand and caused a minor cut. I threw it away.


I've always been competitive. I only started showing it a few years back. If you punch me, I'll punch back.


If only I stopped acquiescing to my opponents' lengthy tirades of persuasion which served no purpose but to lower my guard and earn me yet another stab in the back. Which I fully deserve.