Completely random thought from the other day:

There’s never been a generation more aware of their own sin. They might not categorize it as such, and they might try to cover it up – or cure it – with some twisted form of self acceptance. But don’t underestimate how much the world knows its judgement. And how much it acts in compensation for that.

(And of course let’s not skirt around the edges of chains, but let’s focus on how they fall.)


I am the master of sleeping the whole day, but I can’t do it when my life is just an open undefined un-planned white void of a future when I look at it in my head. So I have to make plans. Lately I’ve been making really detailed schedules. I don’t want to feel like I have to do that every day, but it’s good. Also there’s that leaf I picked while I was out biking and longboarding (between 10 and 10.30 am).


And here’s a cozy picture from last week, when my friend asked if we should drive to the national park closeby, bring a thermos with tea and watch the sunset. Life is v autumnal.


All Good Things Are Wild and Free

I stayed behind yesterday. We went downtown to have a photoshoot and I stayed when my friends went back. I walked around in that detached-from-reality kind of way and looked at how the city I stay in looks like a postcard. Clear skies and shiny metal buildings and palms and palms and palms, sun that makes your face melt off.



Then I sat down on the rocks and was happy.

And this might sound sad, but I loved going to a sea that wasn’t full of memories. In Sweden it’s tiny towns and cozy houses and driftwood, people with wrinkles too deep, an ocean that slowly breaks everything. Here everything just is. No childhood memories. Just sturdy rocks and people dancing.


The bridge before I ran over it.


The bridge after I ran over it, resting on a bench in the shade. My face was so red people gave me worried glances when they saw me.


My postcard wish is that you don’t send me home.

(Also, backstage from the photoshoot..:



All we do is gain or lose control

I wish I could lose control.

Splash colours until people cry by looking at them,

turn myself inside out and wipe my fucking blood on the canvas.

Instead I give up halfway through ugly eyes, drawn as if I were a pretentious 12 year old. Disproportionate figures and shapes that never become anything. The thing is, I don’t know how to draw. I repeat lines, and colours, look and remake, but when it comes down to my own expression, I’m empty. Just recreate by hands and in mind. Like we all do, are we nothing but radios? We understand something we think no one has understood before and we tell it or teach or live it. And even tuning in to that, the repetitiveness with which people think their minds are free, is just another of those realisations. Is that what I’ll blare about until the day I die?

Sometimes (too rarely) I forget to act normal in public and I sit weirdly curled up on the bus with the bumps shaking my handwriting. It’s slowing down though. Minutes of looking out the window between every sentence. My mad sadness settles into sleepiness. To quote a song that I like: I don’t know if this, is a surrender or a rebel.

Lack of school

For the first time in my life I don’t start school in the autumn. It’s weird, like one summer I just quit and didn’t come back. I can’t decide if that means my summer holiday is nonexistent – because I don’t have anything to take vacation from – or if it’s eternal. I would write more, but for some reason the words are running away from me. My thoughts want to stay in my head, or maybe I don’t know what I think. I’m scared, anyway. Terrified of the future, and whenever I tell someone my age, they say that they are too. That only sort of helps. I suppose the problem is that we don’t have any excuses left. We’re not stuck anymore. But we are. Stuck in our heads and stuck in the realisation that you need money for everything. Stuck in believing money is the necessary-iest. I don’t really know where to go, and all my energy goes to convincing myself that’s okay.

What do you want?

Ask yourself:
What do you really want?
What do you still want?
Here is my current list:
  1. Jesus
  2. Love (friends, family)
  3. Art, to live and breathe and soak in it
  4. Fresh flowers
  5. Happiness Truth
  6. To run away and see the world

Keep writing these lists. Find what doesn’t change.

Prom and Graduation Photobooomb

Because I realised I’ve forgotten to upload any of this.. Prom was great, but mostly due to the whole dressing up part, apart from that it was mostly a dinner and then going to the club. Graduation – I don’t even know – it was probably the most intense day of my life and now it feels like a dream, but in a good way haha. Anyway, let the photobombing start.

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Aaaand the day of my graduation. I realised these pictures might seem a bit strange if you’re not familiar with the classic Swedish graduation traditions, but well just.. don’t.. question it.

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If you’re in school, believe me when I say it will be over in the blink of an eye. Enjoy it. (But also remember that then the rest of your life starts, and that.. is gonna be good)



I swear to God I will never forget. I could write down page after page of the inside jokes, the memories and the stories from this week, but I prefer to keep them securely in my heart, just in my head and in the messy handwriting in my moleskine. I’ve been away to a youth camp where I always seem to spend the best weeks of my life, and I do not want to be here. I do not want to be home. I want to still be there, not thinking about the fact that the disadvantage of getting to know people from all over the world is that you can consider yourself lucky if you get to meet them once a year. And now I’m stuck in this room, in this house, in this city and in my school with these people. If I could, I would relive the weeks I spend at this camp over and over again for the rest of my life. I just want to go back.


I never used to like summer. It was too bright and too much and the sun kept bouncing of the pages in my books so that I had to go in or find a place in the shadow for it not to blind me. But now, now I’m a battery, constantly waiting for the sun to recharge me and warm my heart up enough for me to survive those long winter months, full of cold and never relaxing muscles. I think it’s a pity that we have to sleep. Were that not the case, I could see it all, stay up between sunset and dawn when it’s never really dark anyway because the sun may drop beneath the horizon, but never far enough that its light doesn’t still reflect on the cold sky. My creativity is fading though. Because I’m happy and some part of me doesn’t need the words flowing out of me at the moment, so I force them because it’s times like this I actually want to know how I feel.