Wednesday, August 25
Jag älskar dig från botten av mitt pennskrin.
It all happened during a time when everything felt like it was possible. All nights were bright and heavy with stars, all days spent aimlessly wandering through the streets. The fall of 2008 was exhilarating and full of adventures, and when Kristofer came along, to me he was perfect.
I had had a crush on Kristofer for a while, a secret, giggly school girl crush. But also, an intellectual wow-he-thinks-exactly-like-I-do kind of crush. He wrote one of Sweden’s most popular blogs and I thought he was the most amazing person.
At the same time I was very shy, so instead of sending him an email, I added him on Facebook. A couple of weeks later, when we were the only people online, I took my chance and opened up the chat window and wrote a message for him. For a second I pondered how mortified I would feel if he’d ignore me, or worse; if he turned out to be nothing like I thought. Then he answered, and we started talking. We talked and talked, writing with such speed that neither of us noticed the hours passing by. We wrote about our favorite music, books and dreams and he told me that he had read my blog before and that he liked it.
The next day he had sent me an email, starting a correspondence between us that would involve three or four long letters every day for almost two weeks. When I finally worked up the courage to ask him out for an actual date, I was kind of in love with him already.
We met on one of the coldest autumn evenings of 2008, and walked over to my favorite bar. Kristofer wore a black coat and looked like something out of an Anton Corbijn photo. I thought he was so very handsome. Later that night we walked to my apartment to mix hideous rum drinks and play our favorite music for each other on my laptop. That’s when he finally leant in to kiss me, and everything just became so right.