You know how it is.

You spy a cute item in H&M or Forever 21 and rush over for examination only to find out it has something dumb written on it like, "Feed Me Pizza" or "Emotionally Unavailable" in gothic lettering. You curse the fashion gods and wonder, "WHY? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

Then, when you're reaaaaallllly lucky, you find that perfect tee. It says something cute but not cheesy. Something you can pair with jeans and a leather jacket and look like Cara Delevigne. That shirt that doesn't scream, "I'm annoying as hell".

I think you know what I mean.

Anyways, here are some shirts with slogans that aren't completely terrible.



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Hello Kids,

Did you miss me?

I'm sorry to have left you with such a depressing post about my fucked up marriage. I really should've thrown in a post or two afterwards to make my blog look less sad. But whatever.

Hmmmmm, where do I begin?

Well, I have switched careers. Did I tell you guys I was working at a branding agency? Yeah, well, I worked there for about 4.5 months before realizing that I really don't give a fuck about package design. When I signed on for the job, I thought it an interesting concept. I mean, branding is EVERYTHING these days. Don't believe me? Open up your Instagram. It's alll about the branding. However, I didn't want to spend my days worrying about apparel trims and boxes.

Although I had grown very attached to my coworkers and bosses, I knew that I wasn't meant to be in that industry. My passion lies in film. It always has. And FFS, I'm in LA! I'm smack dab in the middle of the film industry. So, I got a job as an executive assistant (not just an assistant guys, E-X-E-C-U-T-I-V-E! It means something) at an amazing post-production house in Hollywood. I won't say the name on here but we've (they, not me) have worked with big artists like Beyonce, Alessia Cara, Drake, Gwen Stefani, etc. etc. AND THEY HIRED ME!

Sorry, but I'm going to allow my ego to swell a little bit on this one because in the same day, I was offered freelancing work as a publicist's writer. I wrote her a little something about Bill Skarsgård in IT and she loved it!

Not bad for a twenty-two-year-old without a college degree, eh?

Bragging over.

Oh! and guess what? I found love! The sad, scorned, ex-wife of P.W. has found a love again! If you've been paying attention to my Instagram stories, then you've seen him. I don't have his permission to use his name on here and I don't think he knows I'm writing about him BUT we will call him "M". My M.

He's perfect. We've been seeing each other since June but only got serious in August. He's brilliant, handsome, funny. and the sweetest person I know. I had a few mental breakdowns in July-August and showed my insane side, yet he stuck by me. I didn't appreciate him as much as I should have but now I do. And I'm in fucking love with this human. And his little kitten (that he rescued from traffic! I mean, do you die or do you die?!?!!), Pancakes. We make a nice little team.

What more can I tell you?

OOOOH! Olivia has released a book! And guess who makes a star appearance? MEMEMEMEMEME.

In Olivia's book, "Bli Kvar", she details her emotional and heart wrenching breakup from last summer. AKA, the summer we met. I got to read some excerpts from it before it was published, and fuck, it's really good. Keep an eye out for the character named, "Elizabeth", because that's me!!

You can buy O's book here.

Ah, I feel like I'm all out of words even though I'm not. I'm bursting at the seams with all of this information I want to tell you guys. It's been a wild summer and trust me, things will come to light sooner than later.

I love you all and hope you had an amazing summer.

I'll write to you soon! Maybe, I don't know. Don't hold me to it.





Something has been weighing heavily on my mind this past weekend: my failed marriage.

Lately, I have been too busy to even think about it. Work, friends, settling into life in LA. But when I spoke to my mom, she brought up something that struck a nerve (and stayed there for three long days).

“Hey Meg, get this: our neighbor, who was with his girlfriend for EIGHT years and only just got married last year, is getting a divorce”

I’m ashamed to admit this but a huge smiled formed on my face.

YES! I’m not the only one!

I know, I know. That’s terrible of me. But it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only one with a marriage that failed after one year. And they knew each other for eight years prior!

