from then until now (winter/spring)

eight months ago I promised I would write soon. and I did. and this is it (eight months later):
1. I got interrupted last time I wrote. as usual. I can’t remember how, or why, or when, but at least that’s what happened.
there’s been a couple of things that have happened since last time I wrote, just three days ago. most of them have to do with aleksander. aleksander and his golden hair and crystal blue eyes. aleksander with his crooked teeth and wrinkles around his eyes. aleksander, soft-spoken, soft-lipped, holding my hand in the january air, freezing. aleksander and his familiar body around mine; 

lingering warmth.

two years later. 
here we are again, aleksander. 


taking the bus to dalby feels strangely familiar, except it doesn’t at all. I’ve never taken it from centralen before, but as I sit down and lund flashes by my window, I remember the many times I’ve stood at professorsgatan waiting for it to arrive. 160, sjöbo, via dalby. we hug as the driver closes the door behind her, her face lighting up in a smile as she sees us kiss. and then the she drives away. “we can walk this way”, aleksander says. I can’t remember the last time I was at dalby busstation. it’s been a while, and so I can’t remember the way.  

as we walk, it quickly comes back to me though. as does everything else about aleksander. his soft voice and the way he walks. the way he closes his eyes in a cheeky sigh when I ruffle his blonde hair. the way my hand feels in his, ten fingers intertwined. his breath against my skin; 
warmth, lingering.

our legs tangled together and nibbling his earlobe. hushed moaning as he enters me, soft moaning as his sweaty body yields itself to me, exhausted breaths and our bodies against each other;
warm lingers.


that night, aleksander sleeps besides me. I've missed sleeping with someone; having slept only with people i consider one night stands for the past few months. sleeping with aleksander is different. it’s cuddles and low volume talking, it’s “I’m really happy you’re here” and ten fingers intertwined. it isn’t josh falling asleep instantly nor alex turning his back to me. it’s hugging me closer, tighter, as if afraid that I’ll disappear. because we both know that I will, soon. I forgot that he snores.


2. winter break was long, bleak, and dull, but towards the end of it I didn't want to leave. I have a hard time explaining everything that I am feeling; I can't put emotions into words (or any other expression). just lump in my throat and glossy eyes but my heart is warm. I like this boy so much. he makes me feel whole. /

when I see freja she asks me: "how does it feel to be going home so soon?" ( H o m e ) and I think: home is him.
on the day before The Day I Had To Say Goodbye, I have lunch with mikael. we don't speak much; somehow it feels like we don't have to. as we walk the streets of january-lund (freezing), I see leo in the distance. leo, soft-spoken and intelligent, my head on his shoulder and him guiding me through his art history class, animal crossing and champagne. leo, who was one of my closest friends two years ago. haven't spoken to him since. my heart races. he opens the door to love coffee and instead of shouting his name I follow. almost as if he's seen me through the corner of his eye he greets me with a smile, hug. "I just saw you walking down the road so I thought I'd say hi", I explain. "I haven't seen you in forever." my hands feel shaky. I stumble across my own words. he looks so cool, so composed, so grown-up. it makes me nervous. how did he become over the past two years and how did I not?

