Today I went for a walk. I must admit I do love the english countryside. It’s beautiful and when the country air just hits you  feel refreshed. My initial plan was to go to a very famous flower garden that I’ve been to once before…about two years ago but I got lost on the way there, so I decided to take a random wander. As much as I enjoyed this little walk, I was left very nostalgic. Two years ago I was living in a house of three men. One of them grew very close to me. I had just started uni, my depression was spiralling out of control, I was having difficulties keeping up with my course e.t.c and there he was. We use to sit and talk about everything: politics, relationships, cooking, world cultures. Just about everything. Every night we sat in the living room talking and laughing, sometimes watching the occasional movie on his laptop. Our house did not have any TV and the living room window directly faced a viaduct. He said he liked it that way. He said it made us more social. We could sit and talk to each other. I agreed despite my incurable addiction to the box. I loved everything about him. His hair (which he was growing out), his accent (He was from Poland), his hands, his beard (when he shaved I used to grab him from behind by the neck and pretend to be playing around, when all I wanted to do was feel the roughness of his beard on my hand). I can honestly say that this was (still is) the only man I had ever been close to in my life. The only man who I got along with. Ever. He was single and it was his last year of uni in UK. I was in  a long distance relationship. I was also naïve.  He started flirting with me. I flirted back  but I was always scared of things getting out of hand. I did not want to be unfaithful even though doubts about the relationship I was in had begun kicking in long before things got intense with this guy (I’ll call him P). P would come  home from uni everyday and either call out my name to see if I’m home and find out how I was doing, this would then be followed by him making me a cup of  tea and us sitting down for a chat, or upon seeing me in the living room  he would call out jokingly “Honey, I’m home.” We would laugh together. I used to sit across him sometimes in the house and he would look at me and I would feel as if  I was naked before him. Sometimes we would talk and then he would stop and look at me with those eyes. It got to a point where it was so intense and the only thing I could do was rush home to him. He was all I kept thinking about. I wanted him to make love to me. I looked at his hands and imagined how they’d feel on my body. I started deliberately doing things  so that I could touch him. I commented about his hair and  touched it. He did this too.

I remember one day we were at home with the other guys talking and laughing. It was really late. I said I was sleepy but didn’t want to go to bed. He joked and said that I must go to bed, because I was a child (he was six years older than me). I laughed and messed about and before I knew it he grabbed me by my waist and carried me upside down on his shoulders taking me to bed. I started screaming and laughing all the way. I’m not sure whether it was the intense feeling of pleasure I was getting from his hands on my waist and partly on my back or  the feeling of the house spinning as we got upstairs. At the door to my room I wanted and hoped he would come in. He put me down and as he did this, our bodies came together like we were hugging. I was going crazy inside. He patted me telling me to go and sleep and kissed me on my leg (random I know, he was very playful) I went to bed very happy. We went for walks together. We were together all the time. He told me about his work (he was  a design student) he told me about how since coming to UK he had confidence issues but he was getting better. We really spent a lot of time together. The day that he knew I had a boyfriend, he went a bit silent on me. I understood. Things again picked up but after many months the sexual tension took a toll on us. He started going cold on me. I did too, I guess as a form of payback. We had a last train journey together during the end of the winter term. I didn’t see him for a month, when we got back he kissed me on my cheek routine-like, a day later he told me he met someone. He told me as a matter of fact, like you would tell a friend in passing. He was on his phone texting when told me. He was so calm when he did it.

“We were supposed to have started something,” he said and smiled smugly.

“I’m just sending her a text. Maybe I’ll go to see her tonight,”

My heart sank. I sat there looking at him and all I could think of was how handsome he was. It should have been me. I should have been that girl he was texting. I should have been the one he was about to start something with. I just nodded, wished him luck and left him there. Days later he brought her home, they had dinner and went out. He brought her home some more. At this point he was ignoring me point-blank. Sometime he didn’t even say hi to me. I felt as if he was doing this just to spite me. He seemed to be overdoing things when she was around. The way they laughed. They way he talked (loudly) as if to  let me know what exactly was going on. I was so hurt. Really hurt. I can’t even begin to explain. Add this to the fact that at that time I badly wanted out of the relationship I was in.

The first time he brought her home and took her to his room (which was adjacent to mine) to have sex I cried. I cried so much I was taken by surprise. They were laughing and kissing loudly. I wanted to be that girl. Over time I came to learn that he had another girl in Poland. I didn’t know how this was working but he talked about it to the other guys in the house and somehow it felt as if he was in some sort of understanding with this girl he brought around. I don’t know whether the girl in Poland also had an understanding with him. It was all so confusing. I did sometimes have a slight feeling of relief whenever I thought about this. As if this girl had nothing on me, afterall she wasn’t the only one having him. My feelings for him never changed but we had stopped talking now. One day while everyone was in the house, he randomly came to the house and asked everyone to go for a walk with him and this girl, and another friend of his from Poland. I reluctantly said yes. We walked for a long time, got lost a long the way until we  finally got to this garden.

