According to Annika

The Wake-Up Call.

2012-02-28T16:07:00.005+01:00

Biianka has nothing whatsoever to do with the content of this post. She's just too darn cute not to be in it.

It's been seven weeks since my surgery. The snow is starting to melt, and I am starting to heal. And think. Make plans.

When I first found out about my cancer, I thought is was so ridiculously unfair. "Isn't cancer supposed to be a wake-up call, a reminder that life is precious and evanescent, a chance to appreciate what you have, to gain perspective on things and to start focusing on what really is important? Well come on, Universe, I've already done all of this! Losing my best friend to cancer was all the reminder I needed that life can be taken from you at any moment, thank you very much - do you seriously need to rub it in? What more do you want from me?!"

Obviously, the truth is that no, cancer is not a wake-up call. Cancer is a shitty fucking bastard of a disease, completely without rhyme or reason. It has no idea what's fair and what isn't, and honestly it couldn't care less.

But that doesn't mean we can't still choose to see it that way.

Fanny didn't survive her cancer, I did. (Knock on wood.) She gained all kinds of perspective, I'll tell you that - I didn't have the privilege of knowing her before she got sick the first time, while she was still in high school, but I do know that when she got through it, she decided to live her life to the absolute fullest. I've never met anyone so keen on following her dreams, on experiencing every single thing life had to offer, on leaving a positive, inspirational imprint on every person she came in contact with.

The second time Fanny got sick, her view on life did not exactly change, but it definitely evolved. She realized that some of the things she had been working so hard for didn't really matter, and that she wanted to focus all of her energy on what was truly meaningful. And she did. I just wish, with all of my heart, that she would have had the chance to keep on doing it for at least another 70 years.

I learned so much from her. When she was healthy as well as when she was sick. After she passed away, I tried so hard to live in a way she would have encouraged. But I simply couldn't. I only knew how to live my life with her in it.

So: I do choose to see my illness as a wake-up call. Because although I already knew all too well that none of us will live forever, I still didn't have the strength, the energy or even the desire to make the rest of my life count.

I had surgery. They took the cancer out. It might come back, but also, it might not. Either way, I've been given a new chance, and I'm taking this opportunity to make some radical changes. I have had a lot of time to think about what kind of life I want to live, what I truly want to do, and for the first time in years, I've actually listened to myself. Instead of just dismissing my dreams as unrealistic, unreasonable, "impossible", I've decided to break down these stupid boundaries I've set for myself and do whatever it takes to make these dreams come true.

I do realize that this post might seem more than a little obscure and vague, and I'm sorry about that, but I've really tried to share my thoughts without giving out more than I'm comfortable with.

What I'm trying to say with this post is that though I don't believe that bad things happen to us "for a reason", that doesn't mean we can't still try our very best to learn from them, and we should take every opportunity to give our choices and decisions some serious thought. Are we being true to ourselves? Are we doing with our lives what we really want, or are we simply too scared to admit to ourselves that we were wrong, that we made our decisions based on other people's expectations, or that we simply have changed our minds?

Whatever the answer is, I hope and pray that you won't need a wake-up call like mine to make the changes necessary for living the kind of life you desire and deserve.

Please, please, please.

2012-02-04T15:59:00.000+01:00

Today is World Cancer Day.

I spend this day missing my best friend Fanny just as much as I always do. Donating what I can to her personal fund at Cancerfonden (a Swedish organisation for cancer research), wishing for the 1034039486034980th time that I was a billionaire who could actually make a goddamn difference. Telling myself that together we might just might a change, that one day the scientists will crack the code and we won't have to lose our loved ones or our own lives to this disease.

Doubting,

hoping.

But right now, I need to ask you this:
Please go do your pap smears (I promise you it's not scary at all, it doesn't hurt and it's over before you know it!),
please stop smoking or just don't start,
please wear sunscreen (with a high SPF!) and stay in the shade when you can,
please be observant and attentive to any changes in your breasts, birthmarks or anywhere else on or inside your body,
please don't hesitate to see a doctor when you're worried that something's wrong,

and please, please, please, donate a dollar or a hundred or whatever you can spare to cancer research, because we can do our best to minimize the risks, but the truth is that however hard we try, we are never safe.

We're all playing the lead in our own lives, we feel sheltered by the fact that we're different, special; by our hopes and dreams and amibitions, by the things we own and by how busy we are, by our faith, by mere chance ("after everything I've been through these past few years, there's no way I could get sick on top of it all"), by the people who love us and the ones we've touched. Absolutely impossible to imagine that the script could change from a heartbeat to the next, that the play could simply go on without us.

And still, 7.6 million people die of cancer every year. 7.6 million individuals who are no less special than you or me.

This all sounds terribly melodramatic, I know. Well, that's the thing about cancer. It's not a whole lot of fun. Actually, it's pure fucking crap and I wish from the bottom of my heart that it can, and will, be cured. And rather sooner than later. Please?

Snapshots.

2012-02-03T13:45:00.002+01:00

Springtime might still be far away, but I strive to create my own spring indoors. A complete excess of tulips goes a long way!

My cats are weird as always.

But that's okay, because so am I.

My least favorite time of the day: 8 pm. I need to inject myself with an anticoagulant (blood thinner) every night to prevent blood clots. Let's just say I don't love it.

Mjölkstuvade makaroner and meat balls. Mmmm. That I love. My favorite meal when I was a kid, actually, it sort of still is. That and lobster, though preferably not at the same time.

What's with the expressions?! You guys scare me. Good thing you're so cuddly off camera.

I can't remember the last time I got this much reading done. I've gotten through six novels since my surgery, which is pretty insane, considering that I've been asleep about 99% of the time. (At least that's what it feels like.) Reading is the one thing I have energy for. That, and watching Gossip Girl, Glee and silly romantic comedies.

All right darlings. That's it for now. You are all wonderful, in case you didn't know.

I can't wait.

2012-01-30T14:20:00.003+01:00

Eighteen days have passed since my surgery. I've been wanting to update you all, so many times, but for some reason I have no idea what to write. This is a journey I find incredibly difficult to share, especially since I can't control who I share it with.

I used to think that as long as what I wrote didn't affect anyone around me in any negative way, I could let it all out. I considered nothing as "too personal".

Until now. This is too personal. I'm not comfortable writing about what my life is like, at least not now, while I'm right in the middle of it. Not because it's sad or tragic or anything of that sort. It's just... mine. My struggle, my thoughts, my feelings - and for once, it has to stay that way.

But I can tell you this: I've had a few complications, different infections that have kept me in the hospital a lot more than I would have wished, but now I'm back home and I'm doing allright. My pain is manageable, I'm getting used to giving myself injections (to prevent blood cloths) every night, when I don't throw up from infections or the medication I can eat quite normally. My incisions are healing, the swelling has started to go down - basically, everything is heading in the right direction, with a couple of small exceptions that I hope will sort themselves out all in due time.

In two months I'll find out if I've healed the way I'm supposed to - on the inside (physically, not emotionally... you know what I mean) - and then... Then I'll just have to find a way to live my life again. To be honest, I simply can't wait!

I just thought you should know...

2012-01-12T21:25:00.000+01:00

...that apparently you all kept your fingers most brilliantly crossed for me, because the surgery went so, so, so well.

THANK YOU.

Keep your fingers crossed?

2012-01-12T08:26:00.002+01:00

When these (pre-scheduled) words are posted, I will be in surgery. It's a type of procedure where I won't know what has been done, or what will happen next, until I wake up.

I tried to write quite the lengthy explanation here, wanting to tell you all I know about the surgery, but it just got way too complicated. Maybe it will be easier to talk about it when it's all done, maybe it won't; all I know is that this is one of the scariest things I've had to go through so far, and right now all I wish is that you send a thought my way, hoping I wake up to the best news possible. It'd mean so much to me if you would.

All my love,

Where the heart is.

2012-01-10T21:02:00.000+01:00

This is the last night I'll be spending at my house for a while. You can be sure I'm savouring every moment. Actually, I always do.

Because my house - and, especially, those who happen to live here with me - are freakin' awesome. Top notch! Crème de la crème!

I really am one lucky gal.

Happy New Year.

2011-12-31T15:58:00.000+01:00

May 2012 be your best one yet.

The Best I Can.

2011-12-17T21:12:00.000+01:00

I am starting to think that expressing my thoughts and feelings with anyone who cares to read this blog might not be such a good idea right now.

Deciding what to share and what not to is getting more and more difficult. I have received such an enormous amount of support from many of you, and for this I will be forever grateful - I cannot thank you enough. It has also been brought to my attention that a very large number of readers have had pap smears done since my diagnosis, which is simply amazing to hear!

But. Inviting everyone and anyone into my personal life during this process has had some not exactly pleasant results as well, and I'm just not sure I can - or want to - deal with that at the moment. I don't need to hear that I have a terrible attitude, that I'm overreacting, that I ought to pull myself together, that I'm handling things the wrong way, that I'm whiny, self-pitying, that other people are in much worse situations and that I'm being ungrateful for everything I've got that others don't. Seriously. I do not need to hear this. Trust me: I know things could be worse. And believe it or not, I'm doing everything in my power to lead a life as normal as possible. Obviously I am. Writing about how hard it can be to stay positive does not mean that I don't do my very best to keep a bright outlook. I might feel sorry for myself at times - or rather, scared out of my mind - but I believe that I am allowed to feel like this, I'm allowed to cry and whine and not get out of bed until noon, just like I'm allowed to laugh and be silly and go to Paris and wrap Christmas presents and anything else I feel like doing. Either way: I'm doing the best I can.

Most of you know this. Thank goodness. But others don't. And yes, it hurts. It makes me feel like an idiot for letting these people into my private sphere when I'm more vulnerable than I've ever been before. Still, I don't regret doing it, because so many good things have come from it. I'm just not sure whether to keep it up. I get a knot in my stomach every time I see that I've received a new comment or e-mail, afraid that it says something hurtful that will keep me awake at night, and noone benefits from that.

Today, for the first time, I wanted to delete this blog, as well as my e-mail account. But I truly hope it won't have to come to that. I want to save all your incredible comments and letters, and I don't want a few people's lack of respect and empathy to ruin something that I've loved doing. Like I said, I'm not sure what to do about it, but whatever I decide, I want you to know how much I appreciate all the beautiful words you have shared with me this past month (and long before that, of course). THANK YOU.

My Own Private War.

2011-12-16T02:41:00.001+01:00

Just to let you know: I'm allright.

There's no point in denying that I've definitely been better, but I manage, and I haven't received any bad news. Quite the opposite, actually: The test results I got back did not show any signs of the cancer having spread. That doesn't necessarily mean that it hasn't, but it does mean I can have surgery - and that there's a chance I won't need chemo and radiation. After the surgery they'll analyze everything they removed, and then we'll know for sure what needs to be done.

On Tuesday, I'm going to meet with the surgeons to discuss what type of surgery will be performed and hopefully find out when it will take place. I really, really, really, really, really want to get it all over with as soon as possible. It's exhausting, walking around knowing that my body is fighting its own private war, and that there's nothing I can do to help.

I must have thought a thousand times that I ought to update the blog, but it's like... I don't know what to say. I'm afraid I haven't exactly been in touch with my feelings lately. I'm sort of trying to keep them at arm's length, you know? I can't keep up the constant crying, it drains me, I need a break from those useless tears. Writing blog posts means having to focus on what's actually going on, and I'm not up for that.

Someone commented that maybe I could write about other things for a while; books, music, movies, everyday life... And I wish I could. Hopefully I'll be able to, later. But as hard as I might try to keep my feelings at a distance, I honestly can't concentrate on anything except this. These [insert various X-rated profanities here] circumstances. I try to distract myself any way I can think of, and yet all I truly want to do is close my eyes and scream, because it's all so ******* unfair. Come to think of it, I probably would, if I didn't know how scared the cats would be. Loud noises are one of their least favorite things, right up there with closed doors, rain, our neighbours' devil of a cat Sotis, having to stay inside for a whole day and one of their toys being stuck somewhere they can't reach it.

I'll try to stay in touch. I really will. And don't worry about me, please - if I receive bad news, I'll let you know. But I can't even tell you how much I hope I won't have to. I'm done with bad news. They seriously suck. I'm done.

One other thing: All I want for Christmas is that all of you who haven't had a pap smear lately will get your adorable asses over to a health care centre and get yourselves checked out. Oh, and quit smoking (or simply don't start). Just... take care of yourselves. Pretty please?

Not all butterflies and rainbows.

2011-12-05T00:25:00.002+01:00

Last week, I was out walking with my mother. It had been raining heavily, and we came across this beautiful heart-shaped puddle of muddy water. As cheesy as it might sound, I considered it a sign that love is all around us, everywhere, if we just keep our eyes open and choose to see it.

While walking, my mom asked how I felt about my decision to share the fact that I'm sick, with acquaintances as well as strangers. I told her that I couldn't really see that I had an option. Ever since I started blogging, and then, later, writing columns about my life for newspapers and magazines, I've been almost awkwardly open about many of those things others would consider "private". I'm so used to sharing my innermost thoughts with anyone who cares to read about them - how could I possibly stop now? No, I told my mom, I'm definitely sure I did the right thing by telling.

Being diagnosed with cancer is obviously nothing to be ashamed of, and if even just one woman reads about what's happened to me and thinks "maybe I should schedule an appointment for a pap smear screening", it's all worth it.

If I had decided to keep my disease quiet, not only would I have been deprived of the amazing emotional outlet this blog provides, but also of the massive amount of love and support I have received from all of you. And one ought not to underestimate the power of healing, caring thoughts being sent one's way.

But, as with most big decisions, it's not all rainbows and butterflies to sharing something as sensitive as a cancer diagnosis. I'm terribly fragile in many ways, and consequently I react strongly to things which never would have bothered me before. This means that some comments and e-mail, though clearly 100% well-meaning and meant to cheer me up, sometimes manage to acquire the opposite. The content of these comments and letters can be devided into three different categories, and since I'm apparently all about sharing, I will also share these with you. Many of you who read this blog will have left me comments or e-mailed me saying things similar to what I'm about to write, and I will say right now: I do appareciate your care and support, so much. I really, really do. It's nothing personal against you whatsoever, and I would probably have done the exact same thing. I couldn't have guessed, myself, how I would feel about this. Everyone reacts differently.

What I'm having trouble with (while feeling particularly down):

1. The recommendations of alternative treatment methods as opposed to traditional medicine.

I simply feel that telling a person who suffers from cancer not to accept scientific medical treatment is dangerous. Of course there are many opinions about how to treat diseases, and everyone is entitled to their own, but I personally do not believe that healing, changing my diet or any other non-traditional method is going to work better than what my doctors can do for me. After being told twenty times absolutely not to trust my doctors, I've started feeling a bit uneasy. I need to trust my doctors. You know? I need to fully believe, to have complete faith, that they have the ability to save my life. In other words, I wish everyone else would have faith in my doctors as well, and not tell me they shouldn't be trusted.

2. The "mind over body" idea.

I do think that having a positive outlook is of immense help to a sick person. I do believe that a doctor telling you she's given you medicine for your pain can make it hurt less, thanks to the placebo effect. But I do not believe looking at the bright side of life (insert whistle here) can cure cancer.

People encouraging me to try and stay positive, to focus on the good thoughts as intently as possible, I truly appreciate that. Unfortunately I'm not very successful at it, constantly drifting off to those horrifying "what ifs", but in theory I fully support the idea that a positive attitude will help you through hard times. The problem arises whenever I'm told that if I really want it, I'm going to make it. That it's all in the attitude. That if I only have faith, I will live.

It's not all in the attitude. It's not about who wants it the most. Trust me, I know. If it were true, my best friend Fanny would be at my bedside right now, holding my hand, helping me through this just as I tried with all my might to help her.

