I live in Ukraine. And I'm one of those people who has lost almost everything I had.

My home, my job, my sense of security, my confidence in the future.

My life was once normal: I worked, traveled, laughed, made plans, put off important conversations and dreams "until later."
Back then, it seemed like there was still plenty of time.

War very quickly teaches us that there may be no "later."

We Ukrainians have learned to live in constant tension.
We distinguish sounds and understand by them whether something is dangerous or not.
We wake up in the middle of the night with worries and still go about our business in the morning. We smile, even when we're empty inside, because there's no other way to hold on.

Pain is everywhere.
In people's eyes on public transport.
In conversations like "Where are you now?"
In the silence after bad news.

Everyone here has lost something. Some a home. Some loved ones.
Some their former selves.

And yet...
The most amazing thing is that we continue to believe.

We believe that this will end.

That one day we'll be able to simply wake up and not check the news.
That we'll be able to make plans without fear of another explosion ruining them.
That there will be life again, not just survival.

I'm not a strong heroine from a movie.
I'm an ordinary person who feels scared, hurt, and lonely.
But I still hope.

Because if you take away a person's hope, they have nothing left.

And perhaps that's what saves me. Faith that there will be warmth again ahead, not only from the sun but also from people.
Faith in love. Meetings. In a life without sirens.

We have lost much.
But we have not lost the most important thing: the ability to feel, love, and dream.

And as long as this is alive within us, we will surely endure.