Why ? Why do I miss him ? Why do I worry about him? Why am I angry at him? Why am I angry at him ? Why do I choose to forgive him ? Why is he bothering my mind? Why do I need a strong distraction from him? Why can’t wipe his face from my head even just for a minute ? Why do I find it hard to smile when I know he could be hurt ? Why am I over thinking it so much? Why have I felt like crying last night ? Why do I need him ? Why do I want to need him ? Why am I so confused?  Why can’t time go back ? Why can’t time move faster? Why are guys so annoying?  Why do I fight my will and loose every two minutes to check the phone? Why hasn’t he texted? Why am I so stupid to believe that he will? Why do I not believe in him ? Why do I believe in him ? Why can’t I decide what to think?  Why am I bothered ? Why do I want to believe that it’s just his phone? Why even try to be optimistic ? Why do I think of him every time I am cold? Why do I want to teleport into a world where thinking is impossible? 

What the F-ing F?



I just don’t understand. I know I’m not supposed to think about it. Or write about it. Because I need to try and detach myself somehow. But how?

I like him. It’s not a crush. I like him.

And if I don’t talk to him for an entire day I’m beginning to get this annoying feeling in my tummy. THEY ARE NOT BUTTERFLIES.  It’s more of this sick feeling. Its this feeling that I just wish he texted one single word. Even an emoji would do.

So, what the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t want to be the clingy friend who texts every five minutes to force you to text back. Hell, I don’t have time for that. But just as few days ago we had time to talk and we kind of wasted it, now I wish that time was given back to me. Sometimes, I wish that things would happen in a different order. So that something would happen and later we would have time to talk about it. Not the other way around.

And the most heartbreaking thing is that with every day we’re getting closer to summer. To the time when we will finally meet. He promised me a Skype conversation first. But it doesn’t seems like he wants it.

This creates a worry in my head. Because what if I am just delusional. What if he is just in my head. And the Skype talk with burst the bubble into an abyss?

Or worse . . .

It will make me like him more . . .


Okay, let me just say that this post is just about as overdue as my period.

What? I’m a virgin – don’t you worry child.

Ha! See what  I did there?

Image result for gatcha gif

Right. So let me recall the very reason I began this blog. And if your not blind then you probably managed to read the subtitle. I.e. “The Gap Year”

And we’re referring here to my college.

“Kamila !!! you seriously need to work on your intros. They suck! They’re way to long and sarcastic. Or whatever you’re trying to be.”

Thank you for that Sherlock.

So, the purpose of this year was for me to figure out what the F do I want to do with my life. Do I want to become a doctor? Like me granddad wants me to. Or maybe I should follow in my brothers footsteps and do mechanical engineering. Maybe I should make my mothers wish come true and become an accountant. Or do what my dad things I’m good in. Journalism.

Maybe I should just be who my childhood self would love to be – teacher, architect or a singer.

In the end however I still have no F-ing clue!

Because how should I? If all I hear is how my choice is the worst in the world. And that I want to be original thus I choose this. I.e. Multimedia.

For those of you who don’t know …

This is the structure of the first year …

  • Introduction to Social Studies
  • Imaging and Design
  • Sound Production
  • Multimedia Studies
  • Digital Video
  • Designing Websites
  • Writing for Media
  • Psychology, Media and Creativity

And as much as I don’t have a clue about anything of this sort I find these titles very appealing. The fact that all of these are based on continuous assessment only, makes it even more attractive. Imagine having no stress to have to sit in a crowded hall, full of sweaty teenagers and trying to keep a grip on your pen, while remembering what was that one very important thing, the lecturer said in the beginning of the year.

Multimedia is basically telling a story – whether based on facts or not, but with the use of all the different mediums. Including audio, images, text and animations. And for me this is fun. Much more fun then sitting at a desk all year long and counting.

As much as I love numbers – I have enough of them in the shop.

Now, the question is what can I do after that? And to that my dear friends I haven’t found the real answer just yet. I mean, I know that I have many options. But I haven’t decided which one is the one for me. And I think that it would be best if I would leave it for another two years.

Now, coming back to my decision.

Is it good?

How am I supposed to know? The last time I checked I wasn’t God.

Am I going to stick with it this time?

