After a lot of buts and ifs I’m in Daniel’s bed here in London. The start of my summer trip didn’t turn out the way I hoped. I’m sick as fuck with a high fever and aching lungs worse than the four times I’ve had pneumonia.
On our way to the airport I threw up in the car because my fever was so high… So a shoutout to my mum for being a rock and to the girl working in the bookshop at Arlanda who helped this wreck of a person. <3
Today I was suppose to be at a festival with all my London friends to see the Strokes, Beck, Future Islands and many more. Instead I’m alone in Daniel’s bed coughing and feeling sorry for myself. It’s so unfair! At least I’m here. Please please please keep your fingers crossed that I’ll be fine by tomorrow when we fly off to NYC, otherwise I will die. Maybe literally.