I seem to have found a permanent solution to my panic attacks / manic-depressive fits/ Judy Ann Santos-inspired crying jags/ monthly dose of PMS melodrama. It’s called picking up a sketchpad, a Panda ASSTD pen (which recently just ended my search for the BEST PEN EVER at Php 5.75, ousting elitist Gtech ballpoints I always seem to be losing despite it costing about thirty percent of my daily allowance), and bleeding words for hours on end, until one is transformed, temporarily of course, to a level-headed, angst-ridden member of the human species. This ceremony is made official by blasting Black Strobe, without which the aforementioned attempt at recuperation will be declared null and void.

That, and getting a life.

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