To the streets being soaked in the cold water splashed by our police forces, being shot by snipers and beaten to death by our own citizens. But we went through it, we made the revolution happen. We won against our own government, our best men fell, my father got shot in the eye, the grave is joined by the army of angels. And that's when Russia decided to attack us behind our backs. In eight long years of war, multiple dead friends and thousands of broken lives. My older sister was one of those people whose dreams were torn apart by those who are never in Ukraine, as Russia likes to call it. Those eight years, every Ukrainian was praying for a peaceful sky. And it's weird to say, but war became our usual state of life. It was almost not scary anymore. Before the morning of the 24th of February. I woke up at 05:30 in the morning from loud thunder. My cat was going crazy. My windows were shaking one, two, and three hits. It took me a minute to understand this was not thunder, only bombs. A second later, I receive a call from my dad “The war has begun, hide”. From that moment onwards, we have not had a single minute of peace. That morning, I heard more than fifty explosions, bombs, rockets, shootings, theirs, ours. After an hour we heard about the first tanks coming from every single border of the map. At some moment, I thought I was sleeping and I just needed to shake my head. How were all those young people going to shoot us? This Russian soldier is my age. In another life. We might have been married, maybe we would have had three kids and a fluffy cat. But now he's driving these tanks and killing my people. Every bloody Second, there were more and more bombs everywhere in the country, more dead people, more terrible explosions. And they started claiming some territory as theirs. My sister was calling me every hour to check if I'm alive. Every “Hey, how are you?” from a friend meant “If I die just know that I love you.” Have you ever received a message from a friend saying: “I think it's the end. They took over the city. I hope you'll make it out alive.” You haven't. I have seven times in two days. The morning of the 25th brought news of blood battles all around my city, the capital that they need to take over to kill us faster. Hundreds of people were fighting all around the borders in fear, all so the Russians didn't come in. And don't forget bombs and nonstop firings all the time. After checking on every family member to be alive, a bathtub filled with water, phones charged, canned food prepared, my dad went to the main building of the volunteer army forces. And then the scariest part began. They entered here. They took over military machines and they started shooting the volunteers, with my dad being inside. He wasn't injured, bombs that followed up didn't make it to the authorities. And you know what's funny? People thought we were lucky. Can you imagine calling yourself lucky when an army of foreigners shoots down your cities with rockets? When kindergartens are bombarded and kids are being sent to hospitals. When you need to check on your ex because a military plane was shot and fell into a civilian building right next to him. Or when you see a military Machine of Death passing by your house. You wouldn't call this being lucky. And neither would we a few days ago. But now for us being lucky means to make it alive on to the next morning. And all of this has only begun. They are not stopping unless we stop them. As for now they only gather more pain for Ukraine, together with a bigger army, death, and blood on the hands of everyone who stayed apart. And to all people who hear this. The only way to stop this is to follow the lead of the 13 soldiers that gave their lives protecting one of our islands from the Russian army. When those invasive assholes went: “I am a Russian warship. I suggest you put down your weapons and avoid bloodshed.” Our heroes replied: “Russian warship go fuck yourself.”
Speech by a Ukrainian citizen at the protest in solidarity with Ukraine on the 26th of February 2022 in front of the Russian Embassy.