As the years go by

And so the years begin to go by so unbelievably fast. And we sit there talking about how maybe it was just because that last year of school was rough. I, on the other hand, think we're lying to ourselves. The years are going by faster and faster and time is not on our side.
And so we learn from our mistakes, we begin to control our bodies and minds, all together,  as a whole, even when we drink and when we smoke, we've matured really.
And its sad really because my favorite age is over and I'll never get it back.
And all the coming years? For that we're not ready. But time is already ahead of us.
And we won't catch up.



It's been a while since I posted my face on you.
Here it is, Sofia, aged 18, with a cold, a blocked nose, a sore throat, off to read 1984, hanging with my Strepsil babes, cause mom said they were          "antibacterial".

TALK ABOUT FUN FRIDAY NIGHT (although 1984 is really something).

/sick s



So pretty much all I been doing since saturday night is play with my little half brother, watch suits, eat dads [awful](sorry) food and read a few pages here and there of 1984. Oh, all while the continuous thought of "sofia write your personal statement" moves in the shadows of my brain, showing its repulsive face here and there, making me feel pretty bad about consciously delaying it.


ps. i still love christmas


From Vegetarianism: Wiki

"To produce milk from dairy cattle, calves are separated from their mothers soon after birth and slaughtered or fed milk replacer in order to retain the cows milk for human consumption.[126] Vegans state that this breaks the natural mother and calf bond.[126] Unwanted male calves are either slaughtered at birth or sent for veal production.[126] To prolong lactation, dairy cows are almost permanently kept pregnant throughartificial insemination.[126] After about five years, once the cows milk production has dropped, they are considered "spent" and sent to slaughter for hamburger meat and their hides. A dairy cow's natural life expectancy is about twenty years.[125]
In battery cage and free-range egg production, unwanted male chicks are culled or discarded at birth during the process of securing a further generation of egg-laying hens.[127]

So this makes me want to become a vegan. Even if I'm a vegetarian because of environmental reasons and not because of the meat industry............. ohhh but giving up banana yogurt and cheese sounds too difficult.

Ah I should not be reading wikipedia articles this late. 


things n. unknown

1. I miss my mother

2. I feel just fine

3. Suits

4. New year plans

5. Why does everyone want to do that?

6. Hand mirror

7. Accept yourself as you are

8. Where have you been hiding?

9. I might be a little jealous,

10. No I am not.

11. We did quite like eachother at first

12. Seemed friends and all

13. Time is so relative, time does not exist

14. Time is man made

15. Drivers license

16. That which we call a rose, by an other name would smell as sweet



I am objectified.
I am seen as less important.
My opinions are repressed.
I receive a lower salary.
I am raped.
I am portrayed as dumb.
I must take care of the kids.
I can't show my face.
I can't marry who I want.
I cannot go out alone.
I feel unsafe.
I am given uncomfortably sexual comments.
I am killed.
I am sold.
I am forced into prostitution.
My body sells.
I am supposed to cook.
I should clean for you.
I am not supposed to have a job.
I am a house wife.
I never feel completely free.
I supposedly can't drive.
I am meant to be quiet.
I am married away young.
My hair cannot show.
It is my fault because my clothes were provoking.
I am beaten.
I "wanted" it.
I am a woman. 



sometimes i just feel shitty about myself
like i am not useful in any shape or form
and then sometimes
i truly truly dislike the way i am with people


glass bambu

i mean what in the world am i thinking.
i really do laugh as i write this.
not writing that bloody personal statment is not gonna get me anywhere nearer to going to university next year.

hahahaha im so ridiculously useless sometimes

det blir:
Surrey (Guildford)
(please be excited)
(ok good)



whats up with the parkas, boys?

This morning, on the green six, four young guys got on the bus.
Three of them were wearing parkas of the same greenish color. 
I was a little confused.

First of all, because parkas are not warm and it was freezing. (Or well, I was)

Second of all, they looked a little odd; all dressed the same. I mean the other one must have felt a little out of place, wearing an unimportant black jacket.

Otherwise, the day has been rather uneventful.
I woke up by the sound of bells that was F's alarm and got up to brush my teeth.
It was rainy and I felt like I had not slept much.
I brushed my teeth and got dressed.
"I have to go now" I told her and woke her up.

She wrapped some knackebröd in a napkin because I'd get hungry after the dentist.
I love it when people show affection in the smallest of things.

I went to the dentist.
My face felt funny till about 4 pm.

And then I ran.

And then I ate pizza.

And now I'm here.


I really should've fallen asleep hours ago.
But watching videos that I could be part of in a near future is so exhilarating



I was going to start writing by saying how it is disappointing that I cannot fall asleep sometimes. I mean, I really do love waking up early, having the whole day ahead of me, feeling like it has indeed been a long day when the day ends; all of this made difficult if only a few hours of sleep are actually had.

But then I thought, no.

Being a little tired and feeling a little shit tomorrow is not the hardest thing I'll ever do. 
I also think that instead of laying in bed, thinking nonsense and whatnot I shall get up and "force" myself to write. Which hasn't actually been so terrible. Quite nice actually.

I went out for a run today.
It was very much enjoyable; even if the body hurts, the mind is having such a blast. Ahhh, the endorphin afterwards is almost like being joyfully drunk and in love and at an amazing concert and just everything else nice at the same time.

I don't know if any of this made sense. 

Become aware

Why must you complain to me?
Don't you see I have finally decided to stop biting my nails and your
complaints make me put my hands in my mouth and then I have to tell myself, no sofia, no, you're done with this?
I have bitten my nails for as long as I can remember and it's about bloody time I stopped. So please don't make my job any harder

Also, yes, I think "wow yeah shes weird and unreasonable".
But so are you at times.

On a more positive note we have the fact that tomorrow is / today is December first. The beginning of the last month of this long but also strangely short year. "Do the years go by faster as you grow older?" "Yes. But there's nothing you can do about it"


PS2. Still a lovely saturday night.



twenty-ninth of november of two-thousand and thirteen

Quarter to twelve in the morning. 

