I had a rough morning of panic. Only two things make me panic like that, boys and my mother. This time it was a boy crisis, but it's resolved as it's going to get and by resolved I mean I am sort of sad, but okay, and that's how it's been all summer any ways, but this time I was somewhat more upset. Seven hour drives are very calming and after the extremely upset first hour, I relaxed. I thought about Dylan Thomas a lot. This probably doesn't make sense to most people, but I have this fucked up connection with Dylan Thomas now. I thought about writing letters. I thought about who I want to send them to. Let me know if you want a letter, because I want to write them. Getting home was good. I love driving into St. Paul through 94W to 35E. I even liked getting to my house. I cleaned my room, talking with my mom, showed her pictures of Freistadt (where I'm living next year). My brother came over, we talked. We talked about legit things and his very practical advice was, "Why do you care? Just forget about it. That's what I do when something is bothering me." We are such different people.

If you want a letter send me your address.