But then the idea of my husband and our marriage latched on to me for three long days. While I moved into my new apartment and tried to distract myself with furniture shopping, he still kept bobbing around in my head. Like an annoying song that you fucking hate but can’t help singing along to.

For one of the days, I thought about the beginning of our marriage. Absolute bliss. See, my husband was a completely different person when we met. You can read it in my early posts. He was charming, sweet, handsome, funny, everything. He was a dream. And when he asked me to marry him, although I was hesitant at first, I knew we would end up marrying each other one day anyways. So, why not?

Fast forward three months, our honeymoon phase was over. Since I couldn’t leave the country, we didn’t take a honeymoon like we were supposed to. He always promised me that when we sorted everything out with Migrationsverket, we would have a real wedding in Thailand and travel around for a couple months after. Instead, our “honeymoon” was shared with his friends. We had parties at our house almost 2x a week. His friends constantly invaded our space and I actually didn’t mind. I had become quite close with most of them. However, I absolutely abhorred some of them and informed my husband of this. Still, they kept showing up with newly purchased items from Systembolaget.

“Oh, how nice is this!”, he would gush and glare at me until I doled out a “thank you”.

Gee, thanks for the 235 KR bottle of vodka. How can I ever repay you?

So, the honeymoon phase ended and our marriage was a constant rollercoaster. He would come home extremely inebriated and angry and I would be terrified. We would fight and scream until one of us decided to sleep on the couch. The first couple of times I ended up taking the couch but after the third time, i would just grab our extra sheets and the worst pillow I could find and drop them on the couch before slamming our bedroom door.

The next morning was accompanied by many kisses and a lot of makeup sex. He would hold my face in his hands and stare deep into my eyes and mind. The I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me routine. And because I loved him, I believed him every time. I reopened my heart (and legs) and forgave him. Every. Single. Time.

I won’t say that it was all bad because it wasn’t. He definitely had his good points to him. Our relationship was confusing to outsiders because they didn’t understand our dynamic. My friends and family constantly urged me to leave and even his friends questioned why I stuck around. I’ll never forget when one of his best friends sat next to me after my husband blew up at me and left.

“Why do you put up with this? He’s awful to you.”

I met his eyes.

“Because he's my husband and I love him"

His friend would give me a hug but I knew what he was thinking: dumb little girl.

But when we were alone, it was different. It was magical. We were constantly laughing and all over each other. I remember one time when we visited his parents in the south of Sweden. We ate a huge dinner and returned to his guest house, looking at each other with pure desire. I need you. Now.

We ended up having sex in the on the floor, maybe two feet from the door. I remember being drunk on wine and sharing laughter as we kept saying, “oh my god, are we doing this? I need you, I love you, take me!”

Afterwards, we lay next to each other in a sweaty heap, the hardwood floor beneath us already beginning to hurt our backs and knees. Our swollen lips just centimeters away, his fingers combing my matted hair.

“I love you most”, he always said.

That portion of our relationship took up the majority of my thoughts on Friday. We had fun. We loved each other. We truly believed that there was absolutely nobody else in the world for us.

What occupied my brain on Saturday and Sunday was the worst moments of our marriage. Pretty much the entire month of January and February. Actually, January was only bad in the last two weeks. However, February was the worst month of my entire life. A constant hell.

I don’t want to place the blame on him 100% but Jesus Christ. There are protocols in marriage. Unspoken rules. Did I really need to voice them? I didn’t want him to do certain things and I thought those things were understood. I didn’t want him to drink hard liquor because he became crazy afterwards. I didn’t want him to come home at 5-7 AM. I didn’t want him to invite random girls over to our apartment (“the guys wanted them here, not me!”, he constantly protested.)

Yeah, but it’s not your job to get your friends laid.

But it fucking pissed me off. One time I came home to a girl wearing my sweater and using my makeup. I saw red and flipped out on her. Poor girl. They had probably told her that it was fine to use my things. That I would be OK with it.

But then again, who the fuck uses a stranger’s makeup?

In December, we had a really bad fight. Cops called, police report filled out. That kind of bad. I thought that was it. I was getting a divorce and I was really going to leave. It was now technically "dangerous" for me to stay. 

