9.7.2019

Tuesday

I was feeling so well and now everything is falling apart once again.

When I started this diary, I did it because I felt like everything was going so well. After so long my days felt fine almost like normal. Never wanted to write every post about hurting and hurting again, not getting out of bed for days.

I hope I could tell you happy tales. Speak about the stupid things I have done. Tell you about the wedding I attended this weekend or share the small talks I have with my sister after she returns from work. There are so many things to do, to achieve, to try. Why can’t I just go on and write about those?

Why once again I’m bedbound on the edge of dropping down?

My school starts in a month. What if my health doesn’t get better before that? I got time for a brain scan and it scares me to the end. On the other hand, I hope they find something. At least they could do something. But who really wants to be sick?

Maybe this endless tiredness and my body not working is just because of the long weekend full of stress. Or so I hope. I have already made plans for the weekend – will go to see the new Spider-Man with my cousin in Helsinki. On Monday we do a family trip somewhere. Then we go to see pandas with my family and cousins. After that, it’s my grandpa’s book release party. And then only a few weeks before school starts.

Oh god, let me be well to do all that like a normal human being. Is that too much to ask?

2.7.2019

Tuesday

It’s 9 PM and I’m drinking some flowery tea while writing this. I made a promise to write 2 hours every day in July (1 hour in English and 1 hour in Finnish). Did that yesterday like my overly emotional diary entry gave away. However, today there hasn’t been enough time.

We went shopping with my mum and sister – with them time flies. Afterward, my sister made a salad while I cooked halloumi and my grandpa made salmon. Oh, how I have missed these simple days when we just spend time as a family. I put on Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse and my sister stayed to watch it too.

The movie wasn’t as great as when I saw it in movies but still, the style is so aesthetically pleasing that it’s hard to explain. The character of Gwen is close to the perfect female hero in my opinion. Chic, badass, snarky, and still vulnerable. Of course, being beautiful is just plus. Can I call a cartoon character beautiful?

I’m a devoted reader but comic books have always been my guilty pleasure. As a teen, I read every Spider-Man comic book from our library. He’s one of those characters I identify as. Mostly because of the “Parker luck”.

If comics aren’t your cup of tea, don’t come at me. I’m ready to fight you about the matter of if comics are important part of literature. Some stories can only be told in visual form.

From comics we can easily transform to today’s second subject. I started a project!

A few weeks ago I bought a stylus pen for iPad online. It came yesterday. Basically, a stylus is just like a normal pen and you can draw or write with it to touch screen. Why I need this pen you may ask? Or maybe not because I haven’t yet shared with you my drawing skills. I can’t even draw a convincing stick figure. So where do I need drawing pen?

  1. I want to plan novels, make idea maps, etc. using my iPad. I hate doing that on paper but it feels stupid just writing things down as a list.
  2. I want to learn how to draw.

I already told you the truth – I can’t draw to save myself. In our family, my sister has always been the artistic one who can draw, paint, sculpt and you name it. I’m the writer of the family. My parents put me to art school for years as a kid and teen but it never took me anywhere.

I want to draw. And I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s because my personality is build around being stubborn and always proving everyone else wrong.

I was the last one to learn reading and writing in my class, now I work as a writer. My English teacher kept laughing at my language skills, now I work as part-time translator. No one believed that this shy book nerd would have the balls to travel all around the world, guess what I did!

It has taken time and effort but my family and friends believe in my writing skills. They know I can do this. My parents even drive me towards studying creative writing instead of starting a business around my freelancing. Everyone roots for me but it doesn’t sit well with my personality. Surprise. Maybe my soul wants to surprise everyone, do something no one would expect. And the best way to make that happen is to do something I’m known to be bad at.

Is that good reason to start drawing?

There’s a second reason – my stories are often visual. Kind of crazy because my mind isn’t, I don’t see thoughts as normal people do. I can’t visualize. But when I plot stories it goes something like this: “You can see his foot first running on a dark alley. No one behind him but the agony in his eyes tell everything. And then there are second feet next to his, running. Girl shouting that they have to find way away. The boy looks at him not knowing what to do.”

Comic book – I love them. If I could draw, it would be a perfect outlet for my creativity. And that’s my second reason. Learning to draw is a change for me to tell stories even more effectively. Can I achieve what I want? Who knows…

There’s no person more stubborn than me and even if it takes years, I will fight for my dreams.

1.7.2019

Monday

Some days are impossible like yesterday. My mind is a blank paper – thoughts hidden in heavy mist. Other days feel almost normal. Today. I can live for the first time in three years. My mind is sharp and body not in pain. And I see it in the smallest things.