I sit a little uncomfortably on our three-man white sofa, in my beloved apartment in relatively central Malmö. I've had breakfast -granola with my favorite banana yogurt- and a cup of coffee with two (or was it one?) gingerbread cookies. Strangely enough it feels like it was forever ago, but I ate a little before eleven.

Alex sits to my right, on the smaller white sofa. He's playing Coldplay - "...Lights wills guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you" as he bites his nails and stares at something into his own laptop.

Pepe and Malin are in my room, possibly half awake half asleep. I've heard them click the snooze button at least three times already. Malin's alarm is the sound of birds singing, and I first heard it from mom's room this morning -where I slept tonight-, thinking "Birds singing in central Malmö? That's the first time I hear them since we moved here a year ago!". And so while I was in the kitchen making breakfast I heard them again, realizing  it was an alarm, and sadly, not real birds. And now I hear it again. Definitely not birds. 

I think they're finally getting up. Last night they said they wanted to leave for a day trip to Copenhagen at twelve. But it's twelve now and they're both still in bed. Now I hear a few voices; Pepe's typical I-just-woke-up-ugh-I-wanna-stay-in-bed voice and a few quite words from Malin.

"Or am I part of the disease.....?"

Now I hear drilling noises coming from upstairs. I think they're fixing the apartment on the 6th floor that caught on fire during the summer. The sound is so awful but I think today is the last day they'll drill and finally stop making that awful sound that rings everywhere in our apartment.

There's a siren in the background.

More Coldplay songs; this one I've heard before, but can't quite remember it.

Pepe just came into the room, in his dirty looking grey tank, kneeling down by the TV to charge his phone. Malin peeked in and said good morning, with her long and gorgeous ginger hair everywhere, still in her cute red checkered pajamas. 

I should probably mention the weather: it's grey. But I don't mind. The day still seems perfect.

This is my present moment.



And so she created her own world.
A world where every wanting-thought of hers was real.
His curls and his heavy beats; the way he swayed as his music played.
His fingers, turning the different buttons and controls, oh so beautiful.
And his dark clothing and shy ways.
In this world,
it was all hers.

She could pick anything she ever desired and have it right there.
Everything she ever wanted to do but didn't was made possible.
Always happy, always proud of what she did and had.
No waste of time, no, never. It was all so fucking perfect.
And it all seemed so real, maybe that was the problem.

The swaying, the way his body truly followed the music.
How could someone's movements be so captivating?

Too bad she always woke up.


how can someone make such music



so very well done
never thought i'd find twerking acceptable
but i think i do, in this video
she hit the right spot




Everything hurts
my head
my back
my head
my rib-cage
my feet
my thighs

and the bus driver just had to be such a dick
"don't lie to me"
no fuck you
why would i lie to a bus driver liksom

still a nice day


Why'd you only

I have nice days
and nice nights
and so everything is plainly just nice

I tend to write more when I'm feeling more than just nice,
so I don't know what I entirely prefer
To feel great but to write less,
or to feel too much and write much more

I have so many books to read its overwhelming
I have run out of tea
Dad's in India and I miss him

Otherwise everything is as good as it gets



Sweden, with its long winters and its beautiful short summers
Sweden, with good opportunities
Sweden, with Stadsparken in the autumn
Sweden, with the buses that are the perfect place to read
Sweden, with cozy candle lit friday movie nights
Sweden, with the fact that I walk home at 4 in the morning and nothing happens
Sweden, with the dentist sending me a letter twice a year to see me and tell me I need to floss
Sweden, with the men who push the strollers
Sweden, with summer festivals
Sweden, with getting so drunk you can barely see
Sweden, with top rated free universities
Sweden, with nice people
Sweden, with all the bikes
Sweden, with her, and her, and her, and him and others
Sweden, with the people who believe it's truly bad here
Sweden, with Malmö
Sweden, with Valborg in Lund
Sweden, with the julmust and the cozy Christmas times
Sweden, with getting money for going to school, for becoming better
Sweden, with my family
Sweden, with love


And im sorry, but the cake thing was just too funny. I mean yes, he should have the right to express his opinions, but was he really ATTACKED!? No. And no, Sweden is not unsafe because a politician gets a little cake on his face.


To write

Are any of the words I write even original?
I have heard them all before
or read them, otherwise how could I write?
How would all of this make any sense at all?

But at the same time there are so many phrases that have never been said
So many stories that have never been written down
So many ideas and thoughts that have not been put on a computer screen
or a piece of paper

Because the possibilities really are endless



I just don't really know what to do about anything at all

And yes I think about the same things every day

And yes it's the same things that keep me awake at night

And no it doesn't hurt, not at all

But it's an annoying feeling

And I guess it just needs more time



GIRLS: Natalie

Cecilia never found out why that bus never came, but up to this day, she's glad it didn't.

She waited another ten minutes, staring as other buses going to different neighborhoods of town passed by. The 21 only went once an hour after nine, so Cecilia knew she had to wait at least half an hour more for the next bus. She decided to walk to the bigger bus station a few blocks away, where there was an indoor area she could sit and wait. She took the back street to the station, avoiding the loud cars and bright lights on that main street. As she walked, she noticed how beautifully quiet it was there instead. The cold gave a strange stillness to everything around her; the apartment buildings, the parked cars, the leafless trees and even Cecilia's own thoughts. She wasn't very fond of loud noises, she could get easily stressed out by a loud motorbike driving outside her apartment or by the constant noise that the neighbor liked for music. And so walking a few blocks in the intense silence gave the city something she had rarely experienced but absolutely enjoyed.

She kept on walking till she reached the main station, where it wasn't quite so still, although the city still remained somewhat calm and quiet. She soon found out that most people were inside due to the now freezing cold and she was so hungry and tired that she preferred the cold to the loud voices of people in the waiting area. Cecilia unconsciously lit another cigarette to pass the time, now unable to ignore the shivering and the way the cold was spreading to every last bit of her body. Her head was beginning to ache and she could no longer feel the tip of her toes. Her mood had been ruined by all those loud people in the waiting area. So even if it was freezing, she knew she would feel slightly better out in the now 0-degree weather, in nothing but jogging tights, a thin top and her excuse for a jacket.