Suddenly, he changed (for a brief while). He became my loving husband again. I came home to flowers and kisses on the daily. We had a really nice Christmas together. We had so much fun picking out the tree together and decorating it with beautiful ornaments and lights. On Christmas day, we cuddled together on the sofa, our bellies full of herring and glögg, and I truly thought the worst was over. They always say the first year is the hardest, right? We were almost to our one-year anniversary. The worst was going to be over, right?


My hope was further perpetuated when we went to stay at his parents’ house in January. They were in Florida and we were tucked away in their countryside house. It was really amazing. Just the two of us, a fire always crackling, snow falling lazily outside. We talked about kids a lot during this time. Once in particular, we were walking down the main road and picking our future child’s name.

“Where will he/she go to school? What sports do you think they will play? Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”

I saw us so clearly. My husband walking the dog and me right next to him with a little toddler on my hip. I envisioned us laying on our stomachs in the living room with the baby laying on a PlayMat, cooing his/her approval. Then, my husband and I would look at each other and say, “Wow, we are so lucky”.

Then, around our third week down south, things changed. He was back. The monster within him had returned while I was fast asleep.

I know this because when I woke up alone in bed one morning, he had made his side of the bed. It was weird. It felt militant. And when I went downstairs and saw him hunched over his computer, I was filled with dread. The air was thick with what felt like utter hatred. He was back.

During this time, I got offered a job at an animation studio so I had to go back to the city. Once again, I was hopeful. I thought that maybe things would change and he’d be motivated to work. Instead, he became resentful and hated me more. He would get on me for not doing the laundry or not doing the dishes when I had been at work all day and he hadn’t. I think he was really confused about what a wife was supposed to do. I finally had it one day and exploded.

I screamed that I didn’t have time to do the laundry or dishes because I was actually working and busy. Not fucking around all day. If he wanted me to stay home and be his little kept woman, then he could work a normal job and provide for us 100%. That would’ve been fine. But that’s not what he wanted. He didn’t want to be responsible.

Shit hit the fan in Mid-February.

He started coming home at 5 am almost every night (if he even came home). Sometimes, I actually preferred that he didn’t come home because I didn’t know what kind of mood he would be in. I couldn’t win. I would wake up to an empty bed at 6 AM and begin crying immediately. Then, sometimes I would wake up to him standing over me ominously, the stench of alcohol filling the room. I was the most scared during those times because he didn’t look at me, he looked through me. Like an animal. No emotion.

One morning, I woke up at 9:30 AM and he was nowhere to be found. I called him a million times until he finally came home an hour later. Once again, he stumbled into our room and stared at me. I sat on the bed, wide awake and bubbling with hate, sadness, frustration, and disgust. I picture myself to have looked like a cartoon character: my skin beet red, eyebrows in a sharp furrow, just waiting for him to open his stupid mouth so I could scream. I wanted to scream more than anything. 

This fight was unlike any we had ever had before. I truly hated him at this point and wanted out. I packed a bag to go to Olivia’s and as I opened the door to leave, I turned to him:

“You are not the person I married. I don’t love you anymore. I fucking hate you"

His jaw dropped and I left the apartment, only making it a couple steps before breaking down in tears.

I think I stayed away for a day or so before coming back to grab more of my things. I was beaten down emotionally and wasn't in my right mind. I had developed an attachment to him. An unhealthy one. It was Stockholm Syndrome in Stockholm. I was addicted to my captor.

So, I came home and our door was tripled locked. I knocked on the door and pushed past him to grab my clothes. He sat on the bed and began his dramatics. When I reached passed him, he grabbed me and brought me on top of him. He held onto me so tightly and kissed me, making me fall back in love with him again.

“You can’t be serious”, was the first thing Olivia said when I told her.

Then, another night he came home at 12 AM and woke me up from my sleep.

“We’re moving to Thailand.”

I thought I was dreaming.

“We’re moving to Thailand”, he repeated.

