Tiger Lilly, Lilly Pad, Lilly Pilly, Lilly of the Valley

I have just had an amazing weekend. I went up to Gunbower (weapon bedroom?) for the weekend. I stayed with a friend, swam in a river and avoided showers. I drank vodka, swayed in a vodka and had a picnic with myself. Everyone kept trying to make a big deal out of this being during exam week. It had to be! I needed the peace and lack of calamity. I slept on a couch and had bacon for breakfast. I preferred it. I'm trying to bring myself to terms with the fact that I would much rather be my happy than successful. I partially need to learn this in case I don't get into my choice of uni but also because it is just who I am. I don't need money, I need platypuses and water birds. I don't need a huge house, I need my life within walking distance. I can't do country living, it hurts to be so far from the people I love. I just need escapades. Like weekends with Kim or running to Cowes late at night. That's one thing I couldn't take with Kim, especially with my dad around to aggravate the situation further. She looks at me like she has her best friend back and then can't forgive me for not being her. I can't do everything for everyone. I need some things for myself. I am weird. I know it. That does not mean that every single little fun thing I do is part of my breeding. Oh, Amy's a bit of a loony tune? That's so Carolynne? You want to know a little bit of truth? She stopped raising me at eleven. You can take my spontaneity and outbursts and cute little games and blame that all on my father. The silence. The anger, depression, scars, suicides, attention span. They come from being and not being raised by him. People need to stop giving me someone elses life and then claiming I break their hearts by only reaching halfway to their expectations. I don't want to be her. I'm happy to evoke memories and listen to stories but don't hate me for being unable to raise the dead to more than a face. That is not my problem.

So much Rice. So much Jarvis. Not so much Spektor.

You know what? I am so fucking sick of people telling me what's healthy and normal an ok. I know what feels right, I know what feels wrong and anything inbetween I will work on at my own fucking pace. I deserve to be happy, to feel gorgeous or beautiful or sexy, to sleep in my own bed or on a couch (or not sleep at all), to drive at any time I like and to panic if I FEEL LIKE PANICKING! I'm tired and angry at other people all the time because they won't let me live with my choices. I can live with them and be happy! You just won't let me. So fuck what you think, fuck what they think, fuck what I think and go to hell. I'll watch Hook at one in the morning if I damn well want to and it's none of your business trying to stop me. FUCK OFF AND STOP CARING, IT'S NOT HELPING. I can clearly do things just fine on my own if I have to and damn it all to fucking hell, I WANT TO.