cimorene

The culture barrier is like a wall of glass that gradually gets dirtier the longer you look through it; it's not transparent at all anymore, even though I hardly knew what it looked like at first.

I never know if I have the social register right over here, regardless of whether I speak English or Swedish. (I'm homesick for Alabama even though I only have to think about it for five minutes to remember all my loathing for it. I don't want to go back for very long. Maybe just a month or so.)

I have gotten up early three days this week to make an appointment with a shrink only to be thwarted by the stupid health centre all three times. Bastards. ("Oh," says the mental health division secretary, "you want to see a psychiatrist? Well, there's a problem, in that unfortunately none of our psychiatrists have any time. At all. So we're recommending that you see a general practitioner. They know a lot about psychiatry too!" wtf? I'm a unique snowflake, damn you!)