He nestled into bed next to me and launched into his grand idea. We would move to Thailand to be closer to his (family’s) factories. He was too distracted in Stockholm and wanted to take me away. What he left out was the "to start over and fix our marriage" part. We both silently dared each other to say/admit it. 

In the morning, I reminded him of what he had said and he got offended that I questioned his erratic behavior.

“Of course, I meant what I said”

So, that was the end of the discussion. We were moving to Thailand and we would raise our kids there. I know this sounds nuts to read, but that’s really what we were going to do. Then, he did something unspeakable on Feb. 21. A few days after our anniversary.

I can’t go into it. I really can’t. It makes me sick to think about it. But that was the end of it. I had finally had enough. So, I left.

I actually forgave him for a short while. And then, After her fucked me over for the 103904th time, I finally ended it.

I was distraught. I came back to Stockholm to tie up my loose ends and I got to experience the single life. I slept around to try and rid myself of the pain I felt. It didn’t help that one of the guys I slept with regularly lived directly behind the apartment that I shared with my now ex-husband.

I walked around Stockholm feeling like a ghost. I fought hard to stay and was even offered a job there. But at the end, it wasn’t worth it. So, I went home and began piecing myself back together.

Even now, I feel crazy thinking about my marriage. There’s something in me that’s telling me that I shouldn’t think about it because it happened so long ago. But it didn’t! This was so fucking recent. All of this went down only 4-5 months ago! That’s insane. Just as easily as we slipped into marriage, we slipped right back out.

I am trying to not beat myself up when I think about my marriage. It was a very traumatic experience. Even though I have met other guys that I really like, I think I’m still allowed to remember and lament a little bit.

I take back what I said before: I don’t feel happy when other people get divorced. It’s one of the most painful things that a person can go through.

I don't want your pity. I just wanted to tell you the full story.  

Now, I’m done. This is the last thing I will ever write about him.



Wow, where do I even begin?

Well, hellooooo. I’m back. Reporting to you live from my work desk in Downtown Los Angeles.

I have officially lived here for a month and a week which is beyond wild to me.

Where did I even leave off with you guys?! I think I was wildin’ out in Miami and going to job interviews in South Florida. I actually ended up getting the job offer I wanted but the company lost some funding and informed me that I could only intern there. I guess I dodged a bullet with that one.

After that happened, I sat down and wrote down all of the possible cities I might want to live in. I came up with Miami, Los Angeles, New York, and Austin. After much consideration, I crossed New York and Austin off the list. After living in Stockholm, I didn’t want to be cramped in New York City and as for Austin, Texas… Who the fuck was I kidding? I don’t know anything about Texas.

So, then it was Los Angeles v. Miami. I scoured Indeed, craigslist, and Monster for jobs and ended up getting three job offers in Los Angeles despite being all the way in lil Palm Beach. I went back and forth about this in my head endlessly before saying “fuck it” and flying out.

Boy, am I so happy that I did.

I ended up getting the job I wanted the most out of the three. I am an assistant at a branding agency in Downtown LA that specializes in package design and apparel trims. So far, I am loving it. I am learning a lot and I work with a great team. However, the first two weeks were really rough as I had never worked with apparel trims/package design before. I was so stressed that I lost three pounds in a week!

Now, I am all settled in and I’ve even personalized my own desk! My salary is great and I know this is a company I will be working with for a couple of years (if I’m lucky!).

Coming back to LA, I really didn’t know what to expect with my social life. I have most of my friends here but I met a lot of them when I was a crazy eighteen-year-old. Now that I’m older and have (slightly) grown out of my partying ways, I assumed I would have to make new friends. While that’s kind of the case with half of them, I’m still very close with the other half. It’s almost like no time has passed even though it’s been years.

But I will say that it’s kind of funny sometimes. A lot of my friends here are actors, models, social media influencers, etc. so they don’t realize that I can’t live the same lives as they do. When I’m invited to Mykonos or Ibiza and I decline because I can’t take time off, people are absolutely shocked. I usually get the following responses:

“Wait, why not?”

“Yeah, but just take vacation”

“You work?”

