Spent New Year's Eve with my dad in a tiny blues bar at the bottom violent end of Sutton. (The end which stretches into Rose Hill and Mitcham) Madam Depression claims me once more as the clock strikes twelve. These are meant to be the happiest, freest days of my life - whilst I dearly love my family, I feel your eldest teen years are supposed to be something different, a time when you should be out celebrating with friends and seeing the year in. My sister certainly is. Then again, making friends was second nature to her. I suppose I am ultimately a more cautious figure - I've been hurt before in the past with people I thought I could trust. This is not meant to be an egomanical, solipsistic rant either. I am well aware how much I talk about myself, and it's never intentional, so I apologise. (Notice how I've mentioned the word "I" 10 times in this paragraph alone.)
New Year's resolutions?
Get more sleep.
Write better music.
Make more friends.
Try find love and never let it go.
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