'Getting 'lost' is only natural. Feeling 'rage' happens. Reaching 'EX/TC' is something entirely different...'
Welcome to EX/TC.

Friday, 26 October 2012


The belief that I was over all of these feelings, all these emotions, turned out to be wrong. In a flash, just seeing your face brought everything back. I remember the complements, the ones you paid me. I remember the phone calls and times spent together. I remember the rage, and your confusion, your emotional immaturity. You never knew what you wanted. I hope you never find out. You deserve a life aloneIt's just like you to be quick with your words, saying what you feel, never thinking of the consequences. Every signal you sent said ‘take me now’, but when I tried to pursue, you assured me I had gotten the wrong message... or maybe it was just a message that you didn't quite get across right. It wasn't even about f***ing, it could've been more. I wanted more. Those are the kinds of signals you sent. I could call you any time, we could go for something to eat whenever, you wanted to spend time with me, you missed me.

After seeing you again, I wonder if you remember anything you've said to me. I wonder if you still miss me. I wanna know if you know how angry you make me, how our whole ‘situation’ stays with me, and how I wish I done things when I could've.

I regret nothing... just you, and you.

Edited: 20:56, on 26/10/2012
EX/TC can be cruel sometimes.

Sunday, 14 October 2012

Portico Quartet - Steepless (Kaytranada Remix)

Acting like this actually ain't the shit...

4mins of EX/TC

Friday, 12 October 2012


Nights like tonight...
When the air is new, and crisp. Where you walk on pavements tinted in a golden glow.
The cars that pass are few and far between.
The simplicity of the night allows for reflection. It grants us the time and space to think.

Tonight, more than any other night in a while, I feel alive.
As the moon watches over me, I am rejuvenated, with a strengthened belief of ones self.
I'm in control.
I'm always in control.

We are the architects of our own destinies. Deciding for and against elements of our infantile future.
Dreamers, realists, optimists, pessimists, each word spoken sets us upon an unwritten path.
The quill has ink, the dawn is approaching.
What will you write?