Working is a wild concept in LA.

Another wild concept here: DATING.

The one thing that sucks about LA is the dating culture. It’s a goddamn mess.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met some really cool guys and have been having a lot of fun with them BUT it’s not really serious. Dating here is like, “hey, let’s do everything that people do in relationships but not say we are in a relationship”.


Men's maturity here is... how can I say this... a bit slower. My friend, Sydney, said it best: “30-something guys here really think they're 20"


And the dates! So extravagant. It’s not uncommon for a guy you’ve met once to invite you to meet him in another city. (Refer back to the Mykonos/Ibiza thing).

Can’t you just take me to dinner or something normal?

I guess it’s fine for now because I am completely investing myself in work and I’m busy moving into a new apartment in a couple weeks. But still, it would be nice to just have one person to talk to all day and sleep with at night.

I’m still missing Sweden every day. My roommates are Swedish so anytime I hear them talk, it tugs at my heartstrings. Jag saknar Sverige så jävla mycket.

I think I will live there again one day but it would also be very hard to transition back. Stockholm is so insanely expensive and after taxes, I make only half of what I am making now. Also, I don’t know if I could do another dark Swedish winter.

Anyways, I’ve got to get going and wrap up my lunch break. I won’t make any promises to write again or even keep this blog public. Just wanted to say hi and say that everything is good here 😊





I've been here for less than 10 hours and I am so confused by Miami. Kind of in a good way but also... I don't know!

Even though I've grown up in South Florida, I haven't spent
that much time in Miami. I've come here for wild weekends when I was 16-20 but they were fleeting and not so memorable. Mostly due to drinking way too much.

This morning I decided to take the train down for the first time ever. I usually Uber but I wanted to experience something new... and slightly cheaper.


The train itself isn't bad or gross or anything. It's more of just a mindfuck and I felt very uncomfortable the whole time. When do you get off? Why am I on the second floor? Why are the stops so far from civilization?

I decided to ride it all the way down to Miami Airport where I just cut the bullshit and called an Uber. I hope this doesn't sound bratty because I'm not a brat in the slightest! I think it's more of the fact that I'm way too used to city life and I need to snap out of it.

I actually had a meeting today with a really cool company. Until I know further, that's alllll I'm going to say about it. Hopefully, I will know more by next week.

Since I was going to be in town, I decided to make a little trip of it. I got my wisdom teeth taken out on Tuesday and I've been bedridden these past couple days so I was in desperate need of some fun.

Ugh, my writing is probably super out of order right now but that's OK because I am super out of order right now!!

Anyways, had the meeting and it went really well! Therefore, I decided to reward myself with a cold beer at Ciprianis. Within the first 10 minutes, a nice gentleman approached me and started chatting.

I was a bit shocked at first but then relaxed. I had completely forgotten how forward guys are in America. And Miami is just one giant meat market.

We spoke for a bit and he asked me for my number. I hesitated at first but ended up handing it over. Fuck it, right?

After he left, I presumed playing with my phone and endlessly scrolling through memes. THEN, the funniest thing happened.

"Hello, are you Megan?", a sweet voice called out to me, interrupting my Instagram-daze.

I nodded slowly to the man in a suit who was standing next to me.

"Ah! This is from Paolo!", he explained, setting a Bellini down in front of me. "He just called and asked me to deliver a Bellini to the beautiful blonde drinking an Asahi beer!"

I burst out laughing and thanked him endlessly. Paolo is a guy I had a fling with in New York. Really sweet guy with close ties to the Cipriani brand.

So, I sat at Cipriani, drank my Bellini, and stared at the gorgeous view of the water. My friend, Tim, was soon getting off from work and we were planning on having a nice night out in Miami Beach.

As I sat there, I thought about a lot of things. But what I thought about the most was how nice life is here. Everyone is so friendly and the weather is so warm. The taxes are also reaaaalllly low compared to Sweden. Maybe that's why everyone is always in a good mood.

I've got to go now. I promise to write soon!




Megan's Thoughts

Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me!!