"Are you not cold?"- was the first thing Natalie ever said to Cecilia.


some people just have certain voices
that can pretty much melt through my brain and make me feel a little ill

but its almost a nice sensation


GIRLS: Kalimera

It was around nine o'clock in the evening, the sun had set hours ago and it was getting rather cold. Winter was closing in, making the short days rainy and grey and the long nights freezing and pitch dark. Cecilia had just finished her usual Monday yoga class and was heading back to her flat on the other side of town. She sat by the bus stop, cuddling up in her thin bomber jacket and thought "When will I ever learn? I wouldn't be freezing if I had brought my winter jacket" as she smoked a cigarette out of hunger. She knew she ought to stop smoking if she ever wanted to really benefit from her yoga but she hadn't had the time to eat dinner and smoking really helped, but apart from that, she repeatedly told herself that she'd quit sometime in the near future.

The cold was slowly creeping in through her glove-less fingers, up the sleeves of her flimsy jacket and around every little strand of hair on her now shivering arms. "Okay, don't think about the shivering: stop shivering! Don't think about how cold it is. Relax, it's not cold, it's not that cold, I'm not cold. The bus will be here soon. It's not cold, I'm not cold" she thought over and over again. Cecilia was unlucky enough to not wear a proper jacket the first cold winter day that year. But on the other hand, she had always been the type to underestimate the weather and was more or less used to this type of uncomfortably cold situations. Cecilia would deny the winter every year, telling people that she would not wear a winter jacket until fully necessary, meaning that she froze though October and half way through November. And even then, when she finally took out her winter coat, she would forget her gloves, or leave her scarf at home with the excuse that it wasn't even cold- at minus something degrees. This meant that she always had a bit of a cold through every winter she could remember, except for the ones she spent in warmer countries.

The bus was late; a good ten minutes late, which was strange given the day and time. The 21 was almost always empty on Monday nights and it wasn't snowing or raining which sometimes led to the buses not being on time. Cecilia knew the driver, it was always the same man driving this route: a fifty-something bearded Greek male who always had an annoyed look on his face, but was actually very kind and friendly. Every time she took the 21, he would greet Cecilia as she beeped her monthly card against the machine and stepped in onto the warm bus. She always answered with the only Greek word she knew: "Kalimera!"-even if it meant good morning and it was night time. 




So today; its just very very windy
and tomorrow should be exciting



To accept and to understand

You see the thing is
You say that i'm immature because i get angry at You

yes i will get angry at You when you make homophobic remarks
and expect me to "accept Your point of view"
i will not accept Your homophobic remarks

i understand Your preocupation and Your way of thinking, but i cant accept it

society has not gotten this far because people have just accepted their horrible realities
segregation and racism due to skin color has changed and improved due to people not accepting the way in which they were/are treated

people should not accept the fact that some are being treated differently because of their sexuality: we all are after all only human fucking beings



GIRLS: The beginning

"What's it like?" she asked her. "To have found her, to finally realize she's the one who will stand by you no matter what?". "It's extremely scary. I feel vulnerable, really" Cecilia replied. "What happens when I no longer have her? I feel lost when she isn't around. It fucking hurts when she leaves to do whatever she has to do. I mean, I wish her and me could just lay in bed all day every day and talk and drink green tea. I then feel safe, with her by my side, certain that it is very unlikely that something might happen to her, to this precious human being with whom I can no longer live without. And I mean that literally. Its like she's this amazing drug and I am the biggest addict". "Fuck, I can't tell whether I'm jealous of you two or whether I'm glad I'm not in your position". "Well, I'm the happiest I've ever been. And everyday is just perfect. But when she's fallen asleep and I lay awake, I think "This can't possibly last forever" and that scares more than you can imagine. I wish I could spend eternity with her, it probably would be the only way to get this constantly horrifying and discomforting feeling out of me".

Cecilia was born in a small town close to São Paulo. She never quite understood why exactly she was born there, but it was something to do with her parents and some luck related witchcraft they had going on around that time. Her parents were like that, they had "stages", like teenagers do: they just never really stopped having them and she never really knew what was coming next: one year, they visited all major cities in Japan and learned everything there is to know about Japanese cooking and then they built a small house in the middle of a forest with no running water or electricity and lived there for a whole year to "open up the soul". But her parents are a whole other story. This is about the day she met her and how it got like this.


today is filled with a strange sensation of melancholy
for something i've never had
in fact for something i don't actually know

today is filled with arctic monkeys on repeat

did i make any mistakes?
probably not, maybe, yes

people see things differently, people make their own minds up about what is correct
and what is not


Don't break down



Drunken red blue eyes. Beautiful, tired and lost gazes. Blushed cheeks. Dark jeans, dark jackets, fancy shirts and gloves. The bittersweet smell of cigarettes and cologne. The stink of beer and strong spirits. The hilarious ignored conversations. The distanced looks through the train windows, longing for home, for undressing the dark and dirty clothes and finally sleeping it that warm, known bed. 



dogs and bones

what is in my mind?

well the fact that you are very nice indeed
that i was mistaken about you
that maybe it wasn't surprising, but more or less relieving
to know how things actually have been

im tired and i feel like staying in bed all day
but also seeing you
and you
and you

but one cant see everyone all the time everyday, now can one?

i hope you have a nice saturday




a friday in october
of the eighteenth year of my life
with a computer running on low battery
a back hurting from i dont know what
and an over-all feeling of discomfort
and confusion
and despair
and happiness
and everything
and just
all at the same time

fridays are recurring and so are these feelings 
there will always be fridays and there will always be a confused sofia
who is never certain about anything at all

/happy friday to you



Now I realise how I was just a little kid


red lips and brows

I recently found out I actually have natural eyebrows and have stop harassing them with my tweezers. They feel better, they thank me. Its 2013 guys, leave them brows alone, like that song says "leave them kids alone".

