A few days ago I bought the diaries of Virginia Woolf – all five of them published in Finnish. I have never even read novels by this 1900 century (edit: “20th century” I still can’t get this English century bullshit correct…) author but somehow she always appears for me whatever I’m reading or talking with other writers. Surprisingly, I got hooked.

It’s interesting how a woman from hundred years in the past can remind myself so much. Problems with a dysfunctional family, trips to the library, thinking her writing isn’t good enough. But that’s not all. Reading the diaries of so normal things made me want to start again.

When was the last time I wrote diary? It has been too long…

So, two days ago right after buying the books and getting hooked I started my own diary in Finnish, my native language. It felt so good. Just talking about silly useless things and throwing some of my own thoughts in between.

Just now I wrote my new found diary for the third day in a row. It didn’t feel enough. My mind was screaming in English like it sometimes does. Nowadays I feel like I’m bilingual – at least when writing and in my head. That’s why I’m writing this. It feels right. To share my thoughts on the internet.

Right now I’m staying at my sister’s place while she lives at our mom’s because of work. Week of solitude in the big city of Helsinki. I’m feeling kind of lost, to tell the truth.

I really want to run around visiting every possible sight there is to see but my body can’t take it. Feels like every millimeter of me keeps screaming against leaving the bed. I have been on iron medicine for a week now after living three years with chronic illness. My head is getting out of the brain fog but the body can’t keep up.

Despite sleeping in and feeling nauseous I bravely decided to go to museum today. Saw all kinds of traditional Finnish paintings (felt like I was back in school, a good or a bad thing?): Haavoittunut Enkeli The Wounded Angel, Raatajat rahanalaiset, Taistelevat Metsot.

Out of them all my favorite is Akseli Gallen-Kallela’s Aino-taru. In three images this painting tells a story from the Finnish national epic where Väinämöinen tries to get married to a young woman named Aino. However, Aino drowns herself because who would want to marry an old creepy man?

So, maybe this is not my favorite for the story… the truth is that a smaller painting of this Finnish masterpiece hung on my childhood home’s toilet. Takes me back to those good old days.

After my museum day trip, I pleased myself with a stroll around local bookstores. (But didn’t buy anything!) And then it was time to return home or well my sister’s home. How should I call it? There’s still a few hours left this day but I’m probably going to spend it watching Project Runway.

Peace out!

Future diary entries you can find from here.

What ifs for you

I can’t make you love me, not after all this time. You laugh so lightly for his eyes sparkling like million stars. And I can only smile for your happiness even if somewhere deep inside of me all I think is what ifs. What if I had told you? What if even for a moment our eyes had met across the dark room full of our friends? What if I hadn’t feared or been scared? But in the end, these questions won’t change anything because you love him. And I’m just here. The one who didn’t get away didn’t even try. Just standing and never moving. I let you in and screamed my truth. Still, you choose to not see me – the true me who only craved you.

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