Well, the last chance to change my mind is still a month away sooo …

Image result for change of mind gif


29 April 2017. 

I wrote this on the 29 of April on my way back home. Didn’t have time to post it and also my mood got better. But I just wanted to show you that I have feelings. And if you ever thought about self harming yourself you should give it one more day.

I don’t even know why I’m sad. 

There is so many different thoughts going through my head right now, that it seems just too easy to get lost. I feel like it’s a maze there, with no particular ending. You just go in, and go deeper and deeper into the oblivion of what if’s and rather die’s and I’m stupid’s. 

There is no way to put it all in order but I guess if if there is anywhere I can start is that the thoughts have returned. I can’t figure out why. But it’s overwhelming to say the least. Honestly, suicide wasn’t something I thought of for about a year now. Yeah, there were times – times of weakness – but they only lasted a few seconds, minutes at most.  

But since a few days ago they have returned – with a bang. And I think about it a lot. 

Maybe it’s because I’m away from home and I see how useless of a person I am a bit more clearly. Maybe it’s because I’m coming home and I will have to face who I try to be. 

Maybe I just want some attention? 

I don’t know.  

The second thing is the fact that I feel used. Like a robot. I know – I don’t have the right to feel like that. I don’t have the right to moan. To be upset because my parents are doing everything for me. But yet I can’t stop this feeling. 

I get agitated extremely easily. If you give me to many tasks, talk to me when I’m really tired or simply do the wrong thing when I’m on my tiptoes, you might as well just have set off a  nuclear bomb. 

And the sad thing is my mom knows that. 

Should know that. 

I told her so many times, that I’m afraid I’m out of words. 

And then the continuous asking. “Are you okay?” No answer. “She’s probably just tired.” No answer. “She’s overwhelmed by the book she’s reading.” My parents would talk to each other now. “She’s missing him again.” They laughed. And then back to me. “Are you thirsty?” Shook my head. “Do you still have that Fanta?” I wanted to puke. My feet hurt and I wanted nothing else then to curl up into a ball and listen to “Somewhere only we know.”. And not hear. Not feel. I wanted to be away from everyone and everything. But my mom is a smart person who, way too often pretends otherwise. She told dad to dig it out for her from my backpack. He shook not only the bag. But my, at the time totaly lifeless, body. And it ached me more than I could have handled. But I just stayed quiet wishing it was over, so that I wouldn’t hurt them again. 

I guess that in all of this you could say they were worried. But I think it was not so much as worry as caring for themselves. Because when I’m sad I act out. That’s what teenagers do. Apparently. And they just don’t want to deal with that.

And as all those thoughts, plus ones that I don’t feel like sharing, are going in a spiral around my head the devistation in my heart goes deeper. And deeper. Until it’s impossible to dig out. 

And I’m sad. 

And when I’m sad I tend to think about the good things. And find reasons to end them. So, for the past hour I have thought about this one good thing. And I decided to end it before it ends me.

Good thing is, that I didn’t end it. Because it would’ve even the stupidest thing I could have done. And just for yourself – if your feeling down and you think about ending something just give it one more day. After all if it’s what you really need and want then it should be there tomorrow as well.


It seems so pointless,     

Like breathing during your last seconds.

It’s hard.      

But to that there will be no admittence.
To touch, to sea, to hear, to smell , to taste. 

That sweet sweet essence.

His breath.

Those eyes.

That warmth.

Emptiness is what’s here. 

Not him.                

Only 22 more nights. 

Patience will be rewarded. 

By me. 

You won’t understand …

I swear to God, if my mother will try to talk to me at home I will scream. 

There is no words to describe how I feel right now. 

I want to die. But I can’t waidt till tomorrow. I want today to be over. I am dead tired. I feel more then guilty of being rude. But it wasn’t  my fault I just had too much to do. I feel embarrassed. I can’t breathe. I’m not able to cope. I am shaking inside. Every thought guests.  Every word it itches.  I want to cry but I have to be strong. I’m overexaggerating. But I don’t want room be strong.  I want someone to see what I’m feeling. But I I don’t want to show. I’m doing a crappy job at it. 

“God Kamila, it was jut a shitty day at work. Get over yourself!” – that’s what you would probably say if you knew why I feel like that. 

But it wasn’t. I mean it was.  But itt wasn’t only it. Work was tragic and that started bringing up memories which re-floated yesterday. 