Now to find a good recipe to work with those amazing chantarelles in the fridge.




what are you doing get to work!




So when people ask: "Oh hi! How was your birthday?!" I should really be like, it was actually pretty weird and overwhelming and sad. I ended up sitting in a warm uteservering, crying with mascara all over my face and drinking a white russian with my parents while eating cheesecake. I was disappointed  by a friend and just couldn't really keep a happy face because no one asked if I really did want to turn 18. I missed my brother and I wished that I got to see mom, dad and my two brothers all together more often. And so there I was, with that same old "you-ve-cried-too-much-and-you-re-too-sad-headache".

And I mean now it's over and there's no going back.
I think I have officially accepted that I don't very much like getting older and having a birth day. So maybe now that I have accepted it, it won't be so bad in the next 60 to 80 birthdays that I (might) have left. 



That feeling that her songs always spark in me.
The same old strange feeling of my chest being wide wide open.
Not to be confused with a lonely feeling or an empty one.
It's different, definitely different.
Unexplainable might be the right word. Is that even a word?
The word-check says it isn't.

"Whatever", you say.
Whatever what?
Why are people always looking for concrete answers,
when they know that nothing that will ever come out of an individuals lips
will ever be as concrete as the thoughts they think and that these thoughts will never be
explained the right way, no matter how hard one might try?

"Give up", I should say.
"The closest you will ever get to knowing anything about me, anything at all, is to try to read between the lines ("which is not very far, by the way"),
but will you ever feel the pain that I feel as I write? What pain? Oh, the pain in my hand mostly,
But the pain of really not being able to explain what I really feel too".... "Of course you won't, you never will".

Nothing makes sense nowadays, and "being" one year older really will not help. Thank you very much.

Being older and being wiser do not go hand in hand. The older I get, the more confused I am about everything and everyone. "Well done"- I say to myself.




Today I was put to sleep for the first time.

And then I woke up not knowing where I was and with this blue thing wrapped around my wrist. Now it's swollen and it hurts if not over my heart. And these white stickers which had the purpose of keeping my heartbeat and pumping weird stuff into my system won't come off. A funny experience I should say.

I should stop writing and take a pain-killer. My hand hurts.

October, October, such an interesting month.



Do I wanna know____?

October, october, october.

The faint pink color from the screen hits my room and my clothes and its melancholic.
I love october. Yesterday I was at a loud concert with loud music and good looking danes, I should move to copenhagen and kiss danish boys.
Today I was with her and we walked around in a cold malmö and talked about life and men and boys and us. And places, where we might one day go. Hopefully together.
And so tomorrow I will wake up and drink two cups of tea for breakfast and shower at 5 in the morning. All day spent at the hospital. Excitedly nervous.
Friday I just dont know and october is a peculiar month and I wish I was in love.




just not super excited
i almost cant be bothered with it



Its one in the morning and I'm tiredly looking for work.

so tired.

what do I even want?



why cant i have faster internet?

So I can download season 2 quicker?



tuc tuc


dark blonde






my face today

As I sit here, in my living room, on a rather unconformable chair, I have lived 6556 days. This what I look like on my 6556th living day, fresh from the first selfies ever taken on my new laptop.

Things are ok but I need to get through my very first play analysis and it really isnt the easiest thing ever. Although I must admit I've done worse and this is actually kind of fun, but nothing like the useless format writing I did last year.......

Now that i think about it, do I even look like the person who writes the stuff on here?



Ollé is not a poem

My fingertips taste of iron
And the cold is starting to rush in

First through my shoulders
Finally down to my spine

The wine moves slowly,
Past every vain, every thought
Every feeling ever involved

Every memory ever remembered
Every person ever so close

And so the car comes by again, 
The same strange man
Wishing in vain 

What will be of me?
Of you?
Of us?
Of everything I ever thought of?
And so I write to not forget 

In the end,
She denied it all again.



I have a problem.

And its quite problematic.

They mess me up because I take too long to finish them. And then I sit here wondering what to do because that tiny little world I had for so long is finished; it will never be anything more after that last read page.



things i need to do

get my shit together
get my shit together
get my shit together

basics 2.0:
get over myself
buy course literature
stop spending so much fucking money
get my shit together
buy a bookshelf
stop spending money
go work out
read my course literature
stop fucking people over
stop letting people fuck me over
get over myself once more
maybe find a fucking job

basics 2.01 deluxe version:
have a job
have my shit together
pass my courses
have money and not spend it on only expensive food
be a nice person
sleep properly

basics 3.0 final golden deluxe version:
get over yourself goddamn it


Train stations in the early morning

I don't think I have ever been as confused as I am at this point in my ridiculously short life. My emotions and thoughts vary so greatly from one hour to the next and I feel like I can't handle my own mind anymore.

The thoughts about everything being a simple but yet complicated creation of mine are scary and rather recurring. The "what if?" doesn't seem to dissolve in my sea of broken thoughts, thoughts that seem to have a mind of their own and don't care about the fact that sometimes I feel like I can't grasp reality, at all. What does that even mean, to grasp reality?

Does everyone feel this way? Does everyone reach this point in their lives, where they realise how complicated it is to even begin to understand their own mind?



Is the only way to be with you to sleep and hope to dream of better choices and better times? Probably. It does seem to work. It makes it easier to cope with all this bullshit.

Life's good otherwise.

Summer updates

You wake up at 11 not knowing where you are. His parents bedroom, OK. How did you get here? A big blur after that one extra shot. You get up, fix your T-shirt that you somehow put on backwards last night. Who's still here? -you wonder. Where is everyone? Did they leave? And oh god, you smoked far too many cigarettes last night. Your lungs feel heavy and it hurts to breathe. You cough and walk out of the room and find the bathroom. Well you're in one piece but your entire body hurts and you're missing every thought that went through your head after the tequila. Is this how you want your days to be?


