I've spent a lovely evening in Malmö celebrating Sofia's 22nd birthday (and a lovely night at Evlajn's before that - "I AIN'T BOVVERED, THOUGH") and it would seem I have learned how to drink red wine without gagging.
The result? A drunken, tired, gastritis-y, angsty me.
Right now, my thought are spinning, in dizzying circles. How the hell am I going to survive this summer? Not to mention the rest of this goddamn month? How am I going to afford going to Taizé and Brantås? Will I find an apartment this fall? Will Charlie and me be able to/want to live together? What the hell is going to happen to the confirmation crew? Will anything go my way?
I'm gonna go see if the party post at the SHkinkmeme can cheer me up. Night.