I retraced this path today. I walked along the quiet roads. Looked at all the places, flowers. Nothing has changed. They are just as they were when we were there.  I regret not taking the chance with P. I never stop thinking of what might have been. On the other hand I keep telling myself, maybe I would have ben hurt. On the walk we had I remember even though we hadn’t talked for sometime, he took a picture of me and showed it to everyone around. He said I looked nice. The girl looked at it and said yeah. I guess she just wanted to be polite. On the way back as I walked slowly behind, he urged me playfully to move faster. I don’t know maybe he missed me. Maybe he was punishing me for not giving him a chance. We went to a pub and I sat there with the others as he cuddled with the girl and they talked about how they didn’t sleep the previous night because they were busy with each other. I wanted to scream. We got back home and it was back to not talking to each other. I remember the last time I saw him. It was end of term. I was leaving to go see my parents, he was leaving for his graduation. A friend of his from Poland had come for the graduation and there was a lot of activity going on. He was smart in his black trousers and cream shirt adjusting his tie. He just came downstairs, wished me well in my life and went back upstairs to continue getting ready. Just like that, he was out of my life.



It’s Valentine’s Day. Fish is gone.

A few days after he asked me about my friends situation I decided to tell him  the truth. I didn’t want to get into a lot of details about it, just the basics. He understood. He said it’s OK and that it’s perfectly normal to be in my situation. We spent a few more days together and I loved it. I loved the fact that I could trust him. He’s whole and stable. I think I mentioned that is one major reason that makes me like him. On Wednesday however, he got a call from his boss saying they are transferring him to a branch out of the country. A branch in his home country. Remember? So, he had to travel on Thursday. I didn’t talk to him until yesterday. He was asking me if I’m OK. We talked a lot and he told me he will be in the position until September. It’s a temporary position but coming back to work in the UK branch has not been discussed. He’s four hours away so it’s not  the other side of the world but I’m crushed.

We had connection problems  at the end of his call last night so we didn’t finish properly on the phone but he texted me later explaining and told me not to worry about a thing.

I just want to run away.

Happy Valentine’s to all of you.


I feel really bad today. My friends are out for the night and I’m here in front of my laptop, trying to do something useful. I don’t have money so I can’t afford to go out tonight. I know it’s not really important but I feel like I’m missing a lot. The fact that my friends don’t know about this and obviously I can’t tell them drives me even more mad.


I can’t recall the exact number of times I’ve cried this past weekend, and today. I usually hate Mondays but today was different because I handed in my last assignment. So that’s it. I’m done for this semester. I crash-landed, but at least I got there. I have about six more months and then it’s a wrap. My miserable excuse of a university life ends. Just like that. I’m still left with that question.What next? Another miserable existence? No prospects. No hope. No happiness. I don’t think I could do it. I pray things change. I’m looking for ways to change things.

I was looking back at my plans for next summer today. I want to do so many things but when I sit down to look at them and attempt to even start planning, I get that sunken feeling. The feeling that all my plans are going to fall apart. It won’t happen. I can’t afford it. I wish they would go away because I really want to do many things with my life.One thing that I’m certain about  is the fact that I will go to Italy. The Italian is the main reason for this but it doesn’t stop there.

I’m now wide awake in bed. I just finished watching a very touching Spanish drama called Princesses. It’s about two prostitutes and their struggles. All I can say is ‘Ain’t this life a bitch?’ I was also looking at some pictures of King on my computer. I had taken them when he was asleep. He looks so peaceful and content, I just found myself yearning for him again. I remember the night before I took those photos we had sex three times. I loved his stamina. His body too. I miss him and I’m not ashamed to admit that to myself or even to him. If only he realised how much hurt he caused me when he cheated. It’s funny  that he constantly says he wants to be loved yet when I came into his life, loved him and remained faithful he still messed it up. I guess a leopard never changes its spots.


I’m really pissed off. I’ve been in my bed crying for the past 15 minutes. I feel sick. I haven’t had anything to eat the whole day. I went out in the rain three times in the morning. I’m pretty sure I’m going to come down with a cold soon. I just hanged up on my mum. I can’t listen to what she has to tell me. I’m mad and I really don’t care anymore. I don’t want to talk to anyone. To her or my dad or anyone. I just want to be able to eat something!!!

It’s these moments that make me think of  how much I fucking hate my life. I really do. I’d give anything to have a different life. To be someone else. Anything. I just don’t know…