Headaches and heartaches

Have you ever thought about how different headaches can feel? The ache that you feel the morning after a night with too many drinks and cheap vodka shots is so different to the pain that fills your entire head because they made you cry a little too much this time, because it actually did hurt. The way it burns all around your mind, filling each thought with even more pain. It aches so much that you can almost feel every little brain cell turning and turning around searching for a place inside your head where this pain ceases to exist. But you cried too many tears and there is no place for them to escape the excruciating pain. The ache stays till you finally decide to fall asleep and enter the endless world of your own mind, where maybe, but just maybe, you might be treated a little better.



I wish I could write a book. I wish could write down all the ideas and thoughts that on daily basis excitedly jump around in my head and asked to be written down.
And then I always get afraid. Afraid that I might forget one great idea and simply not be able to think about it again.

Why don't I just do it, I tell myself right now.


One more thing

It really is fucked up, the world we live in.

My head

I miss you, how are you? I hope everything's well. I somehow feel like being in your arms once again, before all of this happened. I know its a selfish thought, but its also completely unrealistic and slightly sickening; not because of you but because of what I have done to myself and my morals. She is right after all. I am only hurting myself, mutilating my own self respect, if it even exists.

I wish there was someone who could truly understand, maybe you were the only one.




How can I begin to explain how much everything has changed since the last time I wrote on here?
Exams hadn't ended, Spain hadn't happened, we hadn't had prom and I was officially still in high school.
I don't know what to write.
Things are nicely different, dad's a real douche, I've missed my brother and I wish she wasn't so fucking annoying.



a screenshot

11 months ago on my tumblr

where did you go? i dont remember the last time i saw your eyes grow smaller


The first summer

I always seem to forget what my summer was like once autumn kicks in and the weather suddenly gets much colder. I envy those that can easily tell you about that amazing summer they had a couple of years ago, how much fun they had, how warm it was, how the sun was shinning all day long and the boys they met were the best kissers they ever had. 

What did I even do last summer...? I guess you can blame my amnesia on the awfully long winter we just survived. I wish I could still remember what that summer-freedom feels like, so I could look forward to it; after-all summer is really just 4 nights away. 

But really, it is a positive thing. I can live the next summer like it's the first one I ever had and the last one I'll ever experience.


MM #2

There was an old red velvet sofa, like the kind you see in the movies. It was some sort of outdoor room, because I could see trees and bushes in the background, behind the recently cleaned glass walls. The floor was made of small grey and white mosaics that could hardly be seen under the old Persian-looking rugs covering most of the floor. I guess you couldn't quite say that the space was spotless clean, but it was definitely not dirty either; the old rugs and the old sofa made the air a bit dusty but at the same gave the room a feeling of comfort, of belonging, of togetherness. 

The reason to why exactly I was there, is still unknown to me. I'm almost certain that I wasn't alone in the room, but can only quite remember one face. E seemed to be my friend;  she was short and had long light blonde hair. She also wore a dress which made her look quite young; she must have been at least a year younger than me. "M has always been crazy about you, have you never met her?" E said excitedly and told me more about unknown beautiful M.

I don't know why, but after hearing E say how much M was head over heels about me, I swear I felt my heart skip a beat and without even seeing her I knew I was already somehow drawn to her and whatever she had to bring.

Seconds after, M walked in into the glass house with a few more people and I immediately knew it was her E had been talking about. It is so unbelievably difficult to try to explain how I felt at that moment, standing and looking straight at M, knowing she admired me and loved everything there was about me and I never even had a clue. It is even more challenging to write down in words how beautiful she was when I first saw her. All I can say is that I can still feel the excitement rushing through every vain in my body directly to my chest as I remember the moment M looked at me and smiled, showing with her  dark eyes that she knew I had been told about her secret obsession.



what if i miss it all?

will i have to sit at home and wonder how warm the sea is and how amazing the food is?


fucking passports pieces of shit
goddamn it


Inexplicable face

Me and you
and the illusions that twirl around the mind of mine

Me and you
and the loud music that tries to cover the drilling noises upstairs

Me and you
and all of the bodies I talk to

Me and you
and the girl of my dreams, the one with the inexplicable face

Me and you
and the music that is impossible to not move to

Me and you
and the mixture of clean and dirty clothes in the old white wardrobe

Me and you
and the wait for those days to come, 10 was it?

Me and you
and biking on that rusty red bike and always hoping it won't get stolen

Me and you
and how people ask what i'm knitting but i'm really just knitting

Me and you
and nothing else i suppose



What do you do, when you are almost certain you have fallen in love with someone who you have never seen in real life, only in pictures and in that dream last night? When it feels like you actually met her and she was secretly crazy about you, too?

This is ridiculously strange. I can feel the need to see her again, tonight, when I fall asleep, my chest feeling as it does when I'm nervous, filled with a sensation that cannot be written in words, but only felt. It's taking me over.


my head

jag mår inte bra

why now, why now?


4. The toast

"I would like to make a toast!"  Elin shouted, standing up a little too quickly and making a couple of empty plastic cups fall on the table. "Wooooops, sorry about that!" she said, slowly hitting her wine glass with the end of a spoon still covered in cheesecake, calling for attention from the rest of the table. "Clink, clink, clink", it echoed over the loud voices of the drunken friends. Someone lowered the music and in a few seconds the 22 guests sat silent waiting for Elin's speech.

"I am so happy to be able to be here with all of you! So many lovely faces, all together celebrating the beginning of this yet-to-be amazing summer" she said loudly. "I can't believe we have all graduated and now have the rest of our lives ahead, on this rocky road to success! It feels spectacular, don't you think?" she seemed so happy but also rather drunk. "I would just like to thank all of you for being here, even if I don't know or have met all of you before; I would also like to thank Erik specially much for letting us all be here and preparing some delicious food and finally, I want to wish you all a fantastic summer! Glad midsommar, skååååål!" 