Fanny was the strongest, most determined person I've ever met. She was clear right from the start: she was not giving up. She was not, not, not going to die. She would fight, and she would win. She had faith, she had hope, she had such unbelievable strength. She believed in miracles. When the doctors told her there was nothing more they could do, that they wanted to stop her treatments to make her more comfortable, she told them, without the slightest bit of hesitation, to keep going. When they told her there was nothing more to try, she told them to keep looking.

She bought new, warm boots in September, because she knew we were going to take long walks together that winter, and who wants cold feet?

We laughed for hours, every time we were together. We talked about everything, the normal things, things that might not matter to someone who's about to die, but that are of great importance to someone with a long, happy life ahead of her.

She did everything right. And she didn't make it. On September 21st, last year, she died. She was so incredibly brave, so wondrously loved, and in the end, it didn't make a difference.

So please, please, don't tell me I will make it if I want it enough. The loved ones we lose don't leave us because they're not thinking the right thoughts.

But - you're right, a positive attitude is important. Maybe even essential. Because I am sure that the will to live can keep someone alive longer than she otherwise would have, and with every passing day, there are new discoveries in the medical research. Tomorrow, there could be a cure. All anyone can do is their very best to live through the night. And then the next.

Just remember that if the people you love don't live to see that cure, it's not because they didn't want to.

3. The "I've been there" from those who haven't.

When you go to a gynaecologist and have a pap test ("cellprov" in Swedish) - which you should do regularly: it takes five minutes, is painless and it can save your life - you might get a letter sent home telling you that they have found pre-cancerous changes ("cellförändringar" in Swedish). They will then ask you to come back for a second test, a colposcopy, to decide if anything else needs to be done. Many of these pre-cancerous changes simply disappear by themselves, other need to be removed by a simple surgery, a conization.

All of this is very, very scary. No doubt about that. But it does not mean that you have cancer. In Sweden, 30 000 women every year are told that they have these pre-cancerous changes. Actually, it's so common that you will probably get them, too, at some point in your life. (That's why you need to make sure to do these pap smear screenings!) Out of these 30 000 Swedish women, around 400 get diagnosed with cervical cancer. In other words: less than 1,5%. (Not of all women, of those with these pre-cancerous changes.) If it turns out you do have them, with 98,5% certainty, you are still perfectly fine, and you have every reason to be grateful that they were found before they had the chance of turning into something else.

And still, you're scared. Because there is a 1,5% risk you might have cancer. Then you find out that you don't, but that you should be careful and never miss a pap smear, since they could come back.

Or maybe, maybe you turn out to be in the not-so-lucky group. Maybe you're told that you do have a tumour, that you won't be able to have kids, that you will go through extremely challenging treatments, that you might die. Five years after they've been diagnosed with cervical cancer, one out of three is dead from her disease. The more advanced the tumour is, the less uplifting these number become.

I'm obviously new to all this. But I've received lots of support from women who have already been through it all, and made it out on the other side. They might still be afraid of what the next test will show, but they are alive. Hearing from these women means so much to me, I can't even begin to describe it.

I also hear from a huge amount of girls and women who have been told that they have these pre-cancerous changes, and who are very upset about what's happened to me. I try to tell them that for them, it will most likely - 98,5%, remember? - turn out to be nothing, and that it's great that these changes has been found and can be removed or closely watched.

But. Then there are the women who have, or have had, these pre-cancerous changes. Who tell me that they know exactly how I feel right now, that sure, it was scary and hard for them as well, but they're fine today, and I will be, too. This brings out a part of myself that I'm not at all proud of. A voice inside my head starts screaming: "no, no, no, you don't! You don't know how I feel, because it's not the same!". I know this is childish, I know they all mean so well, but I can't help it. Because it isn't the same. Not even a little bit. Which is good - I'm glad these women don't have to feel the way I do. I'm glad noone has told them that they have cancer, that their lives will change forever.

The truth is, we can never know exactly how someone else feels. And that's okay. We just shouldn't claim to, either.

I sincerely hope noone feels offended by this post. That was never my intention. This is simply how I feel, and since this blog is supposed to be an outlet to my feelings, I had to write it.

And everyone who comments and sends me e-mail: THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you. I might not think positive energy makes the final difference between life and death, but it sure makes my chest swell with pride and joy, and the days a lot easier to get through. You are all wonderful.

A quick update: Please don't read this post and try to figure out if maybe I'm referring to your specfic comments! I feel oh so guilty when you do! This honestly isn't anything personal against any one person or even any particular message. You should absolutely not apologize. Showing support and compassion to someone who needs it is always a beautiful thing. But, a lot of people have told me that they don't know what to say to me about this whole situation, and since I believe that's a very common problem - one that I, myself, have trouble with when it comes to others - perhaps it could be interesting for us to reflect on. And I would rather share my opinion now, than maybe fail to appreciate your amazing support in the future, wishing I should have spoke my mind earlier. I love you and I cherish each comment dearly.

Keeping my Eyes on the Prize.

2011-12-01T19:21:00.001+01:00

Dear friends and strangers,

I'm back from three days at the hospital.

The cancer ward looked exactly as I remembered it. It was quite the peculiar experience - I even recognized a couple of the nurses. You see, I spent a lot of time at this particular hospital, this particular ward, last year. The wonderful people there did everything they could for my best friend, just like they're going to do everything they can for me. And even though they weren't able to save my darling girl, that doesn't mean I'm not going to make it. That's what I keep reminding myself. Over and over.

I've been tested, examined, run through every kind of x-ray machine. The results will be analyzed by the end of next week. Hopefully we will get some answers then. Good or bad - at least we will know. Know what it is we're dealing with, what the next step will be.

But, until then, I will celebrate my boyfriend's birthday, keep reading Harry Potter, enjoy the company of my family, and try really, really hard to keep my eyes on the prize: that moment when my brilliant doctor tells me I'm cured, healed, cancer-free. There's a long way to go, I know, but I'm prepared to walk, run, crawl, squirm, get dragged if I have to. I will get there.

I'll do everything. Anything.

Because what else is there?

♥

Fighting the Forbidden Thoughts.

2011-11-22T23:07:00.002+01:00

First of all: I am completely overwhelmed by your support. It is simply unbelievable, and it means the world to me. It truly does. THANK YOU.

Today, eight days has passed since I found out that... that I'm sick. And I still know absolutely nothing about what's going to happen. My mom called the hospital this afternoon and was told that there will be at least another week, probably more, before the tests will start.

In other words, I'm waiting. And waiting.

I go for walks every day. I read Harry Potter. I eat, I sleep, I floss, I take my vitamins and pay my bills. I do everything I can to keep my head above the surface.

Waiting.

Trying to get through each day. Trying to keep it together. Trying not to give in to those dark, appalling, paralyzing thoughts. Trying, but not always succeeding.

I feel like the sky is falling and the ground is crumbling beneath my feet and I'm trying so, so hard to keep my balance, but I can't help thinking: why fight to keep steady if the world is coming to an end?

But I'm not allowed to think like that. Those are the Forbidden Thoughts. Because I need to stay positive, I need to be determined, confident that I can beat this.

And there they are again, those thoughts: When was I last positive, determined, confident? Am I supposed to suddenly start feeling more positive, determined, confident now that I've found out I have cancer? How?

Forbidden, Forbidden, Forbidden.

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, go away.
Good thoughts, good thoughts, here to stay.

Thank you for believing in me. For being so unbelievably caring, supportive, understanding, loving. Thank you.
I really, really need it.

The C-Word.

2011-11-16T16:16:00.001+01:00

"Bad things happen, all the time, sure. But they won't happen to me."

You know that feeling, right? I used to think like that, of course I did. Then my best friend found out that she had cancer, for the second time. And then she died. And I stopped thinking that bad things can't happen to me. When I lost her, I also lost that naive yet comforting feeling of being safe, sheltered, protected. It happened to Fanny, and it could happen to me.

Now it has.

On Monday morning, at 9:55, my phone rang. The call lasted for less than a minute. A nurse told me that they had gotten the test results back from the surgery I had two weeks ago, and asked me to come in right away. And not to come alone.

I knew. Obviously I knew. There was no other explanation.

Ronnie and I met up with my mom and step-dad at the hospital at two in the afternoon. Went up to the sixth floor. Were called into a tiny examination room.

"Well", said the doctor, "unfortunately we found cancer".

This was less than 50 hours ago. We still know very little about what's going to happen. All I do know is that I have cervical cancer and that I have a severely difficult time ahead of me. And that I'm scared out of my mind.

I'm not yet sure what I'm going to do with the blog. I have no idea how much I'll want to share about what's to come. But I knew straight away that I want you guys to be aware of what's going on. Partly because you have been a wonderful support to me so far, and I wouldn't want to deprive myself of that support in the future. I really think that would be stupid, since I now need it more than ever.

I'll be doing my best to stay strong, even though right now I have no idea how. I have to do everything I can to get through this. Because no matter how much I love and miss my best friend who's my angel in heaven, I'm hoping not to be reunited with her just yet. Maybe in sixty years or so.

Hopefully everything will work out great and I will be healthy and happy in no time. That's what I'll be praying for. I'd truly love it if you'd do the same.

PS. I'm sorry, but I probably won't be able to return comments or e-mail any time soon. There's simply too much going on. But of course I read every word and appreciate any kind of support endlessly. DS.

Kitty Cuddling.

2011-11-13T20:24:00.001+01:00

Hey, look, I made a little something! A video for everyone who loves cats as much as I do. Starring Biianka and Baryshnik, a.k.a. my favorite fur-balls in the whole world. I'm hoping you'll watch it and go "aaaaaaaaw"!

Sun-drenched memories.

2011-11-13T13:06:00.000+01:00

Sure, I might complain a lot about the summer heat, but seeing these photos, I'm ready to take it all back. I can't even being to explain how much I miss it! I miss the long days, the sensationally beautiful light, my summer wardrobe; I miss the green, the flowers, the bare legs. Hell, I even miss the bugs! (Nope, that was a lie.)

It's no wonder I can't take any pretty outfit photos anymore - I never get dressed in anything but sweatpants except when I go somewhere for the day, and when I come back, it's already pitch black outside. Not to mention that winter is starting to creep up on us, and the heavy coats and layers of thick woollen tights don't seem to translate that well onto photos. It's hard to imagine that I actually posted new outfits every day for months!

And also... I can't help thinking that I was happier back then. I know, intellectually, that things weren't better. But I don't think I was this sad, this low. Maybe I'm just fooling myself, I can't tell. All I know is that I would love to close my eyes, mutter a spell under my breath and be back in one of those sun-drenched photographs. Mosquito bites and all.

Movie night.

2011-11-12T15:31:00.001+01:00

Taking some time off from the blog is probably good for me - I'm reading so much more, and watching way more movies when I don't sit at the computer all day - but I really do miss my, you know, "committed" blogging. Well, hopefully I'll feel better soon and have more energy to photograph outfits and write long posts! Until then, I'm making the most of all my free time. Tonight, I'm going to the movies with my boyfriend and my baby sis Amanda. I don't get out of the house much nowadays, so I'm thrilled to put on a pretty dress and actually go somewhere with the people I love! And I'll admit, I can't wait to stuff my face with the greasiest popcorn I can find...

Tiny, round and delicious.

2011-11-11T13:43:00.000+01:00

I don't like to cook. Sure, I do it, and the food always (ok, usually) turn out good - but I don't enjoy it. It's sort of a vicious cycle; because I don't like doing it I can never bring myself to until I'm so hungry I can barely stand up, and then how could it be pleasurable? I wobble at the stove, trying to make the ingredients cook faaaaster by giving them the evil eye, and when it's finally done I wolf it down, barely tasting it.

Except when it comes to pancakes. I love making - and eating - pancakes, always have - especially these small Swedish ones called "plättar". You eat them with jam and a glass of milk and they're delicious. Luckily, my boyfriend loves them too, so he doesn't mind that they're pretty much all I cook! I guess they're techincally more of a dessert, since they're not exactly full of healthy nutrition and protein, but it's my favorite thing to have for lunch.

Do you guys like to cook, or do you have one dish that you consider your "specialty" and that you could eat at least once a week for the rest of your life? (Or maybe that's just me!)

What goes up, must come down.

2011-11-09T13:53:00.001+01:00

Unlike his sister - no offense, Bii - Baryshnik is awesome at climbing trees, up as well as down. Or, usually he is. Yesterday, it seems like he left all his downward climbing skills in a drawer somewhere. He chased a squirrel up a tree - and then he was stuck.

My poor baby was squealing his most pityful "mommy help I'm gonna faaaall"-meeeeow over and over, giving me the most resentful look; I'm pretty sure it meant "you climb trees all the time for Biianka, what the hell are you doing just standing down there?!".

I thought to myself that a) Bii doesn't go off chasing squirrels, she climbs trees because the mean Sotis is after her and she's scared to death, b) she really doesn't know how to get down, and Baz sure does, c) I climbed up after her once - in complete darkness - because I was certain she was going to fall down and die, and afterwards I realized that I was extremely lucky not to fall down and break my neck myself, so I've promised my mom I'm not going to do that again. But of course I didn't tell Baz any of this, since he was genuinely scared and needed my support, not a lecture.

And eventually, after 30 minutes of hard thinking, he seemed to remember that he actually knows how to get down. So he did. I caught him in my arms and carried him inside where we did some serious mommy-baby-cuddling until he felt all safe and confident again. All's well that ends well.

Right - Baz also wanted me to tell you that the tree grows in a really deep ditch, so it is actually much taller that it looks. Which means that the whole thing was scarier than you might think. That's an important fact. Super important.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”

2011-11-08T15:49:00.002+01:00

Trying to get the cats to come over and be adorable in front of the camera. Didn't work.

Knitted cardigan, Indiska. Grey and white knitted hat, Nelly. Mustard t-shirt, Monki. Dark blue jeans, Dr. Denim. Black biker boots, Scorett.

(Photos by me.)

Yesterday I needed to take a new byline photo for a magazine, so I dragged myself outside and got it over with. I figured that since I was out anyway, I could just as well snap some shot of this "outfit". I'm not sure it deserves to be called that - to me, an outfit indicates a certain process of thought. This is more like the clothes I put on, probably beacuse they were at the top of one of the many, many piles of clothing spread out around the house. Consciously or not, I felt pretty cute and cozy in all that knit.

Now I'm off to see my psychologist for the last time. I decided the kind of psychotherapy she practices isn't for me, at least not right now, and next week I'm going back to CBT instead. I'm really nervous that she'll be upset with me for quitting after only two months, or feel insulted that I don't think our sessions are helping me... But I realize I can't keep doing it just to keep her happy. Christ, I'm not that messed up!

On and on and on and on.

2011-11-07T14:07:00.002+01:00

This is a fun video and a great song by an awesome artist. Oh, and I'm in it. So watch it if you want!

Update: Alright, I'm really sorry - something clearly went wrong with the upload. It should be all taken care of now.

Peace of Mind.

2011-11-06T14:54:00.000+01:00

In case you haven't noticed, I'm taking some time off - not only from blogging, but from everything that has to do with computers or the internet. Instead, I'm reading all the books I've been longing to sink my teeth into, catching up on my sleep, spending time with Ronnie who is finally back home.

This is not a "blog break" of any kind; I'll still post here whenever I feel like it, but I'm not going to feel obliged to. Hopefully you'll give me a week or two of rest without forgetting about me completely - but then again, if you do, I promise I won't hold it against you! ;)

I don’t really see how things will improve if all you want is to stay loose.

2011-11-04T15:46:00.002+01:00

Bright orange sheer blouse, "Lindy", Monki. Black coat with shoulder details, Romwe. Light grey knitted over knee socks, Asos. Black Everest boots, Jeffrey Campbell.

(Photos by me.)

