Sometimes I just want to cry, to lie in bed, hold onto my pillow for dear life, and wait out my own manufactured storm.
Sometimes the world seems entirely sunflowers and ukulele anthem and I just want to smile at strangers and dance down north terrace.
Sometimes I feel both ways in one day, and I can never decipher this.
Sometimes I am a bit annoyed that I had a happy childhood and have a supportive family, with only white-guilt and fat-girl-self-esteem to create out of.
Sometimes I remember I am a spoilt, over-priveliged moron.
Sometimes, things are pretty ok. Sometimes they are not.
Sometimes, things are very complicated. Sometimes they are not.
Some people are very lucky, some people are not.
Sometimes, I cannot decide whether this fact is ok or not, or simple or not.
Back luck for me, I guess.