 The 22 guests toasted and clapped after Elin's short speech. Someone asked to put the music back on and everyone got back into their small conversations with the people they sat next to. 



i seriously cant paint nails for shit
it is depressing

i mean, the fact that i bite them and
that they dont grow "straight", if you know what i mean...
it just makes it all worse

like they arent quite flat,
they're more like rough and edgy
ohhh does that even make sense....

nevertheless, i painted them and
it was a catastrophe on my right hand...
and it looks more or less decent on the left hand

i mean i guess its good i didnt use a bright color
so it doesnt show how bad it is

seriously dont look at my nails



oh thank goodness youre not in hospital because you tried to kill yourself
oh thank goodness that your parents didnt send you away to a crazy people's home
oh thank god your house didnt light up on fire and you're now living on the streets
oh thank god you didnt run away
oh thank goodness you werent locked up in the basement by ella going crazy-human-dog.
oh thank goodness youre okay



green energy

the days seem so monotone that i don't know what to write about.
this of course does not mean that i do not like these days, that begin with me trying to get out of bed by 8 o'clock to fix my sleeping schedule before exams, even if i start at 11 that day.
then i eat a healthy breakfast, because i cant just keep eating that LIDL granola that has 400 calories per serving even if it's really tasty. i mean, you want to fit into a nice prom dress without looking like a whale pregnant with tripplets, right sofia? drop the tasty LIDL granola. anyways..
then there's school and the boring lessons with teachers that no longer care if you learn the last bits of information before exams, or are really stressed out because every single student in the class seems to be a complete retard.
then there's the nice moments in school where we talk about prom, and our planned trip to spain, and our dresses, and the truck and just about how amazing it will all be so unbelievably soon.
school finishes and i come home, put my hair in a bun, put my yoga pants on and eat a snack while watching some crappy 4o'clock swedish tv show.
i usually go and sleep for an hour and then get up to eat dinner, then i study till its bed time (or not and go to bed thinking "wtf sofia its 20 days till exams, get your shit togetheeeeeeeeeeeer").

its quite nice isn't it?




what i do when i stop understanding the math problem


death in a tube

so im thinking i should probably write something on here,
before i lose all the little readers that i have.

so im thinking that i should not have put handcream on my dry dry hands,
now they sting and im having some sort of reaction to the handcream.

so im thinking i really miss him,
mom is a real bitch because she didnt let me sneak out and sleep at his place instead.

so im thinking whether i will actually manage to stay off facebook this time,
i've deactivated it like 5 times before and i dont last more than one week.

so im thinking my hands are still stinging,
now i have red dots on them.

so im thinking exams are in 30 days and shit is going down,
and then we'll be in spain and i'll get a tan and life will just be so much better.

so im thinking i really really miss him,
and yes, mom you're mean, i could be petting old ella right now in his big cold house.

so im thinking i should make some tea, move my desk to where i can actually sit
and start studying again.

so im thinking, where the hell did we buy that handcream?
it was death in a tube.

puss hej



I drank about half a liter or even more of banana milkshake about an hour ago and I'm finally recovering from the super filled stomach that forced me to lay on the couch and not move till I could actually breath again....... I had actually also made myself some sort of kebab wrap but that didn't go so well. Do not trust frozen kebab boxes from lidl, worst experience of my life.

I dont know, I've been quite happy lately, or well, simply not sad or melancholic like I usually am at least once or twice a week.
I have been very tired and it sucks to say I am still recovering from the flu I had almost two weeks ago.
I need to start going to the gym again and get my routines together. I'm thinking of taking a class tomorrow evening and from there try to slowly get myself back on track. I mean, I'm going to spain in about 60 days..... Cant quite walk around at the beach in thunder tighs and a huge belly now can we!! Oh I wish I wasn't so pressured by todays ideals....................... #fish

I need routine

and I should actually follow the routines I set up



The most recurring question in my head is "why did I get so lucky?"


moving pictures like in harry potter, yes they were just gifs

I'm chewing gum and listening to my amazing piano playlist
that never gets old because clasical music simply sounds different everytime
and its just so great to be able to listen to songs over and over again
because they're amazing

I borrowed mom's lamp and it was just infront of my webcam and
I guess you wonder why I take pictures like this
Well because when I grow old and wrinkly
I want to be able to see how unproductive and young I was
and how for some reason I wrote down my days
and took pictures of what I was going instead of homework.

Thats why, so don't go around thinking what is wrong with sofia, seriously who does that?- it's more like, why aren't you doing it too? #yolo



Today I finished a book before having breakfast.
Today I ate popcorn for lunch.
Today I have to do work work work work.
And tomorrow I have to do work work work.
And guess what? The day after too, work work work.

This is really last minute. What the actual fuck sofia, what the fuck.


things today with you

Better better
Better better better
Better :)


converse with me

Finally bought a pair of converse after having turned to boots all year long due to the swedish weather. I donno, I was gonna buy a pair of dark grey ones but these light grey ones were perfectly lovely.

I think I need new covers, mine keep getting stained by my sudden nosebleeds.

I like, I wish, I dislike.

I like drinking water with a lemon juice in it. 
I like writing the last number on the endless sudokus that I do before I go to bed.
I like talking to him because I shouldn't be talking to him.
I like low-cut white socks that show my ancles, but my boots have made them all blue.
I like smiling sympathetically at strangers at hospitals, saying with my eyes: "Oh, I'm sorry you're in pain too".
I like not being hungry in the mornings, it makes me less grumpy.
I like looking nice with no make up on.
I like my eye-lashes.

I wish we had a bathtub at home.
I wish the books we read at school were actually fun to read.
I wish I didn't have to do all this work I am completely uninterested in doing. 
I wish you'd realize this is stupid.
I wish my room was cleaner.
I wish I could wear shorts outside and tank tops.
I wish I could go flee-marketing again.
I wish I knew exactly how I feel about all this, so that I didn't have to lie in bed and wonder where it's all going.

