I have no emotions left. I don’t feel anything. I don’t know if I could ever be kind and loving again.
At 7:39, two fighter jets flew in front of my seventh-floor window, just towards me. At the level of the tops of the pine trees, which we have just above the eighth floor.
Fuck, that’s a parade I’ll never forget.
Last night, for the first time in days, I wept. I was crying and explaining to Lev why I was crying. I explained about the maternity hospital and the Drama Theater in Mariupol. I explained that no animal could do this. Only powerless cattle without consciousness. I explained the meaning of the word “cattle,” the word “bastards,” and the word “nonhumans.” “Lev, nobody has ever loved them in their life because a person who has known even a little, even a drop of true love in his life, cannot bring such cruelty.
A total lie, that “infliction of love” is passed off as love, breeds nonhumans. The walking meat is born in disliking oneself and others and lying to oneself and others. This meat seeks to fill its bottomless, black, empty meaninglessness with other people’s pain. ⠀
I listen carefully, trying not to pass off wishful thinking as reality.
Today is the second day that I feel more and more steadily and clearly that something has changed in space. And it’s not just me. And also for the second day already.
It feels as if a giant wheel has just barely moved from the freezing point. The sound is at that level where you can’t hear it with your ear, but your whole body feels it. It feels as if you are pressed against the ground, and you can hear through it what is happening very, very far away.
I feel like a dog rushing towards the chase, sensing the beast. I already have a plan.
I am only waiting for one thing, the message that there is no more shooting in Bucha. At that moment, I will buy two tickets to Kyiv. I have a child with me, who knows how to carry a suitcase himself. Which means I will have two free hands. I take as many groceries as I can lift. I will have to carry this load by hand under the destroyed bridge in Irpin as it is clear that the products in our area will not be delivered immediately.
I do not want to go back to a freshly rebuilt Bucha. I want to go back as soon as there is a chance that the child and I will not be shot. I dream of cleansing my city of all the horror it has been through.
I have no hate left in me. I don’t care what the Russians think or whether they can understand us.
I only care about our country, our future, and that we have the strength for it. So that the defenders, the volunteers, the mothers, and everyone in their place will have enough strength. For everything that could to survive. That at least a small spark of love remains in our hearts, from which we will rise to build the new.