Ah! I'm twenty-two-years-old! I'm an old lady. In Swedish words, I am a "gumman".

If I'm being honest, I have been spending the last two months freaking out about turning 22. In the real world, 22 is still incredibly young but for me, it felt like I might as well be 40.

Shit really hit the fan on Friday when I went out for my birthday. I mean, I probably shouldn't have started out the night with two vodka-sodas and a blåbär shot in the first hour but whatever. We started at the Lion Bar which is a funny little place that you can get wine for 35 KR which is INSANE. Then, we headed to Story Bar where I guzzled down a glass of champagne and some elaborate rum drink? I think it was rum. I actually don't know. The rest of the night was spent at Suite and I couldn't really tell you what happened there because my memory is fuzzy. I ended the night at a friends house and woke up hungover as hell.


Saturday was spent with Olivia and Alice at a bar in Södermalm. I was still drunk from the night before and so exhausted that two Marie Stad 50 cl hit me like a ton of bricks. Still fun, tho.

SUNDAY was my favorite day of them all. I went back to Story with @Oliviahageus , @paulawallin , and @Jasminella . We sat in the nearly empty bar and had ourselves a nice Easter drink. I sipped my Kirin beer as I watched Olivia animatedly describe a scenario while Jasmin laughed out loud and Paula giggled. Those three girls are my everything, I swear to God. Min bästa vänners.

As Story was closing, I was texting with a boiiiii and we decided to meet at Sturehof.

Side Note: Dating again after everything is SO WEIRD. Half of me feels nervous/excited and then the other half of me is like, "whatever, I've been a wife before so it's chill". It's really nice to be free but it also feels weird to be alone. Even though we were married for only a year, it felt like much longer. But marriage is also such a game changer. If I knew what I know now, I never would've gotten married. Not because I didn't love him or I regret anything that happened but because it's just not that great to be married. The only difference between dating and being married is that with marriage there is a piece of paper that says you are someone else's property. Marriage is a very outdated concept and completely unnecessary.

Back to what I was saying! Yes, so there is another new boy. I've previously mentioned that I don't want to settle down with another person for a very, very long time so whenever I meet someone new, I don't have any crazy expectations. Right now, it's mostly like I just want to hang out and have nice conversation.

So, I meet this boy and he completely blows me away. It was an instant connection and he made me laugh so hard that my stomach hurt. He's so beautiful and so nice and so un-Swedish.

ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: Let me clarify that: There are two types of Swedish guys.

One of them is so stuck in the traditional Swedish ideals that they are so freaked out by anything outside of the norm. They prefer their women to be like, "yes, sweetie. You can go off and do your own thing and I'll just be waiting here for you to come home and fuck me while I lay completely still and take it. PUSS OCH KRAM!". They are boring guys who do the same boring things all the time.

Then, there is the Swede who is evolved. He is a feminist, world traveler, and likes to have fun. He doesn't mind being silly and he lets you do you. It's not like I've been dating a lot of Swedes but this is what I've seen from observation.

So, the guy and I are sitting outside, drinking öl and smoking cigarettes. We are talking, talking, talking and I decide that I like him. Aaaand, we kiss! We kiss a lot. It feels so deliciously juvenile to be kissing openly and in front of so many people but it was nice. It was so so nice.

The next thing I know, we are inside by the DJ with his friends, loudly belting out "Don't Look Back in Anger" by Oasis and I'm having so much fun. Sturehof began turning the lights on and ushering us out of the door for closing time and I said goodbye to my friends and hopped into a cab with the boy. All I can say is that it was a really nice night.

Now, as I'm sitting in Olivia's apartment and replaying all of my memories from the weekend in my head, I've decided that I'm excited about being twenty-two. So many times during the weekend I thought about the fact that I would no longer be twenty-one and how I felt about it. And suddenly, I wasn't so scared or sad anymore. This is my year to really figure out what I want. I've decided that I want to stay single and meet a ton of boys and have a lot of fun. I've decided that I want to try to find my niche in media/film/fashion. I've decided that I'm not going to be so hard on myself and stop rushing everything.