I'm not feeling that great; haven't left the house since we got back from the hospital and yesterday I didn't even turn on the computer (seriously, that basically never happens!). But today I remembered these photos that I took a week ago and then never posted, of my gorgeous Romwe coat with "gold" buttons and shoulder details. Now at least you have an awesome coat to rest your eyes on until I'm back on track. ;)

Oh, and these shoes happen to be one of the pairs I would choose to keep if I had to get rid of all but five. Find out what other pairs would get to stay in my wardrobe, what I'd do if I won a crazy amount of money and what shoes are next on my wish list in this interview with YourNextShoes!

Instagram and to wear or not to wear make up.

2011-11-02T13:37:00.001+01:00

Last week, I received a comment where a girl named Malin asked if I use the app Instagram. Well, I didn't, but now I do! I downloaded it on Saturday, and these are the photos I posted so far. Kitties, food, friends, my car getting snow suited up in winter tires, birthday, my mom and I in the waiting room at the hospital yesterday, before my surgery. More kitties. If you use Instagram and want to follow me, I'm called accordingtoannika.

Other comments, on this post, brought up the questions of "real" photos on this blog. Someone asked why I don't post photos without make up on, and I must say, I was surprised. My first thought was "but I never wear make up!". Then I realized that, hmm, in the outfit photos I do. And if that makes it seem like I'm in any way self-conscious about the way I look without it, then that's terrible. I like make up, as a part of dressing up, of putting together a "look" - but I don't care about it. When I take the outfit photos, I usually put make up on, do the shoot, then wash my face. I wear make up to parties or fancier restaurant dinners, because to me, that's part of the fun of dressing up and going out. In the photos above, I'm not wearing any make up, because there was no point putting any on.

I really don't believe that any one of us need to cover up our faces in order to be beautiful, but I also don't think there's any harm in applying simple, pain-free products to experiment with our looks. I'm aware that this is considered hypocritical by some people. In high school, I was told by a group of girls in my class that I wasn't allowed to call myself a feminist since I sometimes wore make up to school. And while I personally find that a big load of crap, I can still see their point. Trust me, I am not oblivious to the fact that women are much more severely judged and defined by their looks than men; I do see a huge problem with the way lots of people - men and women, girls and boys - feel like they can't live up to the ideals of beauty that is set by our society. And I completely understand the girls and women who object to these norms by rejecting the fashion and beauty industries entirely. That's just not the way I've chose to live my life.

Writing columns for a fashion magazine for three years, while not being a fan of women's magazines myself, I've had hundreds - thousands? - of people (mostly women) asking me how I can contribute to such a publication and still sleep at night. And well, I don't always sleep at night, but I can assure you that my sleep deprivation has nothing to do with where my columns are being published. To me, it's very simple:
1) I do not think that the problem is that magazines for girls and women exist. What I don't agree with is (some of - sometimes a lot of) their content. And I absolutely cannot see anything wrong with contributing to these magazines with the kind of content I wish they would publish more of, since I am then doing what's in my power to make a change.
2) My target audience, my readers, are without any argument girls and women. The subjects I write about are intended for them - especially for the kind of girls and women who read fashion and women's magazines. I write about being a young woman struggling with many of the same issues my readers do. Then why on Earth wouldn't I write for a publication that these women read?

Back to make up. I don't believe that girls and women who like wearing make up or pretty clothes should stop doing it. I don't think that there's anything wrong with wanting to look beautiful. As long as it's just as okay not to. As long as we don't feel like we have to. As long as we realize that there's more. As long as we all know that what we look like on the outside is part of who we are, but it's a pretty darn small part. Fashion is fun, but the moment it becomes harmful, we should take a moment and ask ourselves why. Why am I putting on lipstick or heels, why do I want yet another pair of shoes, why do I want the people around me to think I look good? Is it because I think it's a pleasurable way of expressing myself, or is it because I feel like shit without it? Am I a fashion user or a fashion abuser?

There have been times when I've washed my face at night and not wanted to look at myself in the mirror. When I've longed for the morning when I get to put my cosmetic face back on. Whenever this has happened, I've stopped wearing make up completely for a few weeks. Because it's not okay. I don't want to feel like my made up self is the "real" me, and that my natural face is something that needs to be hidden. I won't let that happen. That makes my outside a too important part of the way I feel about myself, and I need to remember that I am not my looks. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend and a girlfriend, a writer, a person who loves cats and babies and books, who gets addicted to tv series and loves to watch the same movies over and over because I like to know how they end, who enjoy photography and sketching and playing the piano, who cares about people way too much but have a hard time trusting, who likes to wear clothes and shoes that I find pretty or interesting, who cries at least ten times a day and hates that I don't have a good singing voice, who has nightmares every night and doesn't like the taste of alcohol. And so on. And so on.

I am not my looks. Neither are you. As long as we all remember this, I'm pretty sure it's okay to wear lipstick now and then.

Post-Op.

2011-11-01T19:02:00.002+01:00

Update from my cell phone: I had my surgery today - an interesting way to start my 28th year! - and it went really well. My mom is by my side, being such an incredible support, and I'm not even in that much pain. (Then, on the other hand, I'm not sure the anesthesia has worn off completely yet...)

Thank you all for your lovely birthday wishes, they mean the world to me!

Love,
Annika

Some things just can't wait.

2011-10-31T01:00:00.000+01:00

It's past midnight, and I've officially made it through another year. No 27 Club for me. Pheeew! When I went to the grocery store earlier tonight - a three minute drive - I was sure a car would come crashing into me at any second, or that a meteor would fall on my head, or that I'd slip on some wet leaves and break my neck or something just as random and unnecessary. I could even see my mom yelling at the doctors at the hospital; "she can't be dead! It's her birthday, you can't let her die on her birthday!". Yeah, I know, I've been watching way too much Grey's Anatomy. Way, way, way too much. But still, would have been pretty ironic, don't you think?

Anyway, that didn't happen - big yay for that! It's now 1 a.m., and 28 years have passed since I was born. Happy Halloween to all of you, and Happy Birthday to me. Let's wish for 28 more!

The Answers, Part 4: The people I love.

2011-10-30T16:06:00.002+01:00

Part 4
Girlfriend, wife, mother?
Family, relationships, love, you know the drill.

How did you and Ronnie meet? How long have you been together, and what do you think/hope that the future will bring?
(Asked by Malin, Ana Martins, Jasmine and Bella Stephens)

Ronnie and I met through work, in December of 2007. There is a long and complicated - and yes, quite romantic - story behind it, and the only reason that I feel uncomfortable telling it is that we were both in other relationships at the time. Out of respect for the people that got hurt, I'll only say this: sometimes love can be just as painful as it is sensational, but when you know it's right, there really is nothing to do but to follow your heart.

My hopes for the future is that I will start to get better, feel better, so that I can eventually live the life I wish to live. Today, I feel like both Ronnie and I are biding our time, waiting for this storm inside of me to settle. I dream of getting married, of starting a family, of going back to work; I wish so badly that I will be able to be the person I truly am, underneath all this. That I'll have a life that is not shadowed by the dark clouds of depression. Those are my hopes for the future.

Photo from Flickr

I'm just curiuous - are you and Ronnie engaged or planning to have a wedding?
(Asked by Agnès, Nastassja and Nina)

No, we're not. He's not too crazy about the idea of getting married, and although I completely respect that, it doesn't change the fact that I would absolutely love to be his wife. I'll try to explain why.

To me, being in a relationship is about constantly choosing eachother. It's about waking up every morning knowing that you have options, but still deciding that you're right where you want to be. And that's beautiful - but it's also exhausting.

By getting married, you're saying: I've chosen you so many times, and I'll keep doing it every day, but I don't need to. I know I could change my mind in some distant future, just like the sun could set one night to never rise again, just like I could wake up one morning and have turned into a giant Gregor Samsa-esque insect, but I really don't see that happening. The person I am will never stop choosing to be with the person you are, but today, tomorrow and every other day I will spend less energy on choosing you and more energy on loving you. Because I've already made my choice.

I want that. Sure, I want the white dress and the big party and the shared last name, but none of that matters compared to what it would mean to me to fall asleep every night knowing that we've decided to be a team, a unity, a family. I don't need to consider my options. I know they're there, believe me, I've tried them on and they didn't fit. Nothing in this world is perfect, I'm not expecting perfection, but they say that when you find true love you'll know. And I know.

So, no. We're not planning a wedding. We might never plan a wedding. But I'll never stop hoping that he'll start to look at marriage the way I do, and until then, I'll wake up every morning knowing my options and still decide I'm right where I want to be.

Photo from Flickr

I would like to know how you feel about having children some day? Is there a plan or do you feel it's way out there in the future? How old do you want to be when you have your first kid, and what would you want their names to be?
(Asked by Olivia, Kajsa and Nastassja)

There is nothing I want more in this life than to have a child. (Or four.) I wish I was already a mom, but as it turns out, it doesn't really happen just because you feel like you're ready. Actually, it's really icky - you have to engage in something called intercourse for it to work, and I'm sure not going to try that! Sorry, bad joke. No, honestly, I'm hoping it will happen soon. But as for right now, these dreams have to wait, since I'm going to have cervical surgery on Tuesday and there will be three months before I get to engage in any of those sweet baby-making activities. After that, we'll just keep our fingers crossed and hope that our babies think we seem like good parents and that they are ready to bless us with their presence.

We do have names that we really like, but I feel like writing them on the blog would be a little bit like jinxing it, you know?

Has it affected you in any way to have a famous mother? Does it still?
(Asked by Sara)

Yes, absolutely. For you who don't know, my mother is a writer, and quite well-known in Sweden. That fact has definitely affected me in lots of ways - none of them good.

I guess it would have been a lot easier if I hadn't chosen to follow in her footsteps and strive to become a writer as well, but I really didn't have a choice. I started writing stories when I was four and it's the only thing I've ever wanted to do - I couldn't change that just because she became very successful during my teens. Even though I knew this, I tried to choose a different path - for a while, I studied to become a teacher - but there was no fooling myself in the end. Writing is who I am, and I had to go for it.

What happens when you have a famous mother is this:
1) People talk behind your back. The say that you're spoiled, stupid, fake, shallow, self-centered; that you think you're all that, that you've been handed everything on a silver platter.
2) Random people come up to you and say the rudest, meanest things, hoping for a reaction that they can laugh with their friends about afterwards. Oh, and it doesn't really matter what your reaction is, they'll just make something up that sounds better when they tell the story.
3) Once people find out who your mom is, they'll start treating you completely differently. Since they don't normally tell you who their parents are, neither do you. So when they do find out, because they always do, they'll not only forget everything they know about you and start seeing you as this whole other person - they'll also be furious that you didn't tell them right away, they'll feel cheated and humiliated and start hating you.
4) If you ever, ever mention your mom, people will think you're bragging. Even if they ask you about her.
5) Actually, it doesn't matter if you mention her. Everything you say will be considered bragging.
6) If your life hasn't been that great, you should never talk about this, because everyone will think you're lying. How could you have anything but a perfect life if your parent is occasionally on tv, right? Even if that parent got famous when you were already grown up? No, you're just looking to get attention. So keep quiet.
7) There will be countless forum threads and blog posts stating how worthless your mother is, you'll hear people on the subway saying how much they hate her, how ugly she is, how everything she does is a piece of crap. And no matter how much you love your mom, the only thing you can do is put your headphones on and walk away, because if you say something, you'll only make it worse.

What happens when you have a famous writer as a mother and you choose writing as your career as well is this:
1) Every word you write will be compared to the words she writes.
2) Whenever you get a job, everyone will think you got it because of who your mother is. It doesn't matter if the people who hired you doesn't know that you're her daughter. It doesn't matter if you're great at what you do. You'll still sit alone at lunch.
3) If you had good grades in school, it's because of your mom. If you have a university degree, it's because of your mom. Come to think of it, everything you do and everything you have is because of your mom. Oh, this is not true? You never asked her for help, wait, you specifically did not ask her for help because you wanted to be sure you deserve to be where you are? YEAH RIGHT.
4) The hateful, taunting forum threads and blog posts will now not only be about your mom, they will be about you. They will state as facts that the only reason you got to publish a single syllable anywhere is that you have your mother's last name. And no matter how much you know that this isn't true, you'll still lay awake at night wondering: but what if it is?

Yes, this all sounds extremely bitter, and I'm sure many of you will think I'm overreacting. And the truth is that I don't feel this way anymore. I've grown older, I've stepped aside, I've stopped caring so much about things like career and what people think or say about me. But this is what it's been like for me, and believe it or not, it has been hard. It is hard when people don't see you for who you are, when they won't give you a chance, when they refuse to get to know you. I've had people in school come up to me and say things like "I see what you're dealing with, and I know it's not the same, but I've had a similar experience. My whole life, I've been compared to my older sister who was the smartest kid anyone had ever met, and she was beautiful and popular and every time I'd get a new teacher, their faces would light up and they'd say 'oh, you're Sarah's sister!', and then I knew I'd disappoint them." And sure, it's not the same, and yet it is. You should get an opportunity to be yourself, to not be compared with others or judged because of things that have nothing to do with who you are as as person. It doesn't matter if your parents live in the fanciest house in town and you grew up with a lot of money, if everyone knows your dad is an alcoholic, if your brother is in jail or a Nobel prize winner. That's only one circumstance, one of the millions that make you who you are. Just like you shouldn't be judged by your ethnicity, sexual orientation or disability. If people won't see beyond that and get to know the real you, then that's their loss, and you deserve better. We all do.

It's just been really weird for me. My mom is my mom. She wasn't always famous, and I didn't even realize that she was until I was 21. When I was in high school and people started seeing her name in the paper, my friends already knew me, and they might make a friendly joke about it. That's all. After graduation I left Sweden for a few years, and when I came back, suddenly people had formed an opinion of me without even meeting me. My mom didn't change because she started to write - and sell - books, and I certainly didn't change. The only thing that changed was other peoples perception of me. And that affected me. It made me not trust people, it made me scared, confused, somewhat paranoid.

But - all that said, I could never have asked for a better mother. My mom is the most loving, caring, ambitious, sweet, funny, intelligent, brave, passionate, hard-working, talented person I have ever met, and I'm not just saying that. She truly is. And that has shaped me in so many more ways than her fame ever could. I have her to thank for everything good in my life, for making me believe in myself, for making me realize that I deserve to be loved. She raised me to speak my mind, to stand up to injustices, to go my own way and never conform or pretend to be someone I'm not.

Though a part of me does wish she'd never become famous, I know that it was necessary for her to reach out to as many people as possible, and her words and thoughts are way too important not to be read by the world. She will always be my biggest inspiration and I am so proud to be her daughter.

Where is your boyfriend from?
(Asked by Bella Stephens)

Ronnie was born and raised in a small Swedish town called Falköping. He moved to Stockholm when he was 18, but his family still lives there, and he's still great friends with the guys he grew up with. I can sometimes get a little bit envious of the fact that he has a home town, where he can walk down the street and stop and talk to every other person ("that's my friend David's dad, she worked in the school cafeteria, he was my soccer coach when I was eight, I had the biggest crush on her all through my teens"). When I go into Stockholm, I feel nothing. I don't think of myself as having a home town at all, I have nowhere to go back to. This is not about self-pity, I just think it seems nice. You know, to have left a place nine years ago and still think of it as "home".

Photo from Flickr

Have you ever been pursued by a girl to have a relationship? Weird question, I know, but... One of my very good friends wants to have a relationship with me, but I like her as a friend, not romantically, and it's frustrating...
(Asked by Anonymous)

I don't think any of my friends have fallen in love with me - not that I know of, anyway - but I sure have fallen in love with a friend. Plenty of times, actually. If you're certain that you're not interested in anything but friendship, that's not your fault, just as her feelings for you isn't her fault. All you can do is tell her that you adore her as a friend, but that you don't feel the way she does. It doesn't matter if it's because you're not interested in girls or if you're simply not romantically interested in this particular girl; the outcome is still the same: you can't be together if only one out of two wants that kind of relationship. If you're lucky, your friendship can still survive, though it might need some time to repair itself.

