The more I’m here, the more I understand why all the famous soviet writers were depressing as hell... In a short story called “The Dream of a Ridiculous man” Dostoyevsky shares about a man who made up his mind to kill himself. “Suddenly I dreamed that I picked up the gun and, sitting in my armchair, pointed it straight at my heart - at my heart.” I hate to admit it, but this line comes to mind all the time here. (to clarify no, I’m not trying to literally put a gun to my head) But I feel like this line fully encompasses this suffocating pain and darkness that’s here. Everything you see here, do here, love here, ends with your heart breaking. The amount of stories I’ve heard where someone is describing the death of their loved one and say “His heart couldn’t handle it. His heart just stopped.” Forgive me if I’m wrong, but these people died from heartbreak. I won’t even begin to talk about fully healthy animals dropping dead. I don’t think our hearts where meant to experience any of this. And though we talk about human resilience, and ability to overcome... our bodies keep score. Ukrainians have been though so much already. There’s a reason our family left as refugees from Ukraine in 1999. I know how my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents lived.... All of their stories are traumatic. I never had any grandparents alive in my adult life. Their lives were all cut short. One of my great grandparents died in a soviet prison where they fed him with money. (Yes you read that right) He starved to death. I can sit here for hours talking about all that the soviet union has done and took from my family... but what brings out rage in me the most... is that just when Ukraine was finally becoming a good place to be... when people were finally healing... learning to live, to trust, to open their hearts... these pieces of (insert every curse word here) came back to “RESTORE” WHAT UKRAINIANS HAVE BEEN HEALING FROM FOR DECADS. Nothing else to say but gun to the heart.