3. I take the bus to dalby. aleksander. the boy that feels like Home. he gets on at univ-sjukhuset, all navy blue again. he smiles his aleksander smile when he sees me. "maths didn't go too well today," he says. his hands are freezing. I kiss him in return. I like this boy a lot. 
aleksander crawls into bed with me that night. I love feeling his bare skin against mine, his heartbeat drumming into my ear. aleksander. boy who feels like Home. I cry in his arms. quietly at first but then I can't help myself anymore. tears stream down my face. he hugs me closer, almost like he's scared I'll break and vanish into nothing (I am, too). he kisses my eyelids. "it'll be OK, anneli", he tells me.                           and I trust him. 
4. TAKE #2
birthmark stained cheek. 27 (club 27)
argent apatile eyes (effulgent emerald eyes)
coruscating chrysocolla,
heart-ache, dolor   
parce-que c'etait lui, parce-que c'etait moi
5. bright boston skyline. incadecent city. everything's big. luminescent. in in the uber back from logan, bastienne says: "man, I really don't want to go back". to herself or to me, I don't know, but I nod in return. "me neither". 18 min of silence and then pushing my heavy-tag-luggage up the path to the quad, cramming myself through the small green doors of shafer. shaf shaf shaf 115 room furthest down the hallway back-door-alarm always rings too long. my headphones tangle in my keychain when I open the door. bright yellow lights. tatum's home, but not here. maybe in the bathroom? don't really want to see her; don't really want to see anyone. (heavy jet-lagged mind.)
I take a long shower. rinse off airplanes and traveling. I pull aleksander's sweater over my head. big. warm. comfortable. smells like him. smells like Home. I never want to take it off. hate wearing sweaters in bed yet there I am huddled hefty heavy drowning (in warmth). he answers my call at 2:10am it's only 8 in MA but my head is still stuck in swedish time. heavy eyelids. it feels good talking to him. telling him I love him miss him (so). Beautiful Boy. I want him to come here badly. it's important to have things to look forward to. like anchors. promises. takes stress away. anguish. focusing on the NOW seems so hard when all I want is for time to pass fast faster Beautiful Boy I miss you
6. lofty and fiery thoughts/gleamy brow, kingly eyes
blindly and insatiably as into a bottomless pit
childlike joy/childlike folly
an angry joy
7. being here feels more exciting again, which is good. I really want to enjoy this semester. have so much I want to do and accomplish during this period of time.
I wonder how people do long-distance. only been here for a couple of days now but am scared the lives we lead are too different. it's hard keeping up. how much contact is appropriate to have? somehow feel saddened by short replies and things left on seen, but this is the way things are going to be for the coming four months and I shouldn't try to change that. things take time. maybe it's better to back off. live seperately and experience life together this summer. I have no idea. (the soundless war of patience reminding me of things forgotten)


1. yesterday I took the bus to cambridge and spent an afternoon there. walked from central to newbury twice and couldn't stop smiling. the charles was so pretty, waves splashing towards the melting ice, blue skies above. frisk air sunshine joy. so at peace. at noon I sit on the stairs to 77 mass and tell my parents about aleksander. I tell him we're dating now and that he's coming here in two months. my dad utters something like "I knew it". I'm happy. I hang up and smile all the way to newbury. at barrington I have a cappucino and do my art history reading: moxey, visual time. one table away, an old man is discussing an exhibition he is creating. I have thelonious monk in my ears but I can't help but catch on to some of the things he says. content doesn't even seem to matter – his pure excitement/the excitement of his gestures are enough to intrigue and inspire. my heart feels like its overflowing.
3. I can't believe it's thursday already. feels like I was sitting at barrington listening to conversations about art just yesterday. time is such a strange mechanism and works in a way I cannot comprehend. in many ways, time in itself feels very arbitrary.
aleksander comes here in 40 days which I'm very excited for. we haven't talked much for the past couple of days but that feels pretty OK, too. like we're both recognizing we have a lot to do on our own ends of the relationship. I don't know. it feels good. ok, at least. I don't miss him as much as I long for him. does that make sense?
4. how do you deal with feeling ugly all the time? I look myself in the mirror and I despise myself. I wish my stomach was flatter, muscles more refined, skin clearer. it's like that feeling I always get right before getting my period; of feeling gross and unattractive. except it's not my period, and it's been like this for quite a while now. been going to the gym a lot lately. Idk. feel very unhappy with my body at the moment. 

5. I went to hawes' office hours yesterday. he gave me not so many answers but said:
1. "as an artist, you just have to keep exploring. you're doing that every day. in that way, every day is an experiment and you just have to see what happens."
2. "I have a feeling that you're just the sort of person that will find her thing and just... figure it out; even if the road there goes in zig-zag."
tokio is here too. yesterday we were out in cambridge; him, me, josie, and melory. we went to pkt(?) but they played really shitty music so we took an uber to some other frat (forgot the name) where they played latin music and served straight vodka shot. low-key but fun. tokio and I smoked a bowl in the window – reminded me of smoking with carlie. her birthday was yesterday. I miss her quite a lot. 
6. this past week has gone by so fast, but I'm not sure if it's been in a good way. I've talked increasingly less to aleksander – there is something about him, about us, that really has the ability to piss me off. I don't know what and I don't know why. we had a really gross phone call yesterday in which I called even though I had no desire to speak to him – or anyone at all – and it was awful and just worsened my already bad mood and I think in many ways it's hard realizing that he doesn't know what I'm feeling or doing or thinking if I don't tell him explicitly because HE'S NOT HERE.




2. May Kasahara - Aomame (wig factory and thinning hair)

Tengo’s dad, Manchuria. Is Tengo the little boy in Wind-Up? p. 114

Aomame ”opening up” p. 170

End of the world p. 247

The café in Shinjuku- after dark?


