Please Don’t Forget Me While I’m Gone
And I still have so much more to say, but I need to rest first
I WANT TO TELL YOU SOMETHING honest. And I hope it lands in your heart the way I feel it in mine.
I’ve written so much. Maybe too much.
You already know this isn’t just a journal.
This Substack is the most meaningful thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I never thought I would find something so intense, so full of purpose.
For more than 3 years now, I’ve been capturing the pain we survive, and in the last five months alone, I counted over 80 articles.
I’m completely invested. It’s not wrong to say I’m here 24 hours a day because I dream with articles. Sometimes nightmares too.
This is not a newsletter, but the home of my spirit.
It’s the voice of a country that resists.
I didn’t always know what I was doing. But something changed along the way, and you helped me to see that this work is important.
Your messages, your presence, your trust is my energy.
This is Ukraine beyond the headlines and beyond the bombs. The defiance, the beauty, the terror we carry in our lungs.
It’s truth, without permission.
But there’s another truth I need to share.
This journal gives me the strongest sense of purpose I’ve ever known, but it also drains me.
Because I don’t just write. I live inside each article. Each one is my soul completely exposed.
It’s like donating blood.
Which I do gladly, especially because I’m not donating to one person. I’m donating to a whole country. Or to humanity, who knows.
But even when it’s for good… the body has limits.
Even beautiful things can exhaust you if you never stop.
And I realize that I’ve been donating too much. I feel weak, the balance slipping.
I feel what every soldier, every citizen, every writer eventually feels:
The need to sit down. To close the eyes.
To find the body around the spirit again.
I’ve reached this conclusion with the help of a friend who’s also a psychiatrist. It’s not ideal, medically speaking, but it’s the best I have.
And he knows me. He sees the signals.
We agreed that it’s time to breathe.
To sleep. To walk.
To smell some flowers.
To feel the rain and let the sun touch my face so I can return.
Because I want to go forward with you.
But first, I need to step aside.
I’m not quitting or vanishing.
I just need to restore the energy that allows me to write with my soul.
The energy to write at all.
And when I return I’ll bring a surprise I have been preparing for over 3 months. The next time you hear from me, it will be with something you can hold in your hands.
So for now, I’ll be gone a few days. Maybe a week. Maybe a little more. I’m not sure yet.
But I’ll return.
And I’ll return stronger.
Until then, I have a request:
If you can, share those articles that moved you, especially these three which are my favorites so far:
Hands Off for Them. But Our Hands Still Hold Tight
IT WAS EARLY MORNING IN UKRAINE WHEN I saw you. Just minutes before the sun rose again on this side of the world.
The Nation That Trump Could Never Break
I’VE NEVER WALKED YOUR STREETS. Never seen your beautiful lakes.
They’re not just my favorites, they seem to be yours too.
I don’t know the statistics because my anxiety doesn’t let me look at numbers. But I see so many comments, and take my conclusions from that.
It’s not a coincidence. These pieces carry something essential. And I hope they never get forgotten.
Let them breathe again. Let them reach new eyes. Read them if you still didn’t, show them to your friends…
You’re not just readers, you’re my partners now.
My witnesses. My protectors.
This Substack can only stay alive if you help keep the door open.
And while I’m smelling the Ukrainian flowers, please note: I do not send you DM’s or emails unless I’m replying to yours. I don’t use Telegram. I do not endorse anyone else using my name. Please, stay sharp. Stay safe.
The only ways to support me financially are through a paid subscription here or a tip on Buy Me a Coffee. I’m deeply grateful for that support, but it’s entirely up to you, and it will never affect your access to this space.
I love this work. I love this community. I love to have met you my friends, and please be absolutely sure that you’ve given me something to fight for beyond survival.
I know I risk losing your attention. This world moves so fast and everything is immediate…
But I truly need this step back, and I hope you don’t forget me.
We never know if there will be a next day in Ukraine, but I’m not even considering that. I assure you:
I’ll come back.
And when I return, you’ll feel it.
Until I’m back, sleep. Smell the flowers.
Take care of your piece of the world.
Which includes this space here, too.
I love you for reading.
I love you for being here.
I love you for reminding Ukraine that we are not alone.
— Viktor
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🔖 No matter how you choose to subscribe, thank you for being part of my life.
🔖 The Freedom Line is a project that unites our fights in both sides of the ocean, and I’m so deeply committed to continuing it after this break.
☕ 📖 You can always leave a one-time tip through Buy Me a Coffee and also download my books for free there.
Rest, dear Viktor, and we will all be here when you get back.
Please take time off to rest and recover, whatever you need to do, and for as long as you need. You can't help anyone else if you don't take care of yourself first. We'll still be here holding the space and energy for you! We love you, Viktor!