sunfright: Detail from painting by Vilhelm Hammershøi. (hammershøi)
S. ([personal profile] sunfright) wrote2024-05-12 07:57 pm
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sunday.





We've had a four day weekend due to Ascension holidays. The weather has been really lovely, we've spent almost all our time on our terrace, me writing and K. basking in the sun. Everything is blossoming right now, we have dandelions and little daisies in our lawn which we should probably get rid of, but it looks so cute and I love the colour blocking, the stark green, the yellow and the white. Pretty.

I'm seeing my therapist on Tuesday which is very much needed. Lately, I'm triggered by so many otherwise mundane things. Today I burst into tears during a simple conversation with my girlfriend. I know it's a good sign that I can feel myself now, that I'm finally beginning to connect myself to what happened in school, but oh my fucking God do I wish I could control my outbursts a little better. It's embarrassing and inconvenient, always.

Mother's Day today. I managed to get a gift for my mom when we met last weekend and that helped the lowkey drama we've had the past years where I "only" got her flowers. Still a somewhat rough day to get through, when your relationship to your parents is fucked.

Mostly I'm writing. Taking a breather from Lest They Leave and have instead gotten started on a dozen beginnings for a new project where the basic idea is Holstebro, my old hometown, in the very early 20th century as backdrop for the tragic romance of two girls growing up there. I'm really not a fan of the kill your gays trope, but the plot kinda insisted after I started working on it - and I decided to go with it, see how it would pan out. I'm kinda trying to mimic, like, a gothic-y romance? That kind of vibe. One girl commits suicide, the other ends her life in an asylum, that's the kind of tragic we're talking... I have started over 3 times before I finally seemed to have a breakthrough a couple of days ago. Like that, it's shaping up to be an epistolary-format novella with letters from a mother to her children, recounting her love story with the girl who killed herself, while she herself loses her grip on reality (which was somewhat loose already). I'm loving the language I get to write in (writing in English again, although about Denmark) and the style I've struck, so hoping it'll continue this smoothly, although I doubt it. Writing rarely does. It's not in its nature.

Working title is, What We Leave Behind, because apparently I have a thing for the word leave.

For mood music, I'm listening to this right now:



What is everyone up to these days? I know I've been MIA.