Today I wrote for two hours. I wrote for two hours in who knows how long time. It has been years. I put on a timer and wrote, wrote, wrote. And then the timer went off, my whole body collapsed, I couldn’t stop crying.

I couldn’t stop crying.

World doesn’t have greater agony than not being able to do what you love the most. Even worse if the reason is your own body. I have always loved writing and then out of nowhere I couldn’t anymore. My attention span would last for 15 minutes most on the good days and those good days were rare. And if my attention didn’t get the best of me, my hands did. I would write for a few minutes only to lose all the strength from my fingers. In case I decided to be stubborn that didn’t matter too much. Not at first. After every word my hands would start shaking and shaking and shaking more.

There were a million stories I wanted to tell. Writing had always been my escape from the darkest moments of my life. But when I needed it the most I couldn’t write.

Today I wrote for two hours and then I cried.

I laid on my floor open laptop marking a few thousand words written. My heart was beating too fast and body shaking from the shock.

My tears weren’t happy nor sad. I didn’t cry for the pure happiness of finally doing what I love nor mourning for the lost years of my youth. My tears weren’t for the life I can finally have – studying writing and maybe making my own book after that. Nor were my tears for the life I may have had if this had never started – being young digital nomad traveling all around the world while writing my book as side project.

I was crying of pure surprise.

I started crying because I hadn’t even noticed the time flying by. Two hours had just vanished to thin air leaving behind words I thought had sounded quite good. But more than anything my tears came because I had just used two hours writing and my body felt okay.

After two hours, I didn’t feel pain, my limbs weren’t sore and most of all I felt normal. I felt like any 24 years old writer after a few hours writing session.

Only a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have believed for this to be possible ever again. My illness had driven over my hope with a truck. I had made myself believe that not writing the novel I had always dreamed of would be okay. I was satisfied with poems and short stories. And that’s why I cried.

Because maybe I can have a real life and try to achieve my dreams like everyone else.

29.6.2019

Saturday

I feel good. Or good for my standards. Not normal yet but good. My health is jumping up and down like crazy right now. Some moments I can’t even stand up while others I feel like conquering the whole world. Better this than living every day in the endless mist of not being able to do anything.

People keep telling me to rest on good days because I’m not yet better. Just going there. And so I just rested, watched some Netflix documentaries and wrote a little bit. Nothing interesting to tell the truth. A first few episodes of this one drama where the protagonist falls for his best friend who would never like him back. I may have cried. Reminded me of my first love.

You have to decide will you keep a friend and be in pain or lose a friend and still be in pain but maybe not so long. Unwanted love. It’s the saddest love on earth. When you love someone you don’t want to. You know they will hurt you million times more even without knowing it.

My heart hurts from the memories of what once was.

At this point I had to go out. The four walls were closing in. Bought Kinder Maxi bars from the store. Saw a girl waving a big flag in pride colors and her friend a little shyer covered in the colors asexuals. If I was braver maybe I would have said hi. Maybe even go to the pride parade. But just maybe things like that aren’t made for socially anxious people to go alone.

So, I spend hour browsing old books in a close-by flea market. Didn’t want to go home. I left only after they shut down the lights.

Sent some messages back and ford with L. She always knows how to make happy even if I feel like we are getting too far apart. Still, I can only be happy – she has found love. I couldn’t share with her that I had been crying for half a day so far.

28.6.2019

Friday

Didn’t leave home today, hiding from the world. Watching Project Runway, trying to write. Laying on the floor in a small nest made of pillows and blankets. Some days are like this. Eating fruit salad and a whole bar of chocolate but not anything else. Three cups of tea. Rooibos and vanilla – in the shop they told me it would make insomnia only a dream of the past. Note to myself, never trust people selling tea. Can’t sleep at night nor at day.

Today was a bad day and there’s all I have to say.

27.6.2019

Thursday

Happiness is spending half of the night shopping second hand books from internet.

My friends and family say I have a problem, maybe so. Last night I ordered 13 books online. This week I have bought 20 new books but I’m quite proud because the total for them has been under 100€. Finding cheap books is my specialty.

And I never buy books I don’t need. All the books I buy are either important, something I can’t get from the library or call for me. My books for last night were mainly about Virginia Woolf. Collection of her essays and letters to go with the diaries I have. Do you ever feel like something is meant to be? Like there something you just have to do? I’m feeling like I have to read everything Virginia Woolf has written about her own life.

