How Long Can We Keep Watching?

We can’t stop the war, but we can stop it from being forgotten

YOU HAVE PROBABLY FELT IT.

That quiet guilt of scrolling past another post about Ukraine. The familiar ache of seeing the same tragedy, again.

It’s not that you don’t care. It’s that you’ve seen too much, and nothing seems to change.

It’s that you’re tired.

I don’t blame anyone for that. I really don’t. Because I feel it too.

I know that feeling, because I live in it.

There are mornings I wake up and can’t believe it’s still happening.

For over three years now, I’ve been waking up to the same war.

Not a metaphor. Not a distant worry. A real war. With alarms, and funerals, and buildings turned to smoke.

Three years of ruins, silence, grief, and repetition.

And many times I sit down to write about it, I just don’t know what to share because it seems that you have already read everything you need about Ukraine.

I know that you are caring, that you are aware. Every article here has so many kind and wonderful messages in reply and comments.

The kindest words one could ever receive, for me personally and for my nation.

The hardest part of all is when the pain doesn’t come with headlines anymore. When the deaths don’t get names. When the news cycle moves on, but the missiles don’t.

I don’t write to be dramatic. I write because if I don’t, I feel like I’ll vanish. I feel like my nation risks to be vanished.

I’ll be honest with you: some days, I feel like a broken record. Writing through the same grief. Telling different versions of the same truth.

Russia hasn’t stopped. Ukraine hasn’t healed. And the rest of the world… well, it’s harder to tell.

But then I think of you. I picture someone, someone living oceans away, thousands of kilometeres and miles of distance. In beautiful places like Seattle, Toronto, Phoenix, Philadelphia, Liverpool.

Someone who hardly have heard much about Ukraine before this mess.

Someone has no personal reason to care. But does anyway.

That’s what keeps me going. Not the headlines. Not the numbers.

You.

The point is: we’re still here. And we still need each other.

Because when you read this, when you let yourself feel this, you’re doing something that’s becoming rare.

You’re refusing to look away.

And that’s the only real hope we have left.

Not miracle weapons or diplomatic breakthroughs. But human beings still willing to care, even when it's hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

If you’re tired of watching, I understand. I’m tired of living it. But I still believe this is important. Every word. Every connection. Every small choice to stay close.

You already know that we don’t need to keep watching.

We need to keep feeling.

Because the moment we stop feeling, that’s when they win.

And I’m not ready for that. Not yet.

Not ever.

🇺🇦

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📖 “The Divine Comedian: Ukraine’s Journey Through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise” is more than my first book: it’s Ukraine, seen from inside the fire, and the hope that refuses to die. Download it for free (PDF & Kindle) and see what survival really looks like.