I never imagined that I would go through a journey like this. I am from Damascus and before the war my family was happy.

At first I thought the uprising against Assad was a great thing, and my brother and I went on marches, but soon it became too dangerous. Now you never know what will happen in Damascus. Every other day there are bombardments, shelling and mortars. I have lost many friends.

In Syria, military service is compulsory, unless you are studying or are a family’s only son. As I was coming to the end of my degree, I knew that I would be forced to join the army. I didn’t want to do this because the army is killing its own people. There are no good sides in the war in Syria now. It is a religious civil war – I didn’t want to be a part of that.

Finally I told my parents I was going to leave the country. I wanted to go to the UK because I speak English and hoped to continue my studies. I had also heard that it is a country that treats refugees fairly. My brother who is younger than me left too: he is in Sweden now. My mother, father and sister encouraged us to go, but could not make the journey as well because my father is too old. I don’t think he will ever leave Damascus, however dangerous, because he loves it too much, but I hope that one day I can help my mother and sister to leave.

In March I took a bus to Lebanon, then a plane from Lebanon to Turkey. I stayed in Turkey for three months, but that was hopeless. I found a job but the boss wouldn’t pay me. Then I got another job in a jeans factory, where at least they gave me something, but only half the salary of my Turkish colleagues, and it wasn’t really enough to live on.

I took a train to Edirne, on the border with Greece, then walked for 12 hours. I got to the third town after the border but I had no euros and no one would change my dollars. The police caught me sleeping on the street and took me to a detention centre. The next day they put me in a van with other refugees and drove us into a wood, near the river that forms the border with Turkey. The men who let us out of the van were not wearing police uniforms. They all had their faces covered and were carrying sticks: it reminded me of Isis. We were terrified because we didn’t know what they were going to do. Eventually they pushed and shoved us into boats and took us across the river and handed us over to the Turkish police.

In the end I paid a smuggler $1,000 to take me to Greece by boat. There were 47 of us, including three women and two children. We had to get into a van and drive for three hours to reach the boat. There were no windows, only two holes in the ceiling. Whenever someone was having trouble breathing, we let them stand by the hole.

The boat was even worse. I don’t think there should have been more than 20 people in it. We were all very scared. I was sitting by the motor and there was water everywhere. The engine was puffing smoke in my face, making me throw up. After 10 minutes the smuggler abandoned the boat and told one of the refugees to drive us. Of course he didn’t know the way. He started following a light, but it turned out to be the light of another boat.

The other passengers were reading the Qur’an and praying we would be safe. I covered my face and tried not to think about it. I had no control over what was happening, so in my heart I gave myself to God and just hoped and prayed that nothing would happen.

Syrian and Afghan refugees are helped ashore by locals after their dinghy deflated just off the coast of the Greek island of Lesbos. Photograph: Alkis Konstantinidis/Reuters

We were in the boat for five and a half hours before we saw an island. We ran out of gas before we reached it and had to call the Greek coastguard to beg for help. The coastguards threw us a rope to hold on to and towed us to land.

From there I took more boats, buses and trains to western Europe. A lot of the time you have to walk: people call it the “ant road” because of that. There were women with children and old people, which made me sad to see. It was difficult enough for me – how did they manage it?

When I reached the Serbian border I walked through the woods to avoid checkpoints. I followed a group of refugees who had a smuggler with them to find the way. In Belgrade I was robbed at gunpoint in a hostel, but I also met a man who let me stay at his house because he too had been a refugee once.

I only knew one person who had been to the 'jungle'. She had said it was a nice place, but it was hell

We had to avoid towns so we wouldn’t be caught by the police, and instead walked through farmland in Serbia and Hungary. I was with some other refugees when we met a smuggler who said he would take us to Austria by car, but instead he drove us to the border of Hungary and never came back. In Hungary the police caught us and put us on a train. When it stopped at a station they were taking everyone off, and in the rush I managed to escape and jump on another train that was going to Budapest. I was very lucky but I lost my bag. From there I got trains to France. When a ticket collector started asking for passports I hid in the toilets.

Finally I got to Calais. I only knew one person who had been to the “jungle” and I think she must have lied to me. She said it was a nice place, but it was hell. It was freezing and I had no tent, no sleeping bag or warm clothes. We were given one meal a day. If you want to stay in France you have to wait there for four months. I would never stay there after the way they treated us. It was the lowest point of my journey.

To get to the UK I attempted to jump on a train, but it was too hard. Seeing people coming back injured after trying was awful. So I went to the port. When the lorries slow down outside, people open the back and jump in: the drivers don’t know you are there. I had tried before, but they always stopped us at the French checkpoint and you have to go back to the jungle and try again. Finally I managed to jump into a lorry with car motors inside. There was very little room and it was very uncomfortable but the lorry had a soft top so I wasn’t worried about suffocating. There were three of us in there. We didn’t make any noise until we reached Dover.

Now I am in the UK I feel safe and happy. Compared to the other places I passed through and the way I was treated it is great. I am waiting to meet a lawyer and get my papers. I want to do a translation course so I can work. My only regret is that my family aren’t here with me. The bombing has got worse since I left and I am very scared for them.

I wish people understood that refugees are fleeing from a bad situation. We are not here to take your jobs, or to behave badly. We know we are guests and we are grateful for your help. We think it is very humane of Europe to take us.

Do I think the journey was worth the risk? At the time I didn’t know. I just wanted to get somewhere I could live with a bit of dignity.