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.



2. Five seconds

(Part 1, here)

They looked at each other for not more than 5 seconds, but to Victor, those 5 seconds might as well have been eternal. It felt as if they would sit there and stare at each other until their bones started rotting. Victor had never experienced time go by so unbelievably slow. If only that moment hadn't been interrupted by the girl sitting next to him.

"Hey Victor! You've been so quiet all night! Are you okay? You look a bit stressed out! Here relax, you can have some of my drink! Isn't it delicious?" said the girl.

Victor was  slightly annoyed by her, she was a bit too loud and he didn't want any of her awful drink. When she wasn't drinking, Elin was quite a nice girl, sociable, rather smart and also good looking. But at times like this, he hardly wanted to talk to her, everything nice about her slowly disappeared as she kept on drinking. "No, thanks, I'm fine with my cider. No, Elin, it's fine, I don't want any of it" he told her. 

"What is wrong with you Vicco? You've just been sitting there all night hardly talking to anyone! You're never like this, lets get you something more to drink!" she answered annoyed. She was right though. At parties, he would always be talking to everyone about everything, almost always ending up with Erika, the girl who he had a strange benefit relationship with. No strings attached of course, she was okay with that too. "Are you sad because Erika isn't here? I mean, I don't know why you guys don't get serious, it can't be healthy that way" she said again. "No Elin, it's not because of that. I don't know, I'm just a little tired, got other things on my mind" he said. "Well I say you should take some of this with me so we get all those boring thoughts out of your head!" "Alright fine, just so you leave me alone" he said jokingly. She gave him quite a tall shot that tasted of something he recognized but couldn't quite name. It was strong, but he hadn't been drinking enough for it to affect him.

She finally left him alone and started talking to someone else. Truth is, he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of the staring stranger. He didn't want to be how he was all the other nights, wasted out of his mind, saying things that didn't make sense to people he'd never met before. It sucked though, because people liked him that way. They thought he was fun and some even looked up to him. He liked it too, but it was so repetitive, every time was just like the last time. When would it finally be different?

Maybe tonight would be different and being a little bit more responsible with his drinking would be be the right thing to do.


being a motherfucking artist

(all pictures from my old tumblr, aka not mine)

do i want to be a motherfucking artist?
or a motherfucking architect?
is my mother right that i cant be a motherfucking nutriologist?
maybe i should just be a motherfucking designer and eat motherfucking good food for my own sake.

maybe i should just be spontaneous and study instead of whatever motherfucking job im expecting to get after graduation.
one of the reasons for not going into uni was because i hate school and im so motherfucking tired of it.
and yes, i motherfucking hate school but because of the wrong reasons.
i motherfucking hate it because i hate the subjects.
i couldn't care less about motherfucking businesses or environmental systems.
math is okay but i hate that motherfucking chapter 4 that just doesn't get in my head.

i like languages but there's no creativity in these lessons. do they want our brains to be motherfucking rotten by the time we're 25 because we didn't get our daily dose of motherfucking creativity?

i like arts and designs and spaces and buildings, but lately i'm so motherfucking lost that i forget what i like and how much motherfucking beauty i've seen in my life and how much i could use that in the future.

i love eating nice food too, i love cooking and experiencing new motherfucking tastes. being full of clean food that doesn't make me feel like motherfucking crap and makes me feel uncomfortably full. motherfucking salad doesn't do that, motherfucking oatmeal doesn't do that, motherfucking anything that doesn't have an excessive amount of fat or sugar or horrible carbs doesn't do that.

i don't know. i do think art is more needed than food. we can survive on almost anything but art makes us feel what we think we cant feel. paintings, buildings, drawings, industrial designing, the way your living rooms been set up, photographs, tattoos, clothes, writing, reading... motherfucking art is so goddamn important and so motherfucking amazing.

all this started because as i was eating my granola i told mom i maybe wanted to be a nutriologist. she said: that's crazy you've never been into that until now. do you want to do that for the rest of your life?

motherfucking life choices are getting annoying. but well, there's no way we can avoid them. they are motherfucking life choices.

i used motherfucking a lot in this text because as i opened up blogspot i thought "do i want to be a motherfucking artist?" and then i started writing. its a very vulgar word, isn't it? i definitely don't want my mother fucked, shes my mother, she knows me best and she's probably right about me not being a nutriologist.

i should be a motherfucking artist. of any kind of course, i hope that's clear.




-eating (mostly oatmeal and chicken)
-driving a car
-listing tasks prior to their happening
-feeling quite nice



not a good day today, or so it seems.
back to bed.




The line

She doesn't remember what they talked about, what they were doing, or why they were even there in the first place. The only thing she does remember is the cards. The games of cards over and over again. And the impulsive kissing in between the games.
Those lips that she had never kissed before, never felt before, never tasted before. It was all new in such an intriguing way, that midsummer night.
She still remembers those last few kisses given between the glass doors, as they said goodbye at 4 in the morning, hoping, wishing, maybe even expecting that it would turn into something more.


It's scary because it's starting to feel the way it did when it began the last time. It's just a ticking bomb, isn't it? It's always been there, being tossed between the two till it explodes on the one that held on to it for a little too long. It's like that for everyone isn't it?

For the old couples that die together, the first one to go leaves the other one with the lethal ticking bomb. No love is eternal.

It's like that for young divorced couples too, for young lovers, for friends, for family, for all sorts of loved ones. Love always ends, whether it's because of time, because of boredom, because of interest, because of disagreements, because of emptiness or because of death.

Theres always an end.

/s listening to video games and feeling deep on 171 to lund

Edit: No, I was wrong. It's not a ticking bomb. It's simply amazing.

las cuatro de la tarde

SVT1 on the big TV.
I'm quite unsure on whether I'm home alone or not.
I think I might be.

I want more potato thing and I think I might get some more.
As well as water, water's nice.

If only this true blood episode would download faster.

This is so pointless.
Are you still there?