*breathe in....breathe out*
Sunday 12.44pm. Panic hits. Can't quite work out whether it's the fact that we (being me, Chris, Vicky and Blythe - all of whom are leaving pretty damn soon)had a proper leaving do yesterday (as people are knee deep in exams this coming week)and that I've had the realization that I've said my last goodbyes to a great bout of people, thus putting the leaving cogs in motion. Or whether its the fact that instead of revising as i should I'm off to see my friend in 'You're a Good man CHarlie Brown' and then off to see another friend who will undoubtably not allow me to work at statistics in his presence. Or the fact that my room mate has had her bags packed for 2 days but still isn't getting out the frickin' room. Or the fact that I've managed to strike yet anopther Southern Californian man off the friend list for being an emotional dickweed (*heh heh* dickweed). Either way, nervous pain in stomach combined with tight chest restricting breathing all point to said diagnosis: panic. Maybe they have some tablets at Rite Aid for it.
Actually, I might just still be drunk.
Actually, I might just still be drunk.