Unrequited love is always frustrating, painful and terrifying - especially if the person you have feelings for is your friend, since you then risk losing someone you care deeply about on so many levels. You tell me that she is a good friend to you, and I truly hope that you two can work this out and stay friends, because good friends are hard to come by. If she has not been in a relationship with another girl before, I'm sure this is a very difficult time for her, and it does put you, too, in a situation that isn't easy to deal with. Just let her know how you feel. Let her know that she can talk to you, that you're here for her as a friend, but that you understand if she needs some time apart to figure things out. I wish you both the best of luck.

Please Stay.

2011-10-29T20:55:00.001+02:00

Right now, my motto is "less blogging, more living". And a lot more loving.

The guy I'm crazy about is here with me for two days, two hopelessly short days, before he has to go back to being a fancy film director on the other side of the country. (From what he tells me it's quite far from fancy, but whatever. I'm sure he's just being modest.) And I am doing my very best to be a supportive girlfriend, I am, but this house is too big for only a girl and two cats. Too quiet. It's a family house, it needs laughter and hugs and boisterous arguments not to feel empty and hollow. But as I keep telling myself: It's temporary, it's not forever, he'll be home soon. It could have been so much worse.

So, as I'm sure you can imagine, we're trying to make the most of our time together. He's leaving again in less than twelve hours, and then I'll be all yours again!

Fiercely cuddly.

2011-10-28T09:47:00.000+02:00

I'm really sorry to burst the bubble here, folks, but the truth is that I didn't actually prance around in those vinyl leggings all day. Why would I, when I could wear these exquisite cotton floral print pyjama pants instead?

The cats tell me I look fierce in them. Fiercely cuddly. And I value their opinion profusely.

The Daredevils.

2011-10-27T16:47:00.001+02:00

Dark brown faux fur jacket, H&M. Sheer purple shirt, "Annika", Monki. Black mini skirt, Weekday. Black vinyl(ish) leggings, Johanna Vikman. Black knitted headband and black harness boots, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

I always thought this type of headband didn't work for me. Can't really remember why - something to do with the shape of my head, probably. Actually... now I'm starting to think that maybe this is the kind that I never managed to look good on me (which sucks, since they're soooo pretty!), and I just got those two mixed up. That's probably it. Because these knitted ones seem to look perfectly fine.

Ah, I used to wear these leggings all the time back in 2007. They always were the greatest conversation starters - it happened at least ten times that old ladies at the bus stop asked if they could, ehmm, touch them. "Such an interesting material!" Oh stop it, they were cute old ladies, not perverted. I guess they're not "in" anymore (the leggings, not the old ladies; old people never go out of style), but we're not supposed to care about that, are we? I thought they were quite fierce with this outfit, that might have turned out a bit too nice with a more plain pair of tights.

Remember when I told you that my favorite store Monki has named a shirt after me? Obviously that's not true, but they did name a shirt Annika, and of course I had to have it. And here it is! I put on the blouse and then created the outfit around it, apparently trying to channel some sort of 70's and 80's glam rock vibe.

Don't know if you noticed, but I'm not wearing red lipstick in these photos! Way to shake things up, huh? A pink/purple shade it is, oh yeah. Feeling all adventurous. A real daredevil. Come to think of it, that's probably what I'd call my glam rock band. The Daredevils. Our music would be just as awful as our band name, but we'd wear killer stage outfits!

About that girl in my photos.

2011-10-26T20:31:00.000+02:00

Something about this photo reminded me of Anna Karina, the most beautiful woman in the entire world. I know it sounds terrible to say that about a photo of myself, but in my defense, it doesn't really look like it's me in the picture!

I generally feel strangely detached from my "photo self". I can scrutinize a self portrait and find it pretty, beautiful and sometimes even sexy (weird, I know) - it just has very little to do with me. I don't know if it's my years of modeling that has created this detachment, all I know is that I see my photos as images created by me, featuring me, and yet I'm not the one being portrayed. Not really. The woman I see when I look in the mirror, that pale person with tired eyes, that's Annika. She's me. The one in the photos... She's someone I dress up and play with, like I doll whose face I paint to look a certain way and ask to express a specific emotion. I don't identify with her.

And that's why I can say "she reminds me of Anna Karina in this photo!", and still not walk around thinking "hey, I'm all that, I look a bit like the most beautiful woman in the world in a picture". But then again - if I did think that, I probably wouldn't tell you. :)

Am I making any sense at all right now? I'm not, am I? Okay, I'd better stop, then. I'm sort of freaking myself out.

The real deal.

You Take My Breath Away.

2011-10-26T09:14:00.002+02:00

Red coat with faux fur collar, Ida Sjöstedt. Mustard beret, Monki. Blue tights, H&M. White socks, Lindex. Black boots, Urban Outfitters. Loch blue 15-inch leather satchel, The Leather Satchel Co.

(Photos by me.)

The rays of the October sun beg me to wear color, color and more color. And I obey.

Can you believe this blog has reached a thousand followers? I for one can't. I thought it was quite unbelievable when I reached a hundred, but this... Wow. I'm amazed, honored and practically speachless. Which doesn't happen very often, as you might have noticed. Thank you. You take my breath away.

Hit me like a ray of sun.

2011-10-25T17:53:00.001+02:00

I am simply blown away by how talented this guy is.

My friend Anna and I were watching the Swedish version of Idol on Friday, curled up on my couch with the katz, and when this performance came on... We hadn't really noticed Robin before, but now - If I had been 14 years old instead of 27 and 359 days, I would have written him at least twenty love letters by now. Just because of the way he sings "it's written all over your face". It sends shivers down my spine every time. Seriously.

Blue Like That.

2011-10-25T13:27:00.001+02:00

Loch blue 15-inch leather satchel from The Leather Satchel Co. Fluffy kitty, Biianka, who brings so much joy to my life.

Welcome to my wardrobe, you beautiful thing. I really hope you'll like it here, and I promise I'll take such good care of you.

To call for hands of above to lean on.

2011-10-23T20:35:00.005+02:00

Navy leopard print collar coat, River Island/Asos. Black bowler hat, Monki. Leopard print tights, H&M. White patent boots, Doc Martens. Red leather satchel, The Leather Satchel Co.

(Photos by me.)

Bloggers always write "I have the best readers in the world!". I'm sure they think they mean it, and who can blame them for being wrong? They obviously haven't met you guys. Because you are the best readers in the world. If there was a blog reader Oscar you would win, hands down, kick everyone's ass! Thank you times a billion for your support. I have no idea what I've done to deserve all of your kind words, but I'm not going to question it: I'm just going to accept that it's a true blessing.

To prove to myself that I can still put on clothes and lipstick and even smile, well, I did just that. I even put my hair up in some kind of a faux bob. It came down after a while, since I only used two hairpins (laaaazyyy), but it looked sort of cute while it lasted. If I may say so myself.

Baryshnik kept me company while I took the photos, and he decided that the view was better from the tree. Unlike Biianka, who's great at climbing up but not so much down, he's an awesome tree climber - he leaps from branch to branch like an oversized squirrel. A positively adorable oversized squirrel, I might add.

I always think that I have no fall- or winter coats whatsoever, but the truth is that I have so many it's actually ridiculous. It's just that they are all, without exceptions, black, red or navy. It's like I'm physically unable to buy a coat in any other color. I really want a camel one, one in a deep burgundy and one in a dark emerald green, and trust me, I've been looking for years - it's just that whever I find one I really like, they also have it in either navy, black or red, and then I end up getting one of those instead. Poor me. This is such a huge problem! No wonder I have to be in therapy every Tuesday!!! (Ha... ha... ha.)

I just now realized that my love for the colors red, black and navy is pretty visible in this outfit. I feel like especially red and blue items are always begging me to be matched with eachother. And who am I to say no? They do look fabulous together!

Not that I would change a thing, I just want to do it all again.

2011-10-22T23:10:00.004+02:00

My darling friends,

I'm so tired. I'm sick and I'm lonely and I'm exhausted. I can't post any outfits because I'm too worn down to get dressed. When I feel like this, I can't even imagine that I'll keep blogging; I can't see how it will be possible for me to write about myself, my every day life, how I'll ever put on nice clothes again and go outside and take photos and post them. It all seems unbearably hard, almost impossible - and what's worse, I can't see the point in any of it. Not right now.

The reason I started this blog was not that I thought people would admire me, tell me I'm pretty or that my clothes are cute, that I'm a good writer or that my opinions are interesting. It definitely wasn't because I have any illusions that I'll start earning money from it or become a so called "blogger celebrity". No, the reason was very simple: I felt all alone, and I desperately wanted to communicate with people, someone, anyone. And it worked! You wonderful people, who comment on this blog or e-mail me, have become the group of friends I simply don't have "in real life". But just like I have serious trouble staying in touch with friends outside of the internet, I don't see how I will be able to keep all of you in my life. And the reason is exactly the same: I don't feel like I've got anything to give. I'm nothing but this sad, lonely girl who lies on her couch and watches Grey's Anatomy until she falls asleep at 5 am because she's scared to go to bed alone, who won't talk about anything but her cats, who bites her fingernails down to the flesh, who wants to eat but can't find the energy to even make a sandwhich. Who can't take care of herself, so how could she ever be of any use to anyone else?

That's how I feel tonight.

Yes, I truly am Little Miss Sunshine.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I've had the most painful period cramps all day, throwing up and feeling ridiculously sorry for myself. Or maybe that they found premalignant changes during a pap smear back in August, that I've been worried out of my mind ever since and am having surgery in ten days and I'm just not good with surgeries, I'm not good with being sick, I'm not good with hospitals and pain and needles and maybe I shouldn't watch so much Grey's Anatomy because people constantly die on that show from the most routine procedures.

Or maybe it's because my boyfriend is making a film in another town and he's never home and even though I'm happy for him and proud of him and even though I've gotten better at it since the cats came into our lives, I'm still not exactly comfortable with being by myself. My head starts producing the bad kind of thoughts and noone is here to tell me they aren't true (and that even if they are, they won't kill me).

Or maybe, just maybe, this all is somehow connected to the fact that my best friend in the world, the only best friend I've ever had, the only person who's ever really, really known me through and through, was buried a year ago today.

I wrote her a song, it's bad, of course, since I'm not a particularly musical person, not like she was. But I still think she'd be proud of me, she might even like it. It starts like this:

Once or twice or a thousand times, I have wished to live my life all over

Not that I would change a thing; I just want to do it all again

Break the same rules, play the same games

Feel that way you made me feel

I'd make the same mistakes, make them twice as bad

If that's what it takes.

Corny, yes. I'm a corny person.

Fanny, I am so so so so so sorry we had to bury you, but I hope you were there to see it, because it was beautiful. And it wasn't one of those funerals where people are calm and collected with eyes that are just a little red, no, we cried, we cried so much that we couldn't breathe; you had been dead for a month and still we all cried so hard that now and again it drowned out the voice of the priest, because that's how broken our hearts were, that's how impossible the thought that you were really gone. And the huge church was filled with family and friends who all love you, crammed, people were standing in the back. You touched the hearts of so many. You changed my life. And I am so grateful. I'm so sorry we had to bury you. I'm so sorry that it's been a year and I still haven't figured out a way to bring you back. But I think about you every second of every minute of every day and there is no way you will ever be forgotten. Ever. If I'm lucky enough to have children, I will tell them all about you and they will feel safe knowing that their godmother is an angel who's watching over their every step.

So: That's how I feel tonight. It's embarrassing and agonizingly pathetic, but that's life. I'll get through this night, I'll get through the next one, and I'll keep gettin through them until the sun rises again and I'll wake up without feeling like I've been stabbed in the heart. And on it goes. The good with the bad and the bad with the good.

Maybe I shouldn't have told you all this, but I have noone else to tell. And you are my friends. However sad that might sound.

London Moments.

2011-10-21T17:42:00.003+02:00

Brick Lane by night.

Pheeew... And here I thought I was going to get shot at any moment!

Obviously I sat at the very back of the double-decker bus. That's what all the cool kids do, right? Right?

You can't go to England without having a proper English breakfast. You just can't.

Accompanied by some strong English breakfast tea, that is.

A vast majority of the photos I have of Zoey from our days together look like this. Why someone as astoundingly beautiful would ever want to hide her face is simply beyond me. Haha, I just realized it looks like she's in total despair! I promise, she was just being shy. I didn't hit her or insult her or anything. I'm a nice girl! No, really!

We went to the City Farm and made friends with a... duck? Goose? Ah, this is terrible - I live in the country, for crying out loud! I ought to know these things!

Pretty goat with impressive beard.

BUNNY!!!

OK, honestly, I don't know how much this goose (?) liked us. Something tells me that is not a look of utter adoration.

But this sweetheart! She did like us! She kept following us arround, wanting to cuddle.

She even liked the way Zoey's duffle coat tasted.

Put me in a place where there are animals and I'll be this happy.

Zoey dressed especially to match her new best buddy, Vic the Chick. They had obviously called eachother that morning and decided what to wear. Vic the Chick was like, "I think I'm going for those mustard yellow orange-ish feathers", and Zoey was all like, "again?! Alrighty then, the duffle coat it is. Again."

Jazz hands!

This fluffy darling somehow reminded me of one of my cats.

I had the tastiest sea food pasta ever for dinner! Or it could simply have been that I was famished, and that the company was so spectacular.

The spectacular company in question, a.k.a. miss Disco Pony herself, apparently had some kind of chicken.

Meeeow! My spotty kitty from Avanna followed me all over London, keeping an eye on my stuff, hissing at anyone who came too close.

Swept Away.

2011-10-20T15:11:00.000+02:00

On Monday morning, I drove to Skavsta Airport...

...and hopped on a plane to London.

Bye bye Sweden...

...well hello there, England!

Incredibly enough, my phobia of flying decided to stay at home, and I arrived at Gatwick a little nauseous but extremely excited.

London looked exactly like I remembered it, only a lot smaller. More... accessible.

And I'd love to tell you all about my days in London right now, but I can't. Just wanted to say "hiiiii! I missed you guys!" real quick and let you know I'm back home - because my baby kitty Biianka is sick. She has terrible diarrhea, which means I have to wipe her tiny butt constantly and make sure she drinks and doesn't get worse, and also that I'll talk to you again as soon as I have a moment.

I'll just tell you this, though: I'm so, so, so, so, so glad I went to London to see Zoey. I can't even begin to tell you how much it meant to me. If I would stop blogging today, every single post I've written, all the hours I've spent on this blog since May 15th would be 100% worth it. Because I'm not a girl who's easy to sweep off her feet, quite the opposite, actually. Still, that's exactly what she did.

Adventures.

2011-10-17T10:01:00.000+02:00

Let's take a break.

Bringing a laptop to London would be stupid - I'm going there for two days, I won't have a place to put my stuff, and I know myself well enough to be quite certain I'm going to complain nonstop about how my shoulder is killing me from the weight of the bag.

Oh, and I've been extremely busy these last few days, so no time for pre-posting.

In other words: I'm off to London, and I'll see you Wednesday night!

PS. I'm going to London to see a girl. Someone I've gotten to know through this blog and come to consider a real friend, even though we have yet to meet in real life. And you know what? I'm not even nervous. There's no doubt in my mind that I will love Zoey. DS.

The Super Comfy Party Girl.

2011-10-17T01:14:00.002+02:00

Black knitted tube scarf, "Yin", and black pants with double side pockets, Monki. Striped tank top, Weekday. Beige cardigan, Forever 21. Black patent boots, Vagabond.

(Photos by me.)