I dislike that awkward Swedish thing that you do.
I dislike having to clean my room.
I dislike not finding the right socks in the morning.
I dislike your unclear mind.
I dislike your blurry personality.
I dislike that you don't actually tell me things.
I dislike that you sleep too much.
I dislike that you don't seem to care sometimes.
I dislike that you're so unnecessarily shy.
I dislike how you think people care so much about what you do and don't do when they're complete strangers.
I dislike this stupid flu/whatever else it could be/ was.
I dislike school to quite a large extent.
I dislike the way my room smells.
I dislike the freezing wind that has taken over sweden.
I dislike your laziness.
I dislike your lack of punctuality. 
I dislike your coat.


tumblr 25000

I never go on tumblr but today I liked these and now I'm going to bed. 


not afraid

There are things that I don't like. And I think I'm usually quite clear with people about these things. If you know me, you probably have experienced my typical angry serious voice telling you to stop what you're doing because I dislike it.

And it's not like the things I dislike are things that everyone likes, no. It's things like someone's little annoying games and tiring rude jokes, or something someone is doing that is bothering me or distracting me from something important or that I feel that someone is being rude towards me.

I don't see how that gives someone the right to be mad or surprised at my strong "serious" attitude. If I have told you plenty of times to stop doing something that bothers me, and it is obvious that I'm not having a good time, why in the world are you acting like it's my fault when I angrily tell you off? 

Mom says I'm too good for you and that you're a little shit who doesn't know how to treat me. Mom's usually right. 




She lies half naked in her big white bed. The air in the room doesn't feel so clean, it even feels a little moist. It must be because the radiator is on the warmest level- she thinks and turns it down.

The city isnt as loud as it usually is, it must be the hour of the night. She hears a couple of cars go by every other minute, instead of the constant noise that there is at any other point of the day. The strong wind is the one being noisy tonight.

She feels lonely. Something she hadn't felt in a while. When was the last time I felt like this?- she thinks.

The bleeding starts again, but luckily she manages to stop that one single drop of blood from falling onto her bed from her face as she sits up after feeling blood running down her throat.

Does that make sense? 

She still feels lonely, even after running to the bathroom shirtless, covered in blood, cleaning up her face after her nosebleed and then finally getting back into bed. And for some reason,  tonight, out of all nights, no one was talking. Or some did but then left her in her growing loneliness. I hope this feeling goes away when I wake up- she thinks.



My favorite person

"As I suck on the tiny last bit of my Bafucin and read your good-bye on Facebook  I realize how much my thoughts about you have changed. And how right she was, how right she is about what this has become.

I wish I had all the things I have written about you in a special folder, so I could look through it right this second and see how my words and feelings have developed over these short 8 months and 11 days, and even before that, when you were still not mine. So many sentences and emotions that you have made me write and feel, that you have made me experience and slowly change from pure lust, to wonder, to confusion, to joy, to sadness and finally love. 

Maybe I've written about this before, I am almost sure I have, but there is no harm in doing it again. This really isn't about the smell of your perfume anymore, or the perfect choice of shirts that you have, or how i absolutely love hearing you speak Swedish.  It's about more than that. It's about hearing your opinions on things you want to change, it's about the natural smell of your skin over the expensive perfume, it's about the way that I now somehow manage to sleep perfectly well next to you, maybe even better than when I'm alone- It's about loving every single bit that there is of you and finally realizing that I'm head over heels for you."

/a while ago

making faces

Totally not impressed by this halsfluss that has bothered me for 3 days now. Whatever you are, virus or bacteria, please leave the premises of my lovely tonsils that were perfectly fine before you came along. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than suffer talking, swallowing my own saliva and drinking water. Those better things to include a humongous pile of assignments that seem to never end.



Today I am sick.
Sick for the first time since around the middle of the summer.
Waking up was horrible, because I felt as if I hadn't even managed to get one hour of sleep.
The ache all over my upper body, my shoulders, my neck, my chest and the feeling of a horribly bruised back, it all came so quickly. 
That wasn't even the worst part.
The fever that wouldn't go down, reaching 38.7 or maybe even higher, I don't even remember because I was in so much pain. Being too cold and too warm at the same time, while my head felt as if it were to explode into 3 thousand different bits.
Then there was the throat. Simply swallowing my own saliva was like swallowing a hundred thousand rusty pins.
Time went by so slowly too.
I finally managed to get out of bed, half crying in pain, at around 9.30, woke up my brother and asked him to use his phone. He was still asleep so I took it and called mom, who wasn't home. 
I half-cried-half-told her that I needed her to come home and take care of me and bring me whatever could make me feel better- she told me to get in the shower to bring down my fever and told me she would be here as soon as possible.

Right now I'm feeling better, after at least 10 different pills through out the day. Except my throat, the tiny pins are still stuck to back of my mouth. Ahhhhhh the pain.

I'm gonna try to eat something and do more sudoku and miss alex helping me do them. 


sista februari

I've been eating a lot of mustard, cheese and ham sandwiches. As well as cereal with a bunch of seeds and yogurt. I've also been eating at least 2 bananas a day.

I've been drinking lots of water as I stay up late, till around 2 or 3 in the morning writing math words I don't quite understand.

I've been sleeping a maximum of 5 hours per night and then coming home from school and sleeping 3 hours more.

I've been doing Metros Sudoku on the train and even as I walk, trying to finish the last numbers, while listening to my spring spotify playlist, although it's march tomorrow and this winter will last at least another month.

I still hate when people smell bad and try to cover it up with strong perfumes and cheap deodorant. Or when I have to sit behind a girl with far too much perfume.

I was at the dentist today, she told me I had brush my teeth well but that I needed to use flux and floss more often. Today I bought flux, a new tooth brush, tooth paste and dental floss for about 150 kronor.

I sold a microwave for 250 kronor to my dad last weekend. We had an extra one and money is nice to have. However, mom wasn't too happy when she found out. "They cost 500 kronor Sofia *ugh-face*".

