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I never meant to birth anything. It was December 2010, and the radiator in my Kraków flat had been coughing rust-colored water for three days. The landlord swore he’d fix it “po świętach,” which in Polish means never. Outside, snow stacked itself against the window like unpaid bills. Inside, the only heat came from my wheezing Pentium and the half-empty bottle of Żubrówka on the desk.My name is Kuba. Twenty-four, jobless, living on my babcia’s pierogi and the 400 zł she slipped me every Sunday after Mass. Online, I was kubson88 on every forum that would have me, but on Krautchan I’d settled into wojakk—a joke I barely remembered making. Wojtek was the name you gave the guy who fixed your sink and never asked for a tip. I figured if I was going to be nobody, I might as well be the nobody everyone recognized.That night I’d been chain-smoking L&M Reds and arguing with a Swede about whose country had the worse winters. He posted a photo of a frozen lake. I posted a photo of my frozen soul. The thread died. I opened Paint.I drew a face the way you draw a sigh: one oval, two dots, a mouth that forgot how to smile. The color came from the palette’s default gray—#808080, the hex code of wet concrete and unpaid rent. No hair. Hair was for people with futures. I saved it as feels.png and almost deleted it. Who posts a doodle and expects the world to care?But the Żubrówka said post it, so I did.wojakk (PL): dzisiaj czuję się jak to [feels.png]