After reading my post about the perfect haircut, lots of you were kind enough to tell me about the clip-on fringe (or "winge", as they call it) that is sold at Asos - someone even suggested the model might be wearing one in the photos. I really don't think she is, since I've seen tons of photos of her and her bangs look way too natural to be clip-ons - and the reason I know this, is that I own one myself. I bought it from Asos a year ago, to help me decide if I should cut mine or not. I fell in love with it (even though it does not look real), went to the hairdresser's and told them to cut my bangs "just like these fake ones!" - and was thoroughly disappointed. Turns out my hair simply can't look that good. Well, I can still wear my clip-on fringe - and in these photos, I am. (So, just to be clear: I did not get a haircut. The bangs are fake.)

I wear these pants far too often, though usually only around the house, since they're basically... sweatpants. (Which obviously makes them insanely comfortable.) But last night, I was tired and couldn't muster up the energy to get dressed up, and I thought "come on, I'm just going to our friends' house for dinner, it will be Ronnie and his best friend Peter, Peter's girlfriend and myself - who am I trying to impress?". So, I got in the car, I drove to Stockholm and rang the doorbell - in my sweatpants - only to be greeted by a ton of people I'd never met before. Turns out there was quite the party going on in there! "Ooops, did we forget to tell you?" Oh well. There's no law against wearing sweatpants to a party, sure, and I was definitely the most comfy guest there. But still... In hindsight, I wish I'd at least put on a skirt. I mean, I dress up more than this when I'm going to sit all alone in my office all day!

But you know what? I realized just now that this is very much like me. Back at University, the people in our class thought my best friend Fanny and I were nuts - we would get all dolled up for school, in dresses and high heels and make up, and then go out at night (hey, we were students, we always went out) wearing jeans, t-shirts and Converse sneakers. We figured it was nothing but logical: we loved fashion and saw school as a great opportunity to dress up, but when we went out to clubs or concerts, we wanted to dance dance dance! Then we needed to be as comfortable as possible, because seriously, how do people dance in high heels?! I'm no Beyoncé, that's for sure - I need my flats if I'm going to jump up and down for three hours straight.

I didn't wear the fake bangs to the dinner/party, but my usual side-swept bangs - and I must say, I felt prettier that way than in these photos! So maybe I can live without cutting them, after all. Though... I love the red shade my hair got when I edited the photos, maybe that's what I should be doing to get a little bit of change? Go to the hair salon and ask for a bit of a chestnut color?

Okay, I should go to sleep now. I want to be all fresh and sharp for my first day in London tomorrow! I can't believe I haven't been there since I lived over at Hyde Park Corner back in 2003. Can't wait!

Welcome to my humble abode.

2011-10-15T14:57:00.000+02:00

On Thursday, these two lovely ladies drove all the way out here for a day of complete countryside chillin' with yours truly and da katz.

We started out by taking a walk around the neighbourhood - I needed to go pick up one of our cars that was being serviced down at the auto shop - and apparently both Malin and Annsofie found the walk quite hilarious. In both of these photos, Annsofie is getting ready to throw chestnuts for me to catch. Like little kids! That's awesome. I happen to love kids.

Then we went home and made dinner. Malin was making her dad's "famous" beef something - turned out it would have deserved being famous, it was ridiculously tasty - and I was in charge of the appetizers.

Malin thought it was a good idea to try and feed raw onions to Biianka. Luckily, my baby girl knows better. She and her brother got their favorite smelly chicken-ish cat food instead.

I am not very much into cooking, but I do make a mean goat cheese toast - and why change a winning concept? It is one of the most delicious dishes ever!

We were all working on Friday, so we toasted in non-alcoholic cider and felt like insanely responsible adults. Which I suppose we sort of are.

Responsible Adult # 1.

Responsible Adult # 2.

Sleepy kitty # 1.

The cats finished their food in about three and a half seconds, but Baryshnik decided to stay and hang out by the dinner table. Such a gentleman.

After dinner, we slumped on the couches, drank coffee and ate candy and talked about boys and work and boys and work and eternal love - you know, the important things.

I'm always really nervous before friends visit our house for the first time; for some reason I keep obsessing over if they'll think it's nice and clean and charming or not. Which is obviously a complete waste of time, since if someone didn't like it, they would most likely be polite enough not to let me know. I'm not sure why it's so important to me that others think we have a great home, but probably it has something to do with the fact that people generally think Ronnie and I are a bit nuts for leaving Stockholm for a house - a life - in the middle of nowhere. So if they come out here and think it's idyllic and peaceful and beautiful out here, it's like I've somehow redeemed myself in their eyes. That they might understand why I've chosen this life for myself. But gosh, it's all so stupid. I know it doesn't matter, not even a little bit - all that matters is that I LOVE IT HERE. I really, really, really do. This is my sacred place, be it nice and clean or not. This is my life now, and I've never regretted it. Not for a split second.

The photo shoot yesterday went beyond my expectations, I'm so happy with the result! Now I just hope that Tove - the amazing lady I photographed - will be as satisfied with the photos as I am...

I've been working for a few hours and now I'll have to get ready, since I'm driving into Stockholm for the second day in a row; Ronnie and I are going to have dinner with friends before driving back home tonight. I'm absolutely not used to all of these activities - even if they're really great and fun ones - and I just hope I'll be able to enjoy myself and not get too tired and worn out in the days to come. Because on Monday, I'm going to London, baby!

Let's get to work.

2011-10-14T09:43:00.008+02:00

I want to start this day by saying THANK YOU to Gloss Magazine for this gorgeous feature in their October issue!

Now I'm going to drive into Stockholm for a photo shoot - to stand behind the camera, that is, not in front of it. My boyfriend has been teasing me about the fact that my niche as a photographer is more than a little narrow at the moment, considering the only person I've been paid to photograph lately is... my own mother. (Not a bad niche, though - we've shot three book covers, a few dozen press photos and a bunch of magazine features!)

Anyway, now he needs to shut up, because today I'm shooting press pictures for, ehm, my mother's best friend! She is also an author, she's releasing a new book soon and needs new photos to go with it. I'm a little bit nervous - what if she's not happy with the result? What if it turns out I actually suck at this kind of photography, that the only people I'm good at shooting are my mom and myself? Well, we will soon find out. And I might be nervous, but at the same time I'm pretty confident - she is a beautiful woman, what could go wrong? As long as I don't leave my camera at home or forget to remove the lens cover, we should be fine! (Hopefully I will notice if all the photos contain nothing but black squares.) :)

I'll talk to you again tonight - keep your fingers crossed I don't mess up today!

Driving straight into that brick wall.

2011-10-13T18:26:00.001+02:00

The song that has meant the most to me. It literally saved my life when I was 18. And it made me realize what I wanted out of life: no lies, just love.

I can't remember how much I've told you about what's put me in this place where I'm at today, health-wise. If you're interested, here's a "short" summary:

I have suffered from depression and panic attacks for the past fifteen years of my life. I've also been very self destructive, my eating disorder being one of many examples of that, though I'm fairly certain my persistant depression has been the root of all evil. Everything else has simply been my way of coping, of distracting myself from getting to the bottom of my problems and actually dealing with them.

When I graduated from university as a journalist, in 2008, I really wanted to get my life together. More than that, I wanted to be someone. A success. I wanted to be that person people talk about and say "that girl, wow, she's really one to watch!". And you know what? It turned out I was really good at my job. Plus, there was a slot - right there! - just waiting to be filled by someone like me: A young woman, a talented writer (yes, I just called myself talented) who was extremely passionate about issues concerning young people, and who wasn't afraid to share her own experiences with anyone who'd listen. One great offer led to another, and then another, and then suddenly I was doing all of those things I had been dreaming about. All at once. Because who the hell was I to say no? To turn down offers others would do anything for? Na-ah. No was not a part of my vocabulary.

In the summer of 2009, I worked day and night. Quite literally. I worked for 20 hours a day and it still wasn't enough. I couldn't keep up. And so, I started getting sick. Severe pneumonia, gastritis, strange allergic reactions, migraines that just wouldn't go away. My body was shouting at the top of its inflamed lungs, begging me to slow down, and what did I do? I told it to shut the f**k up. I was on my way to reaching all of my goals, faster than I could ever have imagined! I was going to be someone! People said on the radio that I was the one to watch, that they expected great things of me!

Then it was Saturday morning, one of the last days of August 2009, and it had all come to an end. I woke up in a hospital bed and it was over. The day before, my body and brain had both decided to shut down, to steer the speeding train that was my life straight into a brick wall (okay, figuratively).

During the months that followed, I could not write one sentence without throwing up violently from the pain in my head. Quite a few times, I was certain my skull was actually splitting open. Still, I kept the two continuous writing assignments that meant the most to me: my columns in Sofis mode and my columns in Aftonbladet. More than once, I wrote these columns in the bathroom, throwing up every few minutes. I took me nearly six months of intense therapy to realize this situation wasn't working. I gave up the columns that were by far the hardest on me - those in Aftonbladet, Scandinavia's largest newspaper - and I left Stockholm for a completely different life, way out in the countryside. This was where I was supposed to change my perspectives on things. To find myself. To heal.

One month before Ronnie and I move into our new house. My best friend in the world, the one person I've been closer to than anyone or anything in my entire life, find out she's dying from cancer.

That happened.

She has been dead for one year and twenty-two days and I guess you could say my healing process was sort of thrown off track. I have no idea what my life would have been like right now if she had not gotten sick. Maybe I would still be struggling with recovering from my violent crash into that imaginary brick wall, maybe I would be the epitome of harmony and health.

We'll never find out. Because she's gone and the loss of her has changed me. I could write for hours about why her death is so impossible for me to handle, but there's a time for that and that time is not now. I will simply say that half of my heart belonged to her and I still haven't been able to figure out how to keep on living with only half a heart. And I'm a pretty freakin' long way away from harmony and health. But I'm trying. I'm trying with all my might and even though I feel like I keep taking two babysteps forward and giant leap back, I know I'm not. Every day is a day closer to the life I want to be living. And as long as I manage to stay alive, I know I will get there.

Because I have changed my perspective on things. I no longer wish to be somebody. I truly don't. All I wish is to be me, whoever that person might be, no matter if she's the one to watch or the girl in the corner noone pays any attention to. I have been that girl in the corner, and if I could go back in time and talk to her, I would tell her this:

"It's not all going to be fine. You know life is hard and fifteen years from now, it's still not going to be a walk in the park. But you are strong, you will survive, and more than that: you will be loved. You will find a girl who is the most fascinating, inspiring, beautiful, colorful person you could ever imagine, the kind of person who is lit up from the inside with a glow that chases away any darkness, and she will pick you to be her love, her best friend, her sister. Out of everyone in the world, she will pick you. You will choose eachother. No doubts, no holding back.

And then you will meet a man who's so talented, passionate and creative it blows your mind, a man who makes you feel like anything is possible - I know it sounds cheesy, but the first time you look into his eyes, you will see the future. His and yours. And you know what? He will also pick you. You will choose eachother.

From these two people, you will get more love than you ever thought possible. You will get to experience the kind of love that makes a person believe in God. You will love them with all of your heart, all of your soul, with everything that you are. And they will love because you are you and noone else. Because of everything you've been through that made you who you are. None of this, what you are forced to experience right now and what you will have to deal with in the future, is in vain.

Oh, and one more thing: Just remember that the love you share will never be lost. Even if you lose the person that is closest to you, the love you have for eachother will always be with you. Always. Love conquers death. Don't you ever forget that."

Yes. This is a short summary, believe it or not. It's a fraction, a fragment, a tiny glimpse of what has brought me where I am today.

Some of you have been asking how it's going with the university course in creative writing that I was supposed to take this fall. The answer is: I dropped out. Partly because it was a lot more basic than I had expected, and I just didn't see myself benefitting from it at all; partly because it turned out to require a lot more time and energy than I possess at this time in my life. I need to focus on what's important. On taking care of myself, on my baby steps towards the life I want. A couple of years ago, I would probably have finished the course anyway, since I couldn't stand thinking of myself as a quitter. Today, I couldn't care less. Health Comes First. It really is as simple as that.

A Room of One's Own.

2011-10-13T09:54:00.000+02:00

On July 1st, I got the keys to my new office. In six weeks, it had gone from this...

...to this:

I thought we'd check out what it looks like today!

The furniture is a mis-matched mixture of stuff I brought over from our house and things from Ronnie's last office and his old apartment - all I bought new was the cheapest desk they had at IKEA. I still haven't gotten around to hang the mirror, the giant picture of Manhattan and all of my posters up on the walls, and you can't exactly accuse it of being too cozy, but I love it. Every time I sit down at that desk, I get things done. Without anxiety, without pressure, without sweaty palms or a racing heart.

The rent is too expensive, considering what I earn at the moment, but I've chosen to deal with that. It's an investment in myself: in my future career as well as in my mental and physical health. It's a reason to leave the house, and it gives me a much needed taste of what my life can - and will - be like the day that I'm strong enough to have normal work days, a pace more suited to the rest of the world. It makes me hope and strive for a time when I won't lay awake all night gasping for air, when headaches will be the exception instead of the norm, when I won't be paralyzed by grief, depression and despair. When I won't constantly be so tired that it feels like I'm sleepwalking through life. A time when I'll be well.

I can't wait to get there.

Way Off.

2011-10-12T20:33:00.001+02:00

Black skirt and dark purple over knee socks, Asos. Black leather jacket, Sofifi. White tank top, Weekday. Burgundy bag, Monki. Black pony hair litas, Jeffrey Campbell.

(Photos by me.)

I thought this outfit looked pretty neat on, but I really dislike it in the photos. The proportions are just... off. Plus, I look absolutely exhausted. (In my defense, I was exhausted.) I picked out the four photos I hated the least, and well, here they are.

Or maybe I'm simply overly critical because I don't feel that great. Might be getting sick. This won't be my most productive day ever, that's for sure - because just like I took the morning off, I'm now going to take tonight off as well (yes, I'm usually most efficient after 8 pm), eat candy and watch five episodes of Grey's Anatomy. Unless I fall asleep on the couch. Then that's okay, too.

So I've made peace with the falling leaves.

2011-10-12T13:10:00.000+02:00

Whenever I wake up with my heart beating too fast, feeling stressed out even in my sleep about all the things I need to get done in the days or weeks to come, I've learnt that the best way to relax is to... well, relax. Because all of this stress is only in my mind. It's nothing but a leftover from back when I was constantly on the verge of breaking down from all the pressure I put on myself, from double and triple and quadruple booking every minute until there was no chance in hell I could get everything done in time.

But that's all over. It's not my life anymore; my body took care of that for me. It forced me to hit the breaks, the only way it knew how, and more than two years later I'm still slowing down. There are things I need to get done in the next couple of days and weeks, sure, but we're talking a very reasonable amount. It just feels like it's too much, because my mind has come to associate the very thought of work with a feeling that screams "I can't do it I can't do it I just can't seriously I can't breathe help help help I'm going to die!". Noone can change this pattern but me. And since I'm lucky enough to be the boss of my own time, I also have to accept responsibility the way a boss would.

This morning, the responsible thing to do was take a few hours off. A few hours to think through my tasks for the following week, to slowly realize that it's all under control. And if I later find that it's not, then I'll skip things. I know now that nothing work-related, and I mean nothing, is worth risking my health or sanity for.

After a lazy breakfast, followed by soaking in a steaming hot bath, I feel more than ready to take on this day. But you know what I'm going to do first? I'm going to take a walk, listen to my favorite songs and enjoy the sun against my skin. Because I'm the only one who can make myself see the beauty that truly is all around.

"It's not a movie
No private screening
This method acting, well
I call that living"

Conor Oberst, my hero

The Intricate Gorgeousness of Estela Balan.

2011-10-11T19:04:00.003+02:00

Purple color block dress, Estela Balan. Black blazer, Leifsdottir. Plum bowler hat, "Vivian", Monki. Black harness boots, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

The clone theme continues - don't worry, I'll probably get bored with it soon. But for now, we're here, we're multiple, and we're all wearing Estela Balan.

