The first meal. 

The very fit proper meal that I have made on my own !!!! 

Don’t want to say anything but grandpa had to ruin it for me by randomly deciding that my dinner time was the best time for him fixing my T.V. Thus … I had to watch the little green line that indicated how long is left to downloading more channels.



How would you describe your situation now Kamila ? 

Well, let’s begin with the fact that I am sitting on a toilet while writing this. 

Desperate times call for desperate actions. 

Anyway, I have deeply enjoyed yesterday’s journey to Poland. Honestly. I had great fun waiting for an hour on a uncomfortable puff in the middle of the airport. Then repackaging too much just to go down a kilogram in my luggage and then having to carry the extra weight on board. But wait, because before you get on board you wait. This was horendous I had to sit in a comfortable bench!!!! But you know what always makes the trip better ? Children 😊.  

So instead of reading and enjoying the good standards of the Irish airport I have a fantastic back pain now because that little angel wouldn’t stop shaking this fucking thing. 

Now where were we? Ahh yes! The flight. 

Bar the ass of the father that continuously came to check on his little baby daughter  (because she was sitting with her mum beside me) constantly being in my face, a screaming child who was very curious about the world outside the window, and the guy in front who I just couldn’t stop staring at, it was … pretty umm boring ? 

But on a more serious note, the elderly couple who sat beside me were holding hands for the entire journey. And it’s these little things that make me believe in love. 

That is of course until I realised he is reading “How on earth did Jesus become God?” And then I got the chills of some sect or something. So because I was lucky enough to be quick with my luggage I was out welcoming my grandfather pretty much instantly.   

The reason why I wasn’t lucky was because the next person I greeted was aunti Hela. Which was umm . . . Funny ? 

We spend the entire trip deciding whether or not we’re going the right way. In the end it turned out we weren’t and so we had to turn around. Y.E.Y. 

In the end we arrived tired, uncle farting,  my grandfather screaming how he needs to pee, aunti still talking about how she knew exactly where to go and we didn’t listen to her and me with an enormous headache.  

And what’s worse – I have to live with that for the next 3 weeks. 

What would you think ? 

Imagine you made a friend. 

A real friend. 

A friend you never had before.  

A friend who you told your deepest secret to. 

A friend who you laughed with. 

A friend who you cried with. 

A friend who motivated you. 

A friend who told you and made you feel worthy. 

A friend who you wanted to spend all your boring hours with. 

A friend who you made plans with.

A friend who you thought was more than a friend.

A friend who made a thousand promises. 

Now imagine he was never your friend. 

You weren’t his. 

You were his toy. 
What would you think? 

“I hate him”

“I want to kill him”


“I want to die” 

“Why me?” 

“I’m such an idiot”


Because all I’m able to think is … 

“I’m wish it was all just a bad dream.” 

I forgave him. Because, yes, that’s who we’re talking about. Catfish. That’s all he was. 

Everything he said was a lie. 

And yes he had the right to make fun of me. After all I believed him – I deserved it. 

He didn’t even apologise just said that he understands… 

I guess I knew it was going to happen. I just thought that it was going to happen a little earlier than  a week before my arrival in Poland… 

It’s Okay.

Then I died.

Thirty minutes ago…

He threw me into a room. It was dark and cold but I was still able to make out the smoke coming out of my mouth when I was breathing. I curled into a little ball and I sat shivering, at the wall – wobbling back and forward. My elbows, hands and knees were bleeding because of the many times I fell onto the pavement. Fear was no longer present in my heart. Instead it was filled with anger, confusion and weakness. I was feeling incapable of lasting.

Suddenly the door opened. The light exploding into my face, blinding me. The hooded figure came closer. It created a clear shadow. It was a man. Wearing old, faded-black trousers and a black hoody.  He was carrying a box. He kneeled beside me and ripped my hands from my knees and held them firmly but gently in his. He took out a cloth, cleaned the wounds and bandaged my hands elbows and knees. What scared me the most was that I wasn’t scared. I gave myself up to him. Willingly.

He left and I was buried in the darkness. I rolled onto my right side and tried to fall asleep. But, I couldn’t. There was a huge banging noise coming from the door. As if someone was using a hammer. About ten minutes later it stopped. The hammering noise was ringing in my ears and there was no way of turning it off. Covering my ears with my hands, squeezing my little head made it only worse.

The door opened again. This time no one was standing in them. Maybe he is letting me go. I thought. I moved closer to the door. My vision was slowly coming to a clear, sharp image. It was a room. As normal as any other living room. Everything was in place; the comfy, used, three place couch at the far wall, the little, mahogany coffee table just in front of it, a high lamp with a cone shaped lampshade and a TV at the one I was standing at. I heard footsteps and when I turned around to face the door way I couldn’t believe my own eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

In the doorway of the living room stood a man with dark brown hair showing few grey ones as well.  He had blue eyes. As blue as the moon in the lightest of nights looking down on the world. He had wrinkled hands that were after many hours of arduous work, with dirt underneath his fingernails. In the doorway of the living room stood, my father.

His face said he loved me – honestly. Questions started filling my head like the lemonade fills our glasses every summer. We stared at each other. My voice exchanged for tears that I was holding inside me. Why would he do this to me? What did I do?

“I’m sorry.” He said. His eyes filled with tears. He was hurting. It was evident. He reached for his pocket and slowly drew out a gun. My eyes suddenly let out three small tears, as if to say ‘I forgive you’. He raised the gun and pointed it at me.

Then I heard a shot. As laud as a thousand fireworks on the new year’s eve in times square. My chest filled with a sudden dash of pain and irritation. Then coldness spread in to my body -slowly- spreading from the tips of my toes and fingers up to my heart. My legs gave up on me and I fell onto the ground. My father rushed to catch me before my stiff, numb body touched the floor. He held me in his arms, tears now mixing with my blood.

He kissed me on the forehead and I whispered “It’s okay,”

Then I died.


I don’t want to be the one who will spill the tears of mine own onto someone else’s face. 

So, I’m just going to say that Rex is no longer here. With me. He us now with Bary. In heaven. 

Goodbye doggie 😙😔😢