3. a poem is a painting without form and a painting is a poem with form.


4. FALL 2018

  1. 11.001: Intro to Urban Design and Development (MIT)
  2. CS 230 
  3. ARTH 200 (Architecture and Urban form) 


  • ARTH 100
  • ARTS 113
  • ARTS 105
  • ARTH 200/231/228/216
  • Two 200-levels
  • Two 300-levels, one at W.
  • Two additional:
    • 4.021* Introduction to Architecture and Environmental Design
    • 11.001: Intro to Urban Design and Development 


  • CS 111
  • CS 230
  • CS 231/235/240
  • One above 100: 220?
  • One 300

 11.001: Intro to Urban Design and Development
11.001: Intro to Urban Design and Development
11.002: Making Policy
11.XXX (11.158 Behavior and Policy: Connections in Transportation)
11.XXX (11.016[J] The Once and Future City)
11.XXX (11.123 Big Plans and Mega-Urban Landscapes)
11.XXX(11.140 Urbanization and Development)
Lab req: 11.188 Urban Planning and Social Science Laboratory

= 7 classes total. 

ARTH minor @ Wellesley:

  • ARTH 100
  • Americas: 231
  • Africa/Middle East/Europe: 224
  • Asia - 238?
  • Period before 1800 in East:  
  • Period after 1800: 200? 226? 335?


1. hard to breathe, don’t really know what to say, what to write, what to do. i feel so empty.

aleksander just left after having spent two weeks here on the east coast, with me. it seemed like the two shortest weeks ever, but i am so happy that they happened. i love this boy so incredibly much. thinking about him brings tears to my eyes, seeing double for the fiftieth time today. he left four hours ago but i miss him so much already. aleksander,

i feel like i need to write but i don’t know how to explain or how to put down in words anything i’m feeling or anything i’m thinking right now. my mind is blank. my head is heavy. most of all i just don’t want to do anything at all. i don’t want to be anywhere else than in his arms. 


ok let me try to explain, from the beginning. from when It All Began.

ariman, january 7th. seeing him feels strangely familiar. like we’ve done this a million times before. like we’ve known each other forever. like nothing’s ever changed. like nothing ever did. him and me and I can’t stop smiling. he makes me happy, and talking to him feels good. when we wait for the bus he holds my hands. I want to kiss him so bad. my eyes meet his, smile, look away. my bus comes. he hugs me. we decide to meet again. I kiss him. to mikael i write “I’m so in love with jawo. again.”


and then follows the Same As Before. where I smuggle him into my room and we wake up and have breakfast together, where low-voiced talking and soft-lipped kissing and hidden hickeys become a Thing again. where his hand fits perfectly in mine, where my feelings tie themselves in a knot in my chest. I feel so strongly and I haven’t felt so strongly in so long. the night before I leave I tell him I love him. I’ve been trying to gather the strength and courage to say that for the entire night. it’s 3am in the morning. he says: “wow… that’s a big thing to say”. I say: “yeah, but… that’s how it feels. here.” and I point to my chest, like he always points to his when he says he is feeling something, strongly

and he says:

“I’ve been wanting to call you ‘älskling’ for the entire evening. I love you too, I think.”

I leave for the US.


we keep in contact, aleksander and I. of course we do. I still love him. I meant it when I said that. we talk about the possibility of him maybe coming here for spring break. I ask him if he’s serious when he talks about it. he says yes. I say ok. I say I’m willing to commit if he actually comes here and if he actually is serious about this, about us. he says yes. he says “I see a future with you”, and I feel the same way. I tell my parents on my first free Wednesday in Cambridge. I walk across the charles three times and then I sit down outside Mass 77 and call them. “I just wanted to let you know that I have a boyfriend now, Aleksander”. I tell them he’s coming here for break. I’m happy. 


a lot happens during the days between That and This. we are apart for two months but they’re two heinous months. I am happy at first. I love aleksander and I love talking to him, video calling two or three times a week. I come back from parties when he’s just woken up and I call him and tell him I love him. he makes me happy. 

and then he doesn’t,

we don’t talk properly for two weeks. I am frustrated angry I don’t know why, there is something nagging me I don’t know what. when he comes here I am more unsure about our relationship than I’ve ever been before. he feels too immature, this feels too naive and dreamlike. like we’re Living a Lie.

of course it feels good to see him coming out of the airport. I meet him halfway between terminals. of course it feels good to once again be in his arms, to feel his embrace. but something feels off I don’t know what

and when we wake up the next day and walk around the lake something feels off, 
I don’t know what. 

