Quarantine diaries: Day 1

Schools are closed. Dorms are closed. Even the libraries closed down yesterday. I evacuated myself to my mum’s study where I live between decorative pillows and craft projects. For one month of doing everything remotely, all I packed is a few tote bags of books, my almost dead laptop, and comfortable hoodies.

I’m sick but I’m always sick. It’s not coronavirus. I don’t have a sore throat or cough. This is not a real quarantine but it surely kind of feels like it. And it’s just the first day.

My creative writing teacher asked us to write a quarantine diary every day for this month of remote studying. So, I’m writing. I’m wondering and pondering. Repeating the same routines every day. Going for walks in the forest with my dog. Writing so much that words blend into an unreadable mess. Watching too much Netflix.

Today was the first official day of the quarantine.

Or well, schools being closed and the government asking us to stay home if possible.

I woke up late but feeling like everything in my life will turn out fine. Funny… I just needed one scary disease to make my brain think positively. My mum was just leaving to work. Entrepreneurs don’t have the luxury of social distancing. My little brother was late from his remote class, but it took under a minute from him to get to class. Our dog didn’t appreciate me leaving the bed.

My day started with “Bring the boost” green tea and writing morning pages. Because I don’t have to wake up to school before 9 am there’s also no reason to not write morning pages. I had forgotten how hard it is to write three pages without stopping. But writing them only made me feel better.

Despite the quarantine, I had to see my therapist today. Even she told me I looked bubblier than usually, more alive. She warned me to not do too much. Not trust this feeling. We know how it usually goes for me. I feel good and then start living like everyone else. The downhill starts from there…

The afternoon after leaving my therapist’s office went by writing. I have quite many projects but today was only about writing whatever random came to my mind. Nothing I can show off but will make writing easier tomorrow because now my head is empty of the unnecessary thoughts.

We went for a long walk with my dog. It’s still icy in the forest and I had a small talk about it with the only other person I saw on my walk. Usually, Finns never talk to strangers but apparently, the virus outbreak is a good reason to start doing that. While walking I continued listening to the audiobook of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Sometimes I forgot how much I used to love and still love these classics.

That’s the first day of my quarantine diary. Mom is coming home soon. I have no more schoolwork to do. What will I do for 6 hours before it’s late enough to go to sleep? No idea. Four weeks, it feels like forever to do nothing specific.

Stay healthy everyone!



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.



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.



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.