I got this dress sent to me by Diana Martinez, the extremely talented Mexican designer behind the brand, and I find it absolutely stunning. Just look at the skirt part - the handiwork is so intricate and simply exquisite! This is such a great addition to my wardrobe, which is definitely lacking when it comes to colorful items, and I love the fact that I could wear it out to dinner as well as to a wedding and feel equally appropriate.

You should definitely check out the Estela Balan website: it's brimful of eye candy, inspiration and unexpected color combinations.

I've admired Diana Martinez' work ever since I first laid eyes on her designs through Barbro Andersen's blog - here and here - and I'm thrilled to be lucky enough to have two Estela Balan dresses in my wardrobe now! (Will show you the other one soon.) And like this wasn't enough, they're also made especially for me from my measurements, which means they basically fit me better than any dress ever has. I usually can't wear dresses this tight (except if the fabric is really stretchy), so I was amazed to zip them up and for once not get disappointed with the fit. Quite the luxury, I must say.

Anyway; I hope you like this dress as much as I do! And thank you, Diana, for making me look so great. Honestly, I feel like a movie star in it. (Am I allowed to say that, or does it sound terribly conceited? I promise, I mean it in the least conceited way possible!)

Hair Perfection.

2011-10-11T09:09:00.002+02:00

About five times a day, I get the urge to chop off my hair. But I don't think I've ever wanted it more than when I found this girl on the Asos website.

Seriously! She has the perfect haircut! And it seems like her hair is the exact same color and has the same wavy texture as mine, which should mean that the cut could work for me. Although I know that it won't. Oh, how I wish I could simply neglect the fact that I would regret it every day if I actually chopped it off! But I can't. I know that my bangs can never look that pretty - believe me, I've tried and tried and tried and tried. I've had hairstyles similar to this one more times than I can remember and my hair just refuses to cooperate. It's never looked half as good as her hair does on the photos above.

I'm not saying I don't like the way I look, but if someone told me I had to switch hair and face with a person of my choice - say, for like... six months - I wouldn't mind switching with this girl. Plus, she looks a tiny bit like me, so I could just claim I cut my hair and had an advanced face lift! :) Such a brilliant plan. Hmm.

Five bloggers whose hair and faces I certainly wouldn't object to walk around with for six months: Alana of Instinto de Vestir, Rosalind of Clothes, Cameras and Coffee, Ebba of Ebbas Foton, Barbro of Barbro Andersen and Margaret of Margaret J. And those are just five of probably a hundred of bloggers I adore both for their innovative style and incredible beauty. If I was the fashion editor of a magazine, I'd use bloggers for every single fashion editorial! I wonder if the perfect hair girl has a blog? She should have!

The More, the Merrier.

2011-10-10T18:45:00.002+02:00

Black knitted cropped sweater, "Mary", Monki. Brown faux sheepskin jacket, Lindex. Dark blue skinny jeans, Cheap Monday, Weekday. White patent boots, Dr Martens, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

I just now realized that the first picture reminds me of Eli, that creepy Heroes character who can clone himself.


Photo from Herosite.net

Sorry about that - I promise my clones are very friendly!

I don't have much to say about this outfit. It's comfortable, it keeps me warm, no more, no less. I did wear some black eyeliner for the first time in months, that's always something! The lipstick is Maybelline's "Red Revolution", I can't get enough of it at the moment.

Don't miss the latest giveaway, and have a great start of the week!

Make It Count.

2011-10-10T10:44:00.003+02:00

I know it doesn't always seem like it, but I am truly grateful for everything that I have.

For my families; the one I was born into and the one I've created for myself.

For the blessing of waking up every morning in our own bed with the love of my life and the most adorable cats anyone could ever ask for.

For the opportunity to live in a house I feel one hundred percent at home in, for the people in my life who refuse to give up on me even when I simply cannot be the friend they deserve.

For the rare chance to work with what I love, and what's even more rare, to be able to cut down on assignments now that my depression makes working nearly impossible.

For all of you who read my blog, write me comments and letters and make me feel so much less lonely.

I have made so many mistakes in my life, but I must have done something right to end up right where I am. Or maybe it's faith, maybe it's luck, maybe I don't deserve any of this. Either way, I'm grateful.

Sure, it's over a month until Thanksgiving, but that doesn't mean you can't still give thanks, right?

Last night, I started thinking about how lucky I am. Our stove has been broken for four days which means we've only had cold food (we don't own a microwave), as well as the heater that hasn't worked in forever - I didn't mind until now, when the outside temperature has dropped and we have to watch tv looking like we're off to a polar expedition any minute.

And still... life is pretty spectacular. I try my best to remember that, even when I eat cold pizza leftovers for dinner wearing a winter coat and woolen socks and I cry for the 10000000034576425645926892046th time about the fact that I can't call my best friend and ask her to come over and watch the latest How I Met Your Mother episode with me. Especially then. Because she's no longer here, but I am. And it's my duty to appreciate it; today, tomorrow and every single day until I finally join her. Otherwise, our time apart will have been all for nothing.

Life's too short for wasting. Let's try to make it count. [Insert carpe diem cliché of your choice here - they're all true.]

It's Giveaway Time - Make your skin glow with Manasi Makeup!

2011-10-09T15:23:00.002+02:00

This, my friends, is Manasi Makeup Lyster Creme Bronzer - one of the best makeup products I've ever used. It doesn't only give your skin that subtle yet visible sun-kissed glow, it also smells like the most delicious dessert you could ever imagine! (I raved about how hard it is not to eat it with a spoon here.)

I've used mine instead of blush every time I've put on makeup since I got it in June, partly because of the amazing scent, partly because it looks so much better, younger and more natural than any powder blush.

Bronzed from head to toe for Johanna Vikman S/S12. Photos by Karin Foberg.

The creator of this product is the sensationally skilled make up artist Susanne Persson, with whom I've worked for years, since she's the one who always does the make up and hair for the Johanna Vikman campaign and lookbook shoots. Manasi Makeup is her own cosmetics brand, where she develops products that she finds are missing on the market today.

Susanne in action.

And, well, since I happen to be completely obsessed with my Lyster Creme Bronzer, of course I want you guys to discover it, as well!

For the chance to be the one lucky lady who will receive the bronzer in her mailbox, all you have to do is this:

1. Follow According to Annika via google friend connect or Bloglovin'...
2. ...like According to Annika, Manasi Makeup and the Manasi Makeup Webshop on Facebook...
3. ...and leave me a comment on this post to let me know you've entered! (Don't forget to add your e-mail address so that I can contact you if you win.)

My Monki Wishlist: Colorize It.

2011-10-08T15:37:00.002+02:00

Purple knitted tube scarf, "Cameron". Mustard knitted cropped top, "Piccolina". Striped hair bow, "Toki".

Orange sheer shirt, "Lindy". Mustard boots, "Eva". Peach mini skirt, "Marusha".

Navy zipper dress, "Editha". Navy bow print wollen golves, "Bow". Rusty red knitted beret, "Rebecka". Orange 3/4 length pants, "Juliette".

Yeah, yeah. So I got a little crazy with those pretty autumn leaves in Photoshop. It could happen to anyone.

While my fall wardrobe looks a lot more like my first Monki wishlist, this is sort of what I'm aiming for. Bright, vibrant colors, though still from that amazing fall palette - mustard, plum, navy and that gorgeous burnt orange. There's no way I'll turn away from the Dark Side and go all Color Crazy on you, but hopefully I'll be able to incorporate some more colorful elements into my looks this season.

Though I'll have to do it fast - it feels like fall has just barely arrived, and still I know that those sneaky snowflakes will start falling any day now! And in Sweden, winter means a whole different wardrobe, where keeping warm needs to come first. I mean needs to. Putting prettiness first would lead to all of us freezing to death, and there is nothing I'm less keen on than to die young and become a beautiful, fashionable corpse. But with that said, I'm looking forward to the challenge of looking at least semi stylish even with a red nose, covered in six layers of tights! (Yes, I do wear six pairs of tights during the winter months. Might settle for three if I'm wearing thick pants on top.)

Not speaking of colors, but speaking of Monki - today I noticed that there is a new, stunning grey shirt in their webshop, with the most flattering name!

I hope we an all agree on pretending like this was, in fact, named after yours truly. Considering that I walk around most days like a living, breathing billboard for the brand, I think it's only fair that I get to hold on to that sweet, sweet illusion!

Blue Times Two.

2011-10-08T00:58:00.003+02:00

For a 20% discount on this dress, or any other LOVE item, enter ANNIKABLOG20 at the checkout! Valid until October 13th.

Blue one-shoulder dress, LOVE. Grey knitted socks, Lindex. Orange suede wedges, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

I did an awful lot of writing here on the blog yesterday, so I'll try to keep it short today!

I figured this was probably my last chance to wear an outfit as bare as this one before the cold weather arrives - and I took it. I wanted to create a look that smells of summer, sunblock and souvlaki: basically something I'd wear out to dinner while enjoying life on a Greek island.

To get the lip shade I knew I wanted - red, obviously, but with softer and shinier finish than I normally wear - I mixed two colors from Maybelline: I started out with one coat of "Coral Fever", then one coat of "Red Revolution", and topped it off with a touch of my amazing creme bronzer from Manasi Makeup. I usually wear it as blush, but since I wanted that sun-kissed feel, I went all in with the bronzer today - I used it on my lips, cheeks and eyelids, and mixed it with some lotion and applied it onto the collar bones and shoulders.

As you can imagine, I probably wouldn't have worn these knitted socks with the outfit, had I actually been on a Greek island. It was funny, though: I could see that the outfit looked good without the socks, but it just didn't look like me. Something was missing. I tried on the socks with the wedges sort of as a joke, and in an instant the whole look went from, well, a cute outfit, to something I would feel comfortable wearing. That's what I think is so fascinating about personal style, when you find those little things that you can use to make an outfit yours. It can be the tiniest details, and they don't even have to look good, as long as they're right for you! This time, for me, it was a pair of knitted grey socks. Apparently.

Right, keep it short. Okay. I guess I'll just watch the latest Glee episode with my kitties (my little girl absolutely loves music, so Glee is her favorite tv show - she and I really must be related!) and leave you guys to it. By the way, thank you so much for your incredible comments on my last post - I can't believe you took the time to read through all that! You're all wonderful, and you deserve the best weekend possible. You always do.

The Answers, Part 3: Blogging.

2011-10-06T14:56:00.002+02:00

Turns out answering your questions takes a lot more time than I expected - so I suppose it's a good thing it's a lot of fun!

Part 3
My blog, your blog, everybody's blogs!

Writing this post, I realized that the subject of blogging is a little bit hard to illustrate with photos. In the end, I decided to use the oldest outfit photos I could find, back from when I first started blogging about fashion and my style in 2006 and then the following two years. (Before that, I had a blog that only focused on indie music - no outfit posts there.) Hopefully you'll find that my outfit photography has gone through some slight improvements since then!

Can you give us some good tips for starting a blog?
(Asked by Valiera Meli and Chippie)

This is going to be a loooong answer... bear with me!

I believe the most important part is to decide what kind of blog you want, and what you wish to accomplish with it. Do you want to write about your everyday life, for your friends, family and relatives to read? Do you want a photography/art/writing/design blog to showcase your work to future employers, a personal style blog where you post looks once in a while - or do you hope to get billions of readers and make your blog your full-time job? (If you do get billions of readers, wow, I'll be seriously impressed!)

As boring as it may sound, it's necessary to be realistic: If you're a very busy person who has time to blog once or twice a week, it might be hard to reach a large audience. Basically, you will get results based on the kind of work and effort you're willing to put into it.

It always makes me sad to get e-mail and comments from bloggers who ask how I got "so many readers in so little time" (relatively speaking), telling me how they've been blogging for months or years and still haven't gained the kind of recognition they were hoping for. It's always hard to reply to these letters, because I really don't want to hurt anyone's feelings - but once again, realistic is the key word here. When I click onto these blogs, more often than not I find the same things: a messy layout, very few photos of the blogger herself or photos in poor quality, and posts that are either written in a language I don't understand or, if in English, extremely short: "this is what I wore today, I went out with my friends and had fun".

Note: None of this is wrong! Absolutely not. Every blog is as unique as the person who writes it and I love the fact that there are such an enormous variety of blogs out there. But, when it comes to personal style blogs - because there are so many for potential readers to choose from - I would say that there are four criterias that truly matter if you want a large, devoted group of readers:

* High quality outfit photos.
Let's be frank: the outfit photos are the foundation of a personal style blog. With better photos, you will get more readers. It's that simple. I often see bloggers making excuses for the poor quality: "sorry, I don't have a good camera/I don't have a place to take my photos, and there is noone I can ask to take them for me, so I have to shoot my outfits with my cellphone camera in the mirror". And this is all perfectly fine - gosh, all bloggers can't be expected to own a fancy camera and a tripod or have a photographer friend/parent/partner around all the time! - but unfortunately, that means that not as many people are going to follow their blogs. I will be honest: all the blogs I really like have immensely professional looking photographs.

When I first wanted to start sharing my style on my blog, back in 2006, I lived in a tiny one room apartment and had no idea how to use the Canon EOS 350 D I borrowed from a guy who worked at the university I went to. (It belonged to the school, he was in charge of it, and I told him I was doing a photo project for school. Liar liar pants on fire, I know - it was for a good cause, though! I truly wanted to learn about photography!) Except for inside the apartment or on the balcony, I had two options when it came to outfit photo locations: the shared storage area in the attic and the shared storage area in the basement. As I got bolder, I even started taking self-timer photos in the stairwell and elevator, making my neighbours think there was something seriously wrong with me...

In time, I saved up to buy my own camera, and I might not have been the most talented photography enthusiast - though I sure was persistent. And practice may not have made perfect yet, but five years later, I have far from given up on learning!

Anyway, back to the point: noone is a great photographer when they start out, and still: if you wish to have a successful style blog featuring your own outfits, you have to go for it. Put a decent camera as the only item on your wish list this Christmas (an early model of the Canon EOS series is not too expensive if you buy it used) and practice, practice, practice! Read every tutorial you can find, learn about lighting, framing and editing, try to copy the photos of your favorite bloggers until you find your own individual style.

Or - don't. Don't do any of this. But please don't be disappointed if not too many people start following your style blog.

* A clean, user-friendly layout.
If you think graphic design is the most boring thing ever and you can't seem to figure out how to use even the simplest template design program (like the one here on blogger) - just choose a basic, ready-made template and stick with it. Having a blog with an individual look is much less important than having a blog that's easy to navigate, where everything is where it should be, with a basic font on a light background. I have come across an insane amount of blogs where a purple or yellow comic sans is used on a pretty, blue flower print background and... well, put nicely: it makes the blog posts a bit hard to read (and triggers my migraines). Flowers and hearts and bunnies are cute but if you want people to come back to your blog, make sure the post background is as clean as possible.

* Continuity.
The best way to make people take the time to check your blog is if you take the time to update it. Often. How often? As often as you can without starting to feel like it's an obligation and not something you do because it's a fun, rewarding hobby. Many of my favorite blogs update once a day - that means they've quickly become a part of my daily internet routine, succeeding to turn me into a much more loyal follower than if they would have updated, say, once a week. Because of this, I try to post something every day - but not if I'm busy with other things. As long as I don't get money out of this blog, I have to treat it as a hobby, and post only when I have free time. When I don't blog every day, I obviously can't be surprised when I have a lot fewer visitors the days when I'm not active - as well as noone else should be if they don't blog daily.

* Engaging writing with a personal voice.
This doesn't mean that you can't be an amazing blogger if you're not a writer. But your readers want to get to know you. Your blog is unique because you are unique, and you need to show your readers who you are if you want a chance to stand out from every other blogger out there.