we have a long conversation at Tatte. my matcha latté is lumpy and tastes like shit. I ask him if he’s happy he’s here. why he won’t talk to me. I explain why I feel so off, so defensive, so arrogant. It feels like I’m pushing him away even though I don’t want to. “stop being so insecure,” I tell him, “there’s a reason I love you.” we join our bodies that night, 

and when I wake up in the morning everything feels a little better.


we spend a couple of days in boston, aleksander and I. we have breakfast in pom and lunch at lulu and he learns the names of the buildings in the quad. he meets melory and josie and we go out for korean food in allston. we look at art at the MFA. I take him climbing in framingham. it feels good being with him, waking up by his side, leaning my head on his shoulder on the peter. it feels so natural. like this is the way things are Supposed to Be. Like this is It. 

(I wish it was.)


we get on the bus to NYC on march 24th. he lets me lie on his chest for the entire bus ride there. when an old lady passes us she says: “a boy pillow – now THAT’s what I need!” we giggle. my boy pillow, aleksander.

I'm nervous about bringing him home to henry and siwen. am afraid he’s going to be awkward, I don’t know. sometimes I forget why I’m so in love with him, I guess. he reminds me quickly every time I forget

seeing him interact with my brother and his son makes my heart warm. I feel so comfortable with  him and so confident in him. it feels so natural to have him by my side. I love him


I want to scream it so that everyone can hear me. so that everyone will know that this boy is mine. that I am his. that I love him, that he loves me, that we love us. 


we spend eight days in new york. they pass by faster than ever. we go to museums, eat good food, walk around the city; central park, soho, high line. in the evenings we watch black mirror and make love. being with him makes me feel so confident in us. it feels better than anything else has ever done. it feels so Right. like this is the way things are supposed to be. like we’re supposed to be. together. 

I want to move in with him, I want to have a future with him. seeing him care for eddie makes me want him as the father of my children. it sounds dumb to say when you’re 20 and it sounds dumb to say when you live 3000 miles apart, but this boy makes me so incredibly happy and being with him feels so right. i feel it now more than ever and I don’t ever want to forget this feeling. how good it feels to be with him, how it feels like he reads my mind, how he knows everything I want, how weak he makes me, how happy I am that he’s mine that I’m his that we’re ours      o u r s .



it’s getting harder to breathe. my lungs won’t fill up with air, or so it feels. breathe in breathe in breathe in breathe in my breaths out are fast short inconsistent. don’t want to breathe. don’t
want to be here. 

everything’s starting to itch. my own body doesn’t feel like mine. i want to crawl out of my own skin. it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me anymore. want to scratch it off. want to sink through the floor. don’t want to be here.

i roll up in a ball
my breathing inconsistent
my nails digging into my skin, won’t let go 

his voice

he holds me tight

“breathe with me. ok? are you ready? in, out, in out.” calming

“i’m ok”, i say, over and over again. “i’m ok. i’m ok. i’m ok.” i look at him. “i’m ok. right? i’m ok.”

he says nothing but holds me tight.

i sit up take a sip of water and then i launch at him, my body yearns for him i push him down in the mattress the palm of my hand around his neck grasping the back of his head i want him i want him desperately i want him to kiss me to hold me to



like he really wants me.

and so I shove my tongue in his throat I lick his neck I bite his shoulders I don’t know what I’m doing or what is going on but I want him desperately inside me I want him to hold me tight and never to let go ,


“I’m really confused” he says. “i’m ok”, I reply. “i’m ok.”

I’m not. 

next thing I know I’m curled up in a ball again, sobbing my eyes out. everything hurts and everything is confusing I don’t know what I want or what I’m feeling I’m not thinking straight 

“this hasn’t happened in a while”, I tell him. i tell myself,

he says:
“it’s ok. it seems like you’re having a pretty bad anxiety attack and it’s ok. I know how it feels like, I’ve been there. I love you, anneli.”

he holds me tight

“I’m sorry” i tell him over and over again. “i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry.” i can’t stop crying ,

he says: “you have nothing to be sorry for. stop. i’m here. i love you.” 

we fall asleep.

in the morning i say

“thanks for taking care of me yesterday. i’m sorry”

he says:
“you have nothing to be sorry for. stop it. i love you.”


he has 28 birthmarks on the right side of his cheek. i know because i’ve counted them, 


i’m ok.


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