I felt again like that bird in a cage. That’s how I described it to my favourite teacher when she was on a final mission to sort our my bullying situation. Always afraid to speak up because of what might happen. Never being able to say the full truth because your responsible one for the consequences. Which for just one person might be not the best. But you’ve been brought up as a good hearted person. No. You are just like that. Hurting others is what makes you go insane. Yes you do it. Sometimes our of anger. Sometimes because they don’t understand and you blow. Sometimes because your confused and the easiest thing is to lie. 

And now your sitting on a path in front of the canal and thinking how nice it would be to just jump in. How nice would it be to just drown. Maybe not yourself. But maybe… Honestly you don’t know anymore. You just don’t want to exist. But why? Nothing much happened. 

Why do you constantly want to cry? 

What’s wrong? 

Ahscdmdjdyxbejaisvzjhzbdgslayrmysnavlaudbd qludbsjd eh d uxnsuanavksudbwjajaoalagakaibdnxhxj 

that’s  what happened … now fuck off ! 

Told you … 

The kiss.

She saw him. 

Her eyes lit up like the forests burning in the summer. The tips of her fingers were beginning to itch. She needed some air. She needed to close her eyes and not see. That was the only way she would survive.  But every tiny flickering of his dark hair, slowly soothed his forehead. It brought her attantion to his eyes. Brown. Rich mahogany brown. She could stare at them for hours. There was something enchanting about them. Something that she could never figure out. Was it fear? But he was brave. So Goddam unhumanly brave. Was it kindness? Maybe, but that was more seen in his actions. Was it happiness?  But he gave all that away to her. Was it love? But nobody could love her. 

Her mind was filled with so many things. In between, all the layers of images of his beautiful face and feelings rushing through her heart which she wasn’t able to comprehend. Consumed by the fear that emitted straight form her heart onto her palms and forehead in the form of sweat, she forgot to move. She stood there shivering from the draft. 

Her vision was slowly beginning to dissappear. His face impaired by the most mesmerising shapes and colours she has ever seen. They were comforting. She slowly began to relax. And the tips of her fingers were no longer itchy. In fact she couldn’t feel them. Nor her hands. Nor her legs. Beautiful oblivion composed of obsidian consumed her.

And then she began falling. Like a feather. Floating through the galaxy of broken dreams and memories. 

She was safe. 

Suddenly, wrapped around the warmest most comfortable of materials. His skin felt like the most expensive cashmere washed in a washing machine. No longer perfect. But still something you would give up all your clothes for. His arm hair lightly tickling the back of her neck and causing the best discomfort she could ever ask for. 

When the picture of his face, of his soft large lips, of his nose, his eyebrows, his eyes, became clear, she took a breath. 

He said something to her. She couldn’t figure out what. She was too busy understanding where she was. People with suitcases, with piles of bags on trollies, and with single briefcases, were all standing around in a perfect circle. She was the centre of the attention. She hated that.  Her heart started beating again. Faster. Faster. She felt like it was going to jump out any minute. Blood rushed to her head. 

He said something again. She didn’t understand. How such a beautiful angel would apear to her. She had to touch him. Even just for a second. 

But then she was really flying. He thrust her up onto her legs. Not letting go even for a mili second. Good. She would collapse again. 

He said something again. She wanted to hear his voice so freaking badly.  She wanted to tell him how happy she was. But she was stuck. Like the cars in a Los Angeles traffic jam. Clogged. Like a sink. 

But she was safe. 


His scent was unbelievable. He was sweating. But she didn’t care. She liked it. It was this immense mixture of sweat, gasoline, deodorant and oranges. He must’ve eaten oranges for his breakfast. She loved oranges so much. 

And then her face was in his hands. He had the control. He always took control. That’s what she liked about him. 

Looked up at him. She was confused. Scared a little. No. Not scared. Anxious. What was he doing. She looked to his eyes for answers. But they were smiling. And then she couldn’t see them anymore. All she could see … feel … He took her breath away. She felt dizzy. What was happening? His lips. But … What? Her heart. Why was it beating so fast. Her eyes suddenly fell on top of her. 

His softness. His warmth. His strength. His ease. His delicacy. Him. 

She was safe. 

He wouldn’t hurt her. 

She pulled on to his jumper. She didn’t want to risk him being even an inch away from her. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing. 

All she knew, was that she needed, desperately to kiss him back.