I've decided to just be happy.



I'm back!

Did you miss me? I sure as hell missed you guys.

A lot has changed since I last wrote. Like, A LOT.

Career wise, I had the opportunity to work at an amazing film and animation company. I learned so much and had such a great time working with the team. In doing so, I realized that I'm not 100% sure about working with film as my base. Don't get me wrong, I loved it but there are still some other things I want to explore more. Maybe a bit more with fashion and media. I just need to try some more things before I settle into one thing.

If you follow my Instagram, then you may know that I went back to Florida for a couple of weeks. I hadn't been home in a full year so it was a very emotional experience. Perhaps the most surreal/emotional encounter was seeing my sister 6 months pregnant! Baby Adeline is healthy and due in June! We are so excited.


I'm not going to go into too much detail but it's not happening anymore. Yep, while I went to Florida to clear my head, my husband moved in with another girl and began dating her.

Was I shocked? Not really considering the way he was acting in the last few months of our relationship. Hence, my hasty exit to Florida. But, I was definitely heartbroken. What makes it worse is that I had heard it from someone else. At least ask for a divorce first?

That was 2-3 weeks ago so I've had my grieving period. Now, I've met some great new guys that I have a lot of fun with. There is one in particular that gives me butterflies in my stomach lol. For the time being, I don't want to really tie myself down to anyone yet. I rushed into a marriage after B and I had our tumultuous breakup and look at how well that turned out.

Will I stay in Sweden? That is unknown. Now that I'm free, I feel like there is so much I still need to see and do while I'm young. For example, I really want to move to Thailand for a couple months (at some point). Maybe even give Italy a try. Dip my feet in Costa Rica? I really don't know yet.

For the last six months, my life was in black-and-white. Now, I can finally see in color again.

How exciting it is to be 22 and able to do absolutely anything!




Hey y'all.

This week has flown by. Sadly, I will have to leave the countryside soon and return to Stockholm.

I really love Båstad. Being here has made me think a lot about the future. I can easily picture myself walking along Köpmansgatan with a child on my hip and Philip walking Skorpan next to me.

It's weird to think of me being pregnant one day in the near future but it's also very natural. Philip and I talk about it all the time. We've decided to wait a couple more years so we can travel and be more stable in our careers when our little peanut comes out. You know what's cute, though? We've decided on very Swedish names for our future bebis. "Elin Elizabeth Kennedy-Widmark" for a little girl and "Philip Erik Kennedy-Widmark" for the boy. Although, I really like the names "Axel" and "Sven".

I feel so young and so old at the same time. I had a little panic moment the other day when I realized that I am turning 22 in three months. Philip laughed out loud when I told him. He reassured me that I'm still very young and I won't be "old" for a long time.

I don't mind being my age or being married so young. It's kind of the same as just having a boyfriend you live with and I've already done that a couple times. Also, at least he can't just randomly break up with me lol. He would have to divorce my cute ass and trust me, I would not make that easy. SHOUTOUT TO GROWING UP WITH LAWYERS.

We saw Assassin's Creed last night and I feel very indifferent.

Second row, 3D. By the way, how weird is it that Swede's reserve seats in movie theaters? Like, it's very important.

I think the main problem with the film was that they were way too focused on the graphics and effects. Which were DOPE! But still, I didn't understand any of the details!

I think you really need to have a thorough knowledge of the game or have played it. Like, was he alive in Madrid? Was that an alternate universe? If and when they found the apple, would it only control people who are likely to grow up to be assassins or would it control everyone? Why is Sofia's dad such a dick?

I put a temporary pink tint in my hair a couple days ago and I fell in love. It's so faint and rosy and cute.

I'm thinking about doing a more strawberry blonde look. What do you guys think?



Life in Stockholm

I never want to go back to Stockholm.

It's been almost 8 days since we came here and I've completely immersed myself in the countryside life. I spend my days wearing grandfather sweaters and baking cookies. It's heaven.