The morning after my shopping spree felt deadly. Couldn’t stand up before 4pm. Then went to shower but the floor flooded. Ate old chicken not even warming it up. That kind of day.

But my travel card ends tomorrow and I got email from bookstore to use my bonus credits for them before Sunday. Didn’t even know I had bonuses unused. In fact, it probably made my whole day when the clerk in the shop told me that I had 10€ to use. Got poetry book and book of a woman who travels around Europe to research secret lover of Finnish artist from the last century.

Lately people who travel following trails of historic people have woken my interest. Maybe I want to be one of them? Who knows… I’m still at that stage of my life where I’m not sure what to do. Feels so clear that writing is my thing but I’m interested in everything. Fiction, non-fiction, plays, everything. Everything. I want to write everything.

Today I got new inspiration for a story that I started to write. Group of university friends from different majors coming together. However, one of them falls for another. Unrequited love. “Laughing, joking around and always being there for each other. A perfect tale of friendship. Until one of them falls and feelings get hurt.” I don’t yet know how this story would end.

Do they end together or do they find love somewhere else? But happiness, there has to be happiness in the end.

On my trip to the bookstore I ended up to one of those odd shops almost like a pharmacy but not quite. Asked help to buy tea that helps you fall asleep. Somehow they also sold me 30€ night cream. My stupid anxious self couldn’t say now. This is why I can’t go anywhere…

Peace out!

26.6.2019

Wednesday

Almost put a sweater on today. Regretted it later when it was freezing outside and would have needed that funny text decorating the shirt. Or maybe it wasn’t even cold but we are used to too good. This summer has been too hot and now even the normal temperatures feel deadly cold. I didn’t return home even if that was in my mind.

I waited forever for my tram – first time driving above the ground on this small holiday. For some reason, metro is always my first choice. I fit in best underground.

My only plan for the day was to visit the outdoor flea market but that ended up being a total flop. The windy dark day had driven every vendor away. Talked sometime with an older woman about harlequin novels. Almost bought some but my bags are already full – don’t even know where to put those 5 Virginia Woolf books I bought a few days ago.

Like a true Finn, I didn’t let the cold summer day bother me and lined up to buy ice-cream. Oreo & coconut-melon. Next to me two men ate ice cream talking about the coming Pride parade. “I have never been, not really my thing.” His friend looked so uncomfortable, scared. Old couple in front of us shared toffee ice-cream like teenagers in love.

I wanted to write but ignored my shaking hands.

It was time to walk a long way to metro and home but destiny had other plans. Big museum sign with museum card (allows you a free pass to most museums in Finland) image called for me. Empty museum & me. Walking around so inspiring. In one dark corner was this blue & winged statue. 20 centimeters tall. In a glass box. No head. Angel in royal blue. Why I couldn’t avert my eyes?

Stood there probably like 15 minutes. The employees had already given up and left me alone with irreplaceable art pieces. Darkness, me & blue creature. Had like a million story ideas in my head. A boy walks in the museum, finds a statue that takes him on an adventure.

Continued my way and ended up to 5 more museums.

Is it normal to get inspired by art other people have done? Got to know more about the life of Tove Jansson. She’s a very popular Finnish artist and writer behind the Moomins.

Last stop of my day was Temppeliaukio Church – Top 10 Must See Things In Helsinki/Finland Church. I have a lot of traveler mates who keep asking me why the heck I haven’t visited this place. Now I have. Are you happy?

Temppeliaukio Church is nothing that special. Just a church built inside a rock. There I was merging into a Japanese tourist group like everything was okay. Took some photos. Sat in the last row. Purple seat, extinct candles, no silence. I’m not that religious but visiting churches or religious sites has always been one of my favorite things. The atmosphere holds something special – makes me want to write.

Only at home I realized today was a bad day.

There’s no feeling in my legs. Hands keep missing keys. Couldn’t eat, can’t swallow. For a moment I didn’t even remember if I took the pills this morning. I want to write but my head keeps forgetting words in English and in Finnish. Tomorrow is going to be worse – I can feel it in my bones. Why can’t I just let myself rest when needed? I want to live so badly that it backfires.

Now I will watch Netflix – started Supernatural even if it gives me nightmares. Maybe read a few pages of Virginia Woolf’s first diary. I’m in the year 1917. Her beautiful descriptions of the daily life of two writers have changed to something different. Short, meaningless, like she was trying to hide something. Two years of the diary are missing and Wikipedia tells me she published her first books but also tried to kill herself during that time.

So much can happen in so short time. Where will I be in two years?