I have suppressed anxiety issues apparently. They must be very suppressed because I don't even know what there is to be anxious about.

...

(Edit:

-One of my best friends came back to NZ from Spain to basically be here with/for me. And now, he is moving back to England/so obviously I haven't done such a great job at impressing him as much as I used to.
-Two; My sister has incredibly mainstream 'emo' friends. And I disapprove of that.
-Three: My doctor subscribed me to anti-depressants.
-Four; My band now just consists of me and L.G. And we come up with great lyrics. And great guitar. And great sounds. But can't combine them. Because. We still haven't discovered /how/.
-Five: My stalker returned to Weltec and my Tutor is trying to convince me into pursuing a harassment form to legally remove him from the building for selfish purposes only.
-Six: I get up at 6.30, I go to weltec. I work solidly on animation and design for clients and my program till four without a break. Then I go straight to work. I work till ten thirty, get home at eleven. Work on Weltec D.I.Y till two. And then crash. Only to repeat, the next day...

and the next day...

and the next day.

Then my friends complain about me not seeing them, or texting them. Or hanging out with some of them, and not with others.

HELLO. PEOPLE. FRIENDS. FAMILY. I DON'T HAVE AS MUCH TIME AS YOU THINK. AND WHEN I DO. I WANT TO -SLEEP-. THAT'S -ALL-.

If L.G decides to come over when I'm half asleep and persuade me into guitaring it up, I'll do it. THAT'S BECAUSE HE'S AT MY HOUSE. I MAKE NO EFFORT TO SEE -ANYONE-.

-... Also, it doesn't help my dad going to the China for a conference and then bitching about me not turning up for dinner because I'm at work.

HELLO. FATHER. PERSON. FAMILY-MEMBER. I DON'T HAVE AS MUCH MONEY AS YOU THINK. AND WHEN I DO. I WILL SPEND IT SOLEY ON CD'S FOR LISTENING PLEASURE, ART SUPPLIES, BUS FARES AND SAVING UP TO LEAVE FOR AUCKLAND.

-Don't get me wrong. I love my folks. I just hate hypocrites.

-Seven;

Relationships suck. I know. You don't need to tell me. I know form -experience-. Quit bitching. There's only so much room on this blog.

And finally: eight-

No More Smashing Pumpkins Albums. According to Jimmy Chamberlin.

I just died a little inside. Fuck i-tunes. I want something real. REAL. Hold in my hand, scratch the CD case, look through the album artwork, flip the lyrics- REAL.

And that's me. Thank you.

P.S -. S.P.