Hård i fejjan lös i magen. 

Sittning in a sterile room with a noisy fan waiting with a bunch of nervous people (mostly baby faced boys with expensive clothes and parents waiting outside). Yes, it’s still my freaking drivers licens we’re talking about (as it was here).

Now finally doing the theory in my mothertoung. After passning the exam 4 times’ in Romanian languade I’ve unfortunately been way to cocky to study properly for this one. Hence, sitting here with a racing heart and sweaty palms damning my overconfidence. Feeling disproportionately annoyed at a girl talking loud on her phone, dry mouth, so restless, just want it to be over.
Woke up eeeeeeearly to have time to study but got stomach pains as soon as I opened the book so just walked around restlessly self sabotaging and manage to tip out a bottle liquid soap under the sink instead. It took me a good 25 minutes before it was all gone. Decided to listen to a radio program instead. One of the few phrases that stuck with me was this coach talking about an old saying in Falun; hård i fejjan, lös i magen. That’s just how I felt.
I answered all 70 questions, reluctantly pushed “send” and,
Celebrated with Ellinor and a frappuchino at Järntorget, humming on Rocky theme song all the way home.
Now it’s only  the driving test left to pass, and then I’m finally a real grown up.

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