I never thought I would like this kind of life. For such a long time, I have been running from Florida so I wouldn't end up like my parents living in boring old Jupiter and West Palm Beach. Turns out, I wasn't really running from those cities because they were "boring". I was running from the isolation and loneliness that consumed me there.

I never felt normal there. Even when I went to Cardinal Newman and made friends with the social kids and went to parties and football games. It never really sat well with me. I needed more. So, I left and barely came back for a couple years.

Before I met Philip and was still together with B, I started to feel that itch again. I guess my older readers could've guessed it with how frequently I was going to New York. I was looking for any out of Florida that I could find. However, after we broke up, I stopped looking for my out. I decided that I would find myself a little more.

Then, I met Philip. He was everything I had been looking for: adventurous, crazy, funny, smart, good-looking. After our first date (and first time having sex), I chalked it up to a one night stand as he was Swedish and lived in Stockholm. Two weeks into being together, he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him and move to Stockholm.

It's so weird how life works. Now, after almost a year together, I am sitting in his parents' countryside house and tapping away on my computer. Skorpan, our dog, is sitting at my feet while Philip is drinking coffee and scrolling away on his computer.

My adventure turned out to be love. As cheesy as that sounds. I don't need a bustling city or a crazy life to be happy. I'm perfectly content right now.





Sex & Love

Helloooo 2017!

I want to start this post out by apologizing for my lack of writing in December. It was such a weird month and I didn't feel like I was getting anything out of blogging. But I'm back!

I'm writing this on the 22nd of December because this post has to do with a major life event I had a couple days ago: I got on birth control!

The thought of birth control always freaked me out. I had heard so many horror stories about gaining a lot of weight, messing with your hormones, infections, etc. However, after a pregnancy scare, P and I had a long talk and decided that we wanted to wait a few more years before we have children.

Thus, on December 20th, P and I headed to Mamma Mia Gynekolog. I had been referred there by a friend and couldn't get over the name.

Mamma mia, it'sa vagina doctor!

We sat in the in the waiting room and I fiddled with my thumbs. I wasn't really sure what to expect. Was she going to examine my vagina and say, "Aha! This is the perfect birth control for you and your vagina!" and just do the thing right then and there? Or was it a whole surgery? I began sweating.

After about 20 minutes, our number was called and we entered the doctor's office. I had asked P to join me so there was absolutely no miscommunication between me and the gyno.

We exchanged hello's and other pleasantries for a minute or so before getting down to business: I informed her that I wanted to get on birth control ASAP and this would be my first time going on it. Immediately, she pulled out what looked like a plastic rod with twine wrapped around it. This was the "spiral" I had heard so much about.

She explained that this was one of the most popular options for birth control. The IUD ( AKA the proper name for Mcdonald's toy she held in front of me) would be placed inside of my uterus and could protect me from pregnancy for 3-5 years. I took it in my hand and pinched it. So weird.

"What about the thing that can go into my arm?", I asked, still toying with the spiral. My step mom had advised me against using the spiral due to how easy it is to get an infection.

The gynecologist began explaining the BC Implant, also known as Nexplanon. Similar to the IUD, the Implant is a plastic rod that releases hormones into my body to protect me from pregnancy for 3 years.

That had seemed like the simplest option for me but as I sat there staring at these devices, I panicked. I wasn't ready for that. I wanted to just start off simple. I mean, the average girl who goes on birth control is sixteen or so. It seemed more rational to start off with pills.

"What about the pills?"

With that, I had two options: Cerazette (mini-pills) or another one that I forgot the name of. The mini pills were to be taken every day at the exact same time while the other pills were to be taken in a "stop-and-go" kind of method. Both pills had side effects such as weight gain, change in temperament, nausea, just usual shit girls have to go through once a month anyways. In the end, I chose the Cerazette because it seemed to be the simplest and best "starter BC".

JANUARY 1 UPDATE: So far, the only side effects I have are larger breasts and a bloated face. I have started my normal period with the same bleeding, not too much and not too little. I'm not too bothered by my breasts getting bigger but I don't want them to get any bigger than they are now. But it would be amazing if my face decided to deflate a little ;)