I should go back to my lovely math assignment. I've spent so much time on it these past few days that I feel strangely close to it..............



pallar inte matte

will it really be over tomorrow??????? do i have have the power to finish it?




the internet is a funny place.
its also specially interesting when i have to hand in a research paper,
which i have just started,
and was due 2 weeks ago.




things i hate:

being fat
eating badly
being hungry
skipping the gym
school assignments
falling apart from her

things i love:

my water bottle
when my bed is clean
not missing the gym
losing weight
hating school
getting school work done
fleet foxes on the train


the library

its strange i think. how im sitting in a library in a small town in sweden. watching people from the second floor, seeing shelfs and shelfs of books and still not being able to understand how i got here.

how the fuck am i sitting in this fancy library with a working laptop that i was given to by my own school? wearing relatively nice clothes, with a brand new jacket and listening to music on a new phone which i have already broken. how did i get so lucky? how in the world was i able to end up here, being born in a shitty country where things such as drug-wars and drug-lords exist? where hundreds of tons of marijuana and cocaine are found every week? here i sit, in this library, seeing the beautiful yet so annoying snow cover everything that can't move. trees, benches, paths, grass, roofs, houses. everything. where dealers sell crappy weed and the kids in school feel tough because they drug themselves and escape and modify their perfect realities. where we get so drunk that we can't remember how we got home after we wake up, safe in our beds, with a killer headache, pretending the morning after that we aren't hangover as fuck in front of our parents.

how the fuck? i guess the first answer is my parents. so much effort, so much stress and tears and happiness and finally divorce. if it weren't for them, i would be sitting in a shitty cold classroom, with a teacher who isn't respected by the students, with desks that are almost too broken to be used, with no free lunch, instead a crappy canteen that sells chips and coke, probably under extremely unhygienic circumstances. trying to study to find a job that i won't get or won't pay much at all. being assaulted by dirty men at any time of the day, going home on a crowded bus with plastic seats and no seat-belts. going home to watch tv and eat unhealthy foods, drinking bottled water and going to bed fearing that someone could break in.

but no

my reality is perfect. the possibilities of this happening were so minimal but yet it did happen.

i got so lucky.


3. Grocery shopping

"Why didn't he look back until now? He must've known that I was staring at him, it's been almost a couple of hours" thought Carl to himself. Dinner had started at seven and it was nine o'clock now. He wondered what had made him stare at Vicco for so long and with such an intensity. He had now memorised every gesture that he made, every color on his thin summer clothes. He had been staring for so long that he could almost feel the textures of it all; from his chequered white and green shirt, to his lightly tanned arms.

He now remembered meeting him a couple of times but never doing more than the typical hand-shake and saying "hej, Carl" to introduce himself. Vicco wasn't quite in his group of friends, but they had mutual friends and their social circles were definitely interlaced. They didn't graduate from the same school and Carl was almost certain that Vicco went to the posher one while Carl had done a sports program at Holmagymnasium. 

He pretended to be interested in the conversations going on all around him, but every 10 seconds he would look up and make sure that the so called Vicco was still sitting there, on the other end of the 5 meter long stained white table. "Was his name even Vicco?" Carl wondered. Maybe it was something else and Carl had simply misheard it every time. Vicco was a strange name and he didn't look Italian, as the name suggested.  His mom had always complained to Carl that he never listened properly and that he always messed up the grocery shopping because of that; instead of milk he would buy mint, when mint was absolutely useless on a Saturday morning, instead of juice he would buy yeast, which was useless because no one ever baked at home. His mom would always shake her head in annoyance and say "I should've told your sister to go to the shops instead, she would've gotten it right". His sister had just turned eight. "I love you too, mom" he would say in return and smile. 

So when Vicco finally looked up, after 2 hours of staring, Carl felt strangely accomplished and so unbelievably happy, even if it had only lasted a few seconds. He hadn't only felt the connection between their gazes, but also between their bodies and minds, as if invisible strings had drawn them together. During those seconds he could almost feel the strings drag him as close as possible to Vicco, even if they were at least 5 meters apart, with a massive table in between them.  Every muscle in his strong worked-out body tensed and his heart beat faster than ever, sending hot blood to every single area in his body. 

If only Elin hadn't interrupted that moment by saying something to Vicco. Ah, she'd known Elin for quite some time and had never quite liked her, she was too shy and quiet and seemed to be too smart for his liking. But when she drank she was a lot more interesting. Her annoying nerdy side was completely shut down by the alcohol and the girl was a real party animal. But during that moment, Carl hated her. He hadn't felt that good in months and she had destroyed the strings that had tied Vicco and Carl together for those 5 short seconds.



Today I woke up at 8 in the morning by a text from my dad. He was supposed to come over at nine, but was early, so I had to get out of bed at around 35 past 8 to make scrambled eggs with ham for me and him. He was actually a little late and got here at around 10 to 9 (when he texted me he'd said he would be here at quarter to 9). He was in his typical annoying morning mood, where he talks a little too much, a little too loud and a little too annoying-ish. As you might not know, I'm not usually a morning type of person and I like the quiet and prefer to eat or get ready alone, to the exception of waking up next to Alex, because that's almost always lovely. Sadly, I never manage to get him out of bed before 12 o'clock...
Anyways, today, dad's annoying morning conversation revolved around horse meat being served in schools instead of beef, how I could be eating horse meat in my school lasagna without realising it, how he could've ended on Wikipedia (his middle-age crisis includes being obsessed about how to end up on Wikipedia before he dies) if he'd been the one to start selling the unwanted meat to underdeveloped countries after the governments noticed the problem and wanted it all gone (according to dad, some guy bought all the horse meat that farmers were throwing away and started selling it somewhere, because after-all, horse-meat-eating is perfectly healthy) and how he said "yes, the machine is really making a mess" after I had said the coffee maker was clearly spilling water everywhere and how he looked around every drawer in our kitchen looking for the coffee, not finding it and then finally asking me where it was and remembering that I had told him where it was last week.

After writing all of this I realise how ridicuolus that man can be. I quite like him though.