Of course you don't have to take a leaf out of my book and tell your readers about everything from bullying to depression - but how about sharing details from your everyday life? To me, when I read through a new blog, it's all about the specifics. Those bits of information that makes you you.

Example 1: "Today I woke up, had breakfast, went to school and then out with some friends. School was a disaster but my friends and I had a great time!"

Sorry, love, but this could have been written by anyone. Where are you in all of this?

Let's try it again - Example 2: "My alarm went off at 6:30 this morning, I snoozed six times and nearly missed the bus to school. Honestly, I almost wish I had - turned out we had a pop quiz in my French class first period, and I was still so tired I could hardly even spell my own name! Hopefully I did okay anyway (I'm praying all those times I've watched Amélie have paid off!), but gosh, I should start going to bed earlier. It just seems like all the best tv shows come on when most people have been asleep for hours..."

So, we're only on the first part of your day, and I still feel like I know you sooo much better.

And, while we're on writing, a few words about languages: If you're okay at writing in English, that's obviously a great way to reach way more readers than if you write in a language not very many people speak. But if you feel like what you could express in English is a lot closer to Example 1 than Example 2 above, and you don't have a strong desire to improve your skills, I suggest you stick to your mother tounge and just let people from other countries use google translate. The important thing is that you feel free and confident to write about whatever you wish!

To summarize: If you have a blog with a clean layout that is updated consistently, with outfit photos you put some effort into and writing that shows who you are and what makes you special, people will love it. Be realistic in your expectations: if you're not willing to put a lot of time or effort into your blog, don't be sad when you don't get that many readers. Blog because you enjoy it and there's no doubt that it will pay off!

Two more things: when you start your blog, of course you want people to discover it as soon as possible. If your blog is about your style, being an active user on Chictopia and Lookbook is a splendid way of letting people know you exist, as well as commenting on other people's blogs.
But: 1) A good idea is to make sure your blog already has some content when you start telling others about it, or chances are they might not come back.
2) Everyone knows commenting on blogs could be a way to get more readers, but your comments should be personal and not feel like spam if this is going to work at all. Show that you're interested in what the blogger has written in his or her post, or if you only comment an outfit, at least put some thought into it. I can tell you that a "Cool! Visit me on http://www.myblog.blogspot.com, follow me and I'll follow you back!" is not the best way way to make your blog successful. Really. It's not. Instead, follow the blogs you really like, tell the blogger why you like it, show genuine interest and then, yes, by all means - tell the blogger that you'd love it if she or he would like to check out your blog. I check out the blogs of everyone who comments here, but I want to do it because I'm interested, not because I'm told to. At least to me, the blogger community is about expressing yourself, making friends, being inspired by others and create meaningful relationships, not collecting followers just for the sake of it.

I hope this response wasn't too negative! Blogging should be fun, write about what you love, be yourself and don't worry if it takes a little bit of time for people to find you - they will!

If you have a large Swedish audience, do you think it would be wise to write in two languages or are you relying on the readers' English skills?
(Asked by Piia)

Actually, Swedish people are generally very good at both reading and speaking English - probably a combination of learning the language in school from an early age and the fact that we don't dub movies or tv-shows. Because of that, I don't think it's a problem. Writing each post in two languages would take me forever, so that is definitely not an option. I know some people would prefer it if I wrote in Swedish, but I love the fact that I am now able to communicate with people from all over the world!

How do you have the guts to spill your guts with us? I adore that you're so honest!
(Asked by Emmakisstina)

Thank you! Honestly, I don't even think about it. I've written online journals ever since the birth of internet communities (they all had a "diary" function), so for the past... 14 years, or so. I've always been kind of a lonely person, and writing about myself and my life on the internet has been my way of expressing myself, a sort of therapy, one might even say; as well as a way of making friends. And eventually, writing about my feelings, thoughts, opinions and experiences turned into my profession, so it definitely hasn't been for nothing! (As a columnist, not as a blogger, I might add.)

And the "honesty" part... I just don't see any point in not sharing my thoughts with other people. I can't see that I would feel better in any way by keeping it all inside, probably the opposite. I don't write anything that I wouldn't want my family, neighbours, employers or anyone else to read - the way I think and feel about things are no secrets.

Are you never afraid of revealing to much about yourself online?
(Asked by Shirins)

Not at all. After all this time, it comes extremely naturally to me what to share and what not to. I don't mind one bit that complete strangers know intimate details about my life - if we all shared more about ourselves with others, I think the empathy in the world would be a lot more extensive! I could never have a blog where I pretended like everything was peachy all the time, then the blog would mean nothing to me and I wouldn't have any chance at all of reaching out to people who might be or have been in similar situations.

Do you have a "policy" about how much you include friends and family in your posts?
(Asked by Sara)

Sure, a very simple one: I would never, ever, ever write sensitive things on the blog about anyone else. (Unless they want me to or approve it, of course.) If I want to write something about myself that involves another person, I'll either check if it's okay or just try to work around it. This is my blog and noone should have to feel like they're being exploited in any way.

Do you ever feel that your boyfriend isn't supportive or understanding enough with the whole blogging thing. I don't know why, but I sometimes have had that feeling...
(Asked by Nina)

My boyfriend is absolutely supportive in the sense that he thinks it's great that I have a hobby I'm passionate about. When we were in New York, he did help out with the outfit photos from time to time (since I wasn't able to take my own like I'm used to), but I do think I believes it's a bit silly. He sometimes says that he can't understand why people would want to look at photos of the same person over and over again, and he's got zero interest in fashion, so I wouldn't say that he's my most devoted follower! No, but actually, I think he's a little bit too supportive - sometimes I think "oh, if only you knew how much time and energy I spend on this blog, maybe you wouldn't think it's such a good idea after all", haha!

...

You know what? This was just the first part of the blogging questions - but I felt the post would be ridiculously long if I didn't cut it in half. I mean, it already is. Imagine it being twice as massive!

(I also wrote about blogging in the post "About becoming a braver, more confident person - through fashion blogging.")

Now I'm off to have dinner with friends - my bus leaves in twenty minutes and I haven't even showered yet. Why do I always do this? Told you this blog takes up too much of my time! Luckily, you're all completely worth it.

How many times must a cannon ball fly, before they are forever banned?

2011-10-05T15:05:00.004+02:00

For a 20% discount on all LOVE items, enter ANNIKABLOG20 at the checkout! Valid until October 13th.

Navy tie-up shirt, Asos. Pleated asymmetrical floral print maxi skirt, LOVE. Red patent boots, Vagabond.

(Photos by me.)

Fall might be the season I appreciate the most out of the four, but I can't say I mind that we've had t-shirt weather for weeks now! I'm especially grateful for the fact that I can walk around bare-legged - sure, socks and tights are sort of my thing, but believe me, I'll have plenty of time to wear every pair I own out over the next... seven months. Brrrr.

I completely adore this sheer maxi skirt, and I know it will look absolutely great paired with layers and layers of appropriate fall pieces when the weather finally realizes it's October. What's not great is my imagination: I only own two maxi skirts, and they're both dark and covered by colorful flowers. What can I say - apparently I know what I like, and I'm sticking to it!

Just so you know, I'm working on more answers for the q&a - it takes a lot more time than I thought it would, but then again, I certainly don't mind writing endless amounts about myself... Self-absorbed, who, me?

My current project, which basically fills my days from sunrise to sunset, is to get my house in order. I'm sorting out old clothes and things I don't use, doing all the laundry that I've been postponing, and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. I have a theory that seems pretty reasonable: if my surroundings aren't so insanely messy, my head might get a little bit more peaceful and structured, as well. One thing is for sure - it can't hurt.

One more thing! For all of you who didn't win the LOVE giveaway here on the blog, from today until the 13th (a week from now), you can get your hands on any LOVE item with a 20% discount! (Except for things that are already on sale.) All you have to do is enter the code ANNIKABLOG20 at the checkout, and the discount will be deducted from your order.

I can hear my vacuum cleaner calling me... I'd better see what it wants. Talk to you soon!

High on diesel and gasoline?

2011-10-03T20:36:00.001+02:00

December, 2007.

I had a blog called "Beautiful Ones".

I also had a new (well, charity-shopped) faux fur hat and a crappy digital camera that could record video.

I was very, very bored.

That's when these things happen.

My Monki Wishlist: The Dark Side.

2011-10-03T16:00:00.001+02:00

"Dannie" washed out grey denim shirt with cut-off sleeves. "Mary" cropped knitted grey sweater with pocket.

"Mona" black platform boots with chunky heels. "Yin" black knitted tube scarf.

"Clapton" black loose-fit t-shirt with pocket. "Elana" thick black wool cape.

"Betty" black lace bra and panties. "Enila" black pants. "Lindy" sheer black shirt.

"Calista" black faux fur jacket. "Silvia" black blouse with white peter pan collar.

I guess I should start by clarifying that I am in no way sponsored by Monki - it's simply my favorite store concept/brand, and a significant majority of my clothes were bought there. So now that they finally have a webshop, of course I want you guys to discover it, too!

These are some of the items I would absolutely love to stroll around in this fall, and although I can't afford them, at least I can drool over them in front of my computer screen! I figure, if I look at them long enough, eventually I'll get bored with these clothes the same way I would if I'd worn them a hundred times. Not sure that's going to work, unfortunately. I bought the pants I'm wearing right now at Monki a year ago, and I've worn them and endless amount of times - they're my go-to pants, no doubt - and nope, still not bored.

This is only part one of my wishlist - I'm also going to share a color splash before I'm all done! Like so many others, I tend to go very black and grey during the colder seasons. I really do try to add some color now and then, because I'm certain bright colors brighten one's mood as well - but it's hard to deny that black pieces provide a classic fall and winter base for any outfit.

And how amazing are those chunky heeled boots?! And the knitted tube scarf, and the... well, all of it?

Fretalian Friday.

2011-10-02T17:59:00.003+02:00

Cobalt blue dress and mustard beret, Monki. Snakeskin print belt, Asos. White lace socks, Lindex. Black suede wedges, Steve Madden.

(Photos by me.)

My favorite clothing store in the whole world, Monki, now has a webshop. This is both fantastic - since I rarely have enough time or energy to drive for hours to get to one of their stores - and very, very dangerous. How am I supposed to refrain from indulging in all that awesomeness when it's right there, only a few clicks away?

I decided that the best way was to go through all the different categories and order the five items I, ehmmm, "couldn't live without" (yeah right) - oh, and maybe I should mention that this is an incredibly affordable brand - and now I have begun a complete no-shopping-regimen. The somewhat disturbing reality is that I own tons and tons of clothes and shoes that I haven't even worn yet - ergo, no use whatsoever for more shopping.

This mustard beret and cobalt blue sheer chiffon dress were two of the "can't live without" pieces, and I love the way the colors compliment each other. I wore this on Friday when we had friends visiting - Ronnie made the most delicious Italian dinner, which I didn't match that well, fashion-wise, since I was going for more of a French touch. Whatever, we'll just call it European Fusion! Or maybe... Fretalian?

Our friends were, as you can see, absolutely thrilled to get to spend their weekend in our lovely house. Sure, it could be that they're just crazy about eachother, but I prefer to think that they were blown away by our company.

Biianka, who is usually not too excited about having new people in the house, turned out to be quite the friendly little darling all night. Here: one cute kitty butt.

Ronnie has an awful lot of amazing qualities, and cooking is definitely one of them!

I was in charge of the Saturday morning breakfast, and I took my task quite seriously - I baked not only one loaf of bread, but two! A dark bread with lingonberries, raisins, cranberries and pumpkin- and sunflower seeds. I had one of my sandwiches with brie, parma ham, tomatoe and basil and the other with brie and apricot marmalade.

All in all, it's been quite the pleasant weekend - I hope you've had a good one, too!

"You're in. You can leave the runway."

2011-09-30T12:51:00.001+02:00

High-waisted grey pants, Johanna Vikman. Black sleeveless sheer blouse and white lace bra, Monki. Red zipper wedges, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

I have about six hundred and eighty-three things to do today, before I go and pick up our friends David and Emma at the train station in... five and a half hours. So for once, I won't bore you with details about how much I like these pants but how I can never get them to look as good in photos as they do in real life, how ugly I think these wedges are but how they also somehow manage to be sort of awesome, or how - oh, right. Not bore you. 683 things to do. I should get to it.

So I'm just going to say: This is what I wore to work yesterday (and by work I mean I was hanging out in my beautiful office, trying to get things done - that reminds me, I should show you what the office looks like now that it's all furnished!). I was especially happy with the hair. Thought it looked a little catwalk-esque (you know what I mean, don't you?), and the bun actually stayed in place all day, even though it was only held up by a couple of bobby pins.

I hope you're all having a terrific Friday, and I'll talk to you again soon - we have another giveaway coming up...

PS. The title has nothing to do with the post, I know. I've just been watching way too much Project Runway lately. DS.

THE Coat.

2011-09-29T15:47:00.001+02:00

Black dress from LOVE, grey and black ribbed over knee socks from Asos, dark brown wedges from Nelly and black coat from Monki.

(Photos by me.)

You've already seen this outfit, but I wanted to show you my favorite coat! I got in on sale at Monki last fall, paid practically nothing, and I'm very certain I'll be wearing this for years and years. It's the perfect length, and I adore the simplicity and elegance of the shape. Really, it's not very often that I find an item that just feels so much like me - if I had to choose one single piece of clothing that would represent my style, it definitely would not be an easy pick, but this coat is a very likely candidate.

Oh, and we do have a winner of the LOVE giveaway! I hope you know I wish you could all get the dress of your choice sent home, but random.org decided that the lucky lady this time should be Kat. Congratulations, dear - the LOVE Garden Print Maxi Dress is yours! And to the rest of you - the giveaways will just keep on coming...

My Favorite Girls.

2011-09-28T14:13:00.001+02:00

Hmmm... I'm wondering if Amanda needs to borrow money or something. Why else would she flatter her big sister with this beautiful drawing? Huh?

(Well, baby, I don't really have a lot of money at the moment - what a surprise, right - but you can borrow all the clothes you want! And thank you for the portrait - it's amazing.)

You know, I'm one lucky girl. I don't just have one wonderful sister, but two. And it looks like I'll be celebrating Christmas this year with both of them! This might not sound like a big deal at all to you, but for me, it's huge. Wendi (who lives with our dad in Los Angeles) has only been to Sweden once before, last summer, and I can't wait to show her our dark, freezing cold and yet quite spectacular Swedish winter! Just the thought of spending the holidays with both my favorite girls... it's a pure blessing.

With Amanda, three years ago...


...and with Wendi, seven (!) years ago.

A Tuesday Update.

2011-09-27T18:52:00.000+02:00

After driving for an hour with the most annoying period cramps, I'm now sitting in my parked car, waiting to see my psychologist. This will be our third appointment and today we're supposed to discuss how to move forward - what kind of therapy she thinks I would be best suited for (if any), I guess. Since I've only seen her twice so far, I don't feel like I've opened up yet - I've tried, but really, she's still a stranger. And sharing your most secret thoughts with a complete stranger is not a piece of cake for me. Seriously, if she would have read every post in this blog, she would know more about me than she does right now. I'm not saying this is bad, I'm just not sure how she could make a decision about our, ehmm, "future together" when her knowledge of me and my situation is still on such a basic level. But then again... I guess that's part of her job. And she definitely seems to know what she's doing.

Anyway, just wanted to say hi and let you know that I'm alive and (somewhat) well. Nothing new. I hope you're all fine and excited for this last week of September. Not sure why you should be, but I do hope that you are!

Love,
Annika

"Warning: This movie can lead to severe headaches, caused by excessive crying."

2011-09-26T15:36:00.000+02:00

Wow. I really need to start looking into what movies I watch before I press play.

While scrolling through our "video on demand"-list, I've noticed this Natalie Portman film that I've never heard about, thinking I'll watch it one of those grey days when getting up from the couch seems impossible. The title is "The Other Woman", and the short summary says: "On Manhattan, twenty-two year old Emilia Greenleaf - a lawyer and Harvard graduate - is in love with her boss Jack Woolf, and they're having an affair. Jack's marriage is a sham but his son, William, is his proud and joy. Emilia soon discovers she's pregnant, and Jack gets divorced... (press 'info' for more information.)"

I didn't press "info" for more information. I settled for this oh-so-captivating and well written description (har har har) and went for it, since today without question is one of those grey days I was saving this movie for. I figured, hey - Natalie Portman is one of my favorite actresses, I'll get to watch her prance around Manhattan being the other woman, she's going to get pregnant, what's not to like?

Sure, now that I've watched it, I did press "info" for more information and okay, it's all right there. Loud all clear. Not that it matters, it's too late now; I've already cried my eyes out for two hours straight, my head is pounding the way it does when you're all out of tears, and getting up from the couch seems even more impossible than it did before I started to watch this saddest of sad movies.

THEY SHOULD PUT A WARNING LABEL ON MOVIES AS SAD AS THIS ONE! You shouldn't have to press for more info! Honestly, I think it's disrespectful to people like me to just fill a movie with unbearable sadness and not warn us properly!

Like when I was on the plane to Los Angeles in October last year, only days after we buried my best friend. Exhausted and too terrified of flying to be able to get any sleep, I chose to watch a film that seemed to be exactly what I was looking for: Miley Cyrus playing a rebellious teenage girl who spends the summer at her father's beach house, meets her first love bla bla bla. No "press for more info". Let me tell you, not a word about the fact that the whole darn movie is going to be about how this girl has to watch her father die from cancer. Of course they didn't mention that part, of course not! It's a twist, a surprise, yay! Everyone loves surprises, right? I mean, I know I do! I just love me a cancer surprise!

Oh, I could have stopped watching? That's true. Except that no, I couldn't. Because a part of me was hoping, desperately, that her dad would fight the disease and that the ending scene would not take place at his funeral. Or maybe I'm simply an emotional masochist. That's actually very likely.

Separating facts from fiction is something I've never been particularly good at. Actually, I suck at it. Well, not intellectually - of course I know what's fiction and what's reality - but emotionally. One of my most vivid childhood memories is watching "My Girl" - Macaulay Culkin dies of a bee sting, it's devastating, I'll tell you - and then crying for hours and hours. I remember it so clearly because my mom finally sat down next to me on the bed and told me, very gently, that it was time to stop crying. That this reaction would be natural if, say, she would die - but not when the deceased is a character in a movie. And she didn't have to say it, I just felt it, I knew: she was worried about me, about how I would handle going through life with all of its hardships, when I was this upset about a stupid film. And honestly, I was, too. I still am. When my heart breaks from reading a book or a magazine article, watching a film or a tv-series, how am I supposed to survive the real tragedies in my life? I simply don't know.

Anyway. I am now warning you: "The Other Woman" with Natalie Portman is really, really good but really, really sad! Be prepared. Just saying.

Bedazzled.

2011-09-25T16:40:00.002+02:00

Embellished low back dress, LOVE. Grey and black over knee socks, Asos.com. Brown wedges, Nelly.com.

(Photos by me.)

I usually prefer wearing dresses that leave a lot more to the imagination, but when I found this dress on the LOVE website, it was just obvious that I'm supposed to own it. I think the low-cut back is ridiculously pretty, and all the embellished details are perfect for someone like me, who isn't a big fan of accessories (to say the least). Now the dress is accessorizing for me!

Since I got the dress online, I was a bit worried that it might not fit me all that well - I find that these tight little numbers are very often too tight over the hips, and if they're not, they're too loose around the waist. But this time, I got lucky: the dress turned out to be a tiny bit too tight over the hips and a tiny bit too loose around the waist - I can most certainly live with that! (Oh, and when I say "hips", of course I mean "hips and ass". Bum, butt, bottom, booty! I do have one of those.)

Well, I be honest with you guys: I didn't wear this out last night, so noone got to see me in all my sassy bootyliciousness. I mean, I would have worn it out, if I had gone out. But I didn't. I stayed home and overdosed on chocolate and old Project Runway episodes, tried to get rid of my (chocolate-induced?) headache and played with the pretty, pretty katz. Did I at least wear this fancy dress while doing this? Ummm... let's say I did. (Or maybe that's just sad. Either way.)

Anyway - sometimes I like trying on an outfit so that next time I'm actually going out, I know what to throw on and don't have to think about it.

This particular outfit looked especially smahing (if I may say so myself) with my favorite coat, but I didn't want you to have to look at a thousand photos in the same post, so we're saving those for later.

If you'd like to take on the night in this dress - or any other gorgeous dress from LOVE - there's still time to enter the LOVE giveaway!

Bye Bye Birdie?

2011-09-25T09:44:00.000+02:00

Nature sure is cruel. This pretty birdie was given wings, it could fly anywhere in the world it wants to go - but it's also stuck a brain with so little sense of orientation that it can't even find its way out of a room with no less than two wide open doors.

Biianka doesn't think this is cruel at all. She thinks it's awesome. Because she happens to find the taste of birds deeee-lish, and she especially appreciates when dinner practically comes flying straight into her mouth.

(Luckily, this all ended well for our little friend the bird. Biianka chased it, making the poor thing bump into window after window, until it finally - thank goodness - came across one of the open doors and flew outside. And Bii might be able to jump really high, but as we all know: for birds, the sky is the limit.)

Well-behaved women rarely make history.

2011-09-24T15:37:00.006+02:00

Cropped white t-shirt, "Well-behaved women rarely make history", Avanna. Black sequin pants, H&M. Burgundy beret, Åhléns. Black and white studded brogues, Nelly.com.

(Photos by me.)

I feel like there has been an awful lot of writing and not that many actual outfit posts on this blog lately. To be honest, that's more a fact than a feeling. The explanation is quite simple: I haven't been feeling so great. And I'd never, ever force myself to put on an outfit and take photos just for the sake of it - if I'm not in the mood, and feel like walking around in the same knitted sweater and chinos for five days straight, that has to be okay, too. Blog or no blog. (This spectacular five day outfit was captured in photos when my darling friend Anna was here - careful, I might show it to you!)

Another thing that makes outfit photos less likely when I'm sad, worried and stressed out is that my complexion seems weirdly connected to my well-being. Simply put: when my life sucks, my skin sucks. As soon as I start feeling really low, my face breaks out in something in between zits and flesh wounds. My face hurts constantly and the minute one sore starts to heal, I get ten more. Except for the constant throbbing pain in my skin, it's allright - I don't mind looking like I have the chicken pox, and my boyfriend claims he doesn't even notice it - but outfit photos, that's another thing. Call me superficial, but this condition isn't really something I'm excited to photograph and flaunt online.

But these last few days, I've done my very best to relaxe and be kind to myself, and the different is quite remarkable - inside and out. I do feel a lot better, and I even managed to drag out the old camera and tripod! The result, you can see above: the weirdest and most awesome pants I own, my favorite brogues and a cropped Avanna t-shirt with a message that we all need to be reminded of from time to time.

"Well-behaved women rarely make history". More often than not, I wish I was a lot less concerned with being, well, well-behaved. Not that manners are not important - but I do spend an awful lot of time an energy trying to behave and act the way people expect me to, instead of doing what I really want.

Though I think I'm getting gradually better at respecting my own true feelings and wishes, realizing that in the end, I'm the one who has to live with my choices and decisions. I might not ever come close to making any sort of history, but I am getting closer to creating the kind of life I wish to live.

Did you give the world some LOVE today, baby?

2011-09-23T09:35:00.001+02:00

Did you love the dress I wore to the Blog Awards on Saturday? I know I do - and now it's time to spread the LOVE!

I'm happy to announce that the amazing brand LOVE is sponsoring this giveaway, where the lucky winner gets to pick out any dress of her choice at their website, www.inlovewithfashion.com!

~~To enter, all you have to do is this:~~

~~1) Make sure you're following According to Annika on either google friend connect or Bloglovin' (or both, if you're extra awesome!)...~~
~~2) ...like According to Annika on Facebook...~~
~~3) ...like LOVE on Facebook...~~
~~4) ...and let me know in the comments - with a link - which LOVE dress from their website is your absolute favorite!~~

~~Just like last time, you get extra entries when you tell your friends about this giveaway through Facebook, twitter or your blog.~~

~~(Be sure to submit your e-mail address so that I can contact you if you win!)~~

~~Let's do this!~~

The winner of this giveaway is Kat - congratulations!

About Embracing Your Curves.

2011-09-22T18:39:00.001+02:00

A new issue of the Swedish fashion magazine Sofis mode came out in stores yesterday. Nothing remarkable about that. Except that inside it, you can find my very last column. Well, my last column in this particular magazine, that is.

Three years have gone by since I wrote my first one in Sofis mode; it looked something like this:

For three years, these columns were such a big part of my life. I have written hundreds, about every subject you can think of. I will admit that it feels a little bit sad - the same kind of sadness that you can feel when graduating from high school, or ending a long relationship that you know you're ready to move away from. You know it's time to move on, forward, onto something new and different; yet you can't deny it hurts to let go.

But I'm so glad that the new columnist is no other than my blogger colleague and dear friend Sandra Beijer of the blog NioTillFem! Back in July, when I had finally decided it was time for me to leave Sofis mode, I was hanging out with Sandra in Brooklyn - and there and then, I just knew she was the perfect replacement. A couple of weeks ago, I found out that my boss agrees with me, and that Sandra is now hired to take over!

In this particular issue, you can also find my feature of one of the most admirable, talented and beautiful young women I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know. There is no doubt in my mind that Rosalind Jana of Clothes, Cameras and Coffee will be a household name in ten years, and I can't wait to see what will become of her. Who knows - maybe the next J.K. Rowling?

Rosalind naturally wished to read a translation of her story before it was shipped off to print, so since I already have an English version of her feature, I figured I'd share it with you!

Rosalind Jana was fifteen years old and certainly had nothing to complain about. Her fashion- and photography blog was both popular and well respected, she was working as a model and dreamed of a career in fashion design.

Only one cloud on an otherwise so bright sky. And it was nothing to worry about, really. The doctor had told her she should live with her disease, and so she did - her long hair and carefully selected clothing were quite effective as camouflage, you could hardly tell anything was even wrong. Right?

But Rosalind Jana's parents couldn't help noticing what she herself refused to see. In October last year, they asked another consultant for a second opinion. With her spine now bent at an eighty degree angle, there was no more talk about "living with it". Rosalind Jana needed surgery for her severe scoliosis, and she needed it now. How did next week sound?

A year later, life is back to normal. Yet so different.

The modelling career and designer dreams have stepped back to give room to a new - or, rather, rediscovered - passion: the art of writing.

- Undergoing surgery turned out to be a catalyst for change, as it made me re-evaluate my aspirations for the future. I started writing extensively for myself about what I had been through, and came to the conclusion that writing was something that I was both passionate about and willing to work at. It reminded me how much I love words!

And the love was far from unrequited. Quite the opposite, actually. Rosalind Jana recently found out she's been selected as the winner of the UK Vogue annual talent contest for writers under 25 - one of the country's most preeminently prestigious writing awards.

- Through this whole experience, I have learnt to be as open as possible to changes, and let go of fixed ideas about outcomes. I couldn’t possibly have predicted how much I would come to love my scoliosis! It has taught me to be grateful for all sorts of tiny achievements, and it's made me feel even more that life is not for wasting. I’m not perfectly straight even now – I still have a twenty-two degree curvature and a slightly skewed shoulder – but hey, I’m doing what the magazines suggest: I'm embracing my curves!

Visit Rosalind's blog here.

...oh, and the Sofifi parka giveaway is now over - the winner is miss Mariel Torres! Congrats, Mariel - I hope you'll love yours as much as I do mine. To the rest of you: New giveaway will be announced tomorrow!

365 days of darkness.

2011-09-21T16:03:00.001+02:00

It’s been a year today and even the sky is weeping.

A year. The darkest 365 days of my life.

I went to see a movie a couple of weeks back, about a fourteen year old girl who loses her twin sister in an accident. In the ending scene, it’s been a year since her death, and everyone is smiling, laughing, remembering their sister/daughter/friend with joy. A pretty butterfly comes fluttering in through an open window, they all get excited, ”of course it’s her!”.

This is all like science fiction to me.

It doesn’t get easier. It gets harder, with every passing day. The pain is as excruciating today as it was 365 days ago, if not more so. Each day without her makes it all the more obvious that she’s not coming back.

You should have met this girl, you should have seen her light up a room, you should have met me back when I had a best friend that would be mine forever. I was so different then. Stronger, brighter, wonderfully naïve. I had the glow of someone who knew she’d won the friendship lottery and would never, ever have to be alone again.

Imagine having found that person, that one person, your person. Who gets you, who sees you for exactly who you are and who loves you endlessly because you are you and noone else.

Imagine looking forward at the rest of your life with such excitement, dreaming, wishing, making plans; safe in knowing that whatever happens, you will get through it together.

Then imagine losing it all.

Imagine spending eight months watching your one person fading away, getting weaker and more tired, but never giving up hope. Imagine holding her hand when she’s in so much pain she can barely breathe, telling her about all the amazing things you’re going to do together as soon as they’ve found a cure and she can finally leave that stupid hospital bed.

Imagine praying with all your might that you’re not wrong. Though knowing, deep down, that you are.

Imagine kissing her goodbye, telling her how much you love her and that you will see her soon, so very soon; imagine leaving her hospital room at 2 am a cool September night and then never talking to her again.

A part of me was relieved, that afternoon of September the 21st 2010, when Fanny’s older sister Lisa called me and told me it was all over.

A part of me thought is was all for the best. That she could finally rest now. We could all rest.

And then she would come back. Stronger, healthier, happier than ever.

I still can’t fathom that she didn’t. That she just kept on being dead.

We even buried her. She has a grave. The way dead people do.

And I’m supposed to move on.

My chest was torn open and my heart ripped out, my hopes and dreams and plans crushed and scattered on the ground, and I’m supposed to move on.

I wake up every morning knowing that she’s gone, and I’m supposed to move on.

I really should. Everyone wants me, needs me, to. Just live my life to the fullest and maybe now and then, when it’s her birthday or when a song comes on the radio that we both loved, I should wipe away a tear and say that wow, what we had was rare and magnificent and I’m grateful I got to experience such a beautiful friendship.

I really should. Because the people in my life all think it’s very sad that I lost my best friend and that it must suck for me, and they listen to me and comfort me the best they can and tell me to take one day at a time and that time heals all wounds, they tell me that once and twice and a hundred times but eventually it gets a bit old, nothing new and revolutionary happens really, it’s the same tears over the same girl who died of the same fucking cancer and isn’t it time for those wounds to heal soon, at least a little bit?

I know how boring it is that I don’t know how to move on. I know I’m supposed to think of Fanny with light and joy in my heart, I know I’m supposed to see a butterfly and think that it’s her and smile and feel like she’s with me, watching over me, and so on.

I’m so sorry that I can’t. I’m so sorry that I wake up, this morning just like every morning, stunned with pain. I’m sorry that when I see a butterfly all I think is that it’s a terribly sneaky insect, hiding behind its pretty wings so that noone will see what a creepy bug it actually is.

It’s been a year today and I’m supposed to move on. I’m so sorry I can’t. A part of me died with you and I’m afraid the ability to move on was located somewhere in that part.

You are too beautiful to get over.

Honestly. You should just come back. Maybe the reason I can’t move on is that I’m not supposed to. Because you weren’t finished. We weren’t done. Not even close.

I’ll be here, waiting.

Because what else is there?