The Day Russia Got New Friends

What if America decides Russia isn’t so bad after all?

AFTER THREE YEARS OF WRITING from war, a new poll got to me in a way I didn’t expect. Not because it was wrong. But because it might be right.

I read it slowly. I already knew what it would say.

The Economist had published this new polling. Something about how Americans see the war. And somewhere between the first sentence and the first graph, I stopped breathing the way I usually do. 🔗

More Americans are becoming sympathetic to Russia.

Not just Republicans. Even Democrats are starting to soften.

That word. “Soften.”

Felt like it was trying to protect me. Like if choosing something gentle wouldn’t hit so hard. I appreciate the attempt, but it did.

It hit exactly where it was supposed to.

Three years of war. Three years of trying to live with sirens instead of silence. Three years of making space in your mind for griefs you don’t even have time to process.

We’re still dying. But now, millions of people just aren’t sure anymore if it still matters.

Still a minority, sure. But don’t forget that one percent of the U.S. population is the equivalent of that of entire nations. And we are talking here about much more than 1%.

And now some are even starting to side with Putin.

I don’t know how to even say what that feels like. It’s not betrayal. That word is too clean for that. It’s not even abandonment. That would mean they were with us to begin with.

It’s more like watching a fire, and turning to ask for water, and seeing someone reach for gasoline.

And who knows if they mean to. It might be fatigue, or just the comfort of distance. It could be that they simply have moved on, because they have that choice.

But I haven’t moved. I’m still here.

Still writing from a place where silence isn’t peace.

A place where shadows move faster than they should. Where every day is just another version of “don’t fall apart yet.”

So when I see people, good people, tired people, distant people, starting to say or even consider thinking Russia isn’t so bad, I don’t know what to do with that.

I don’t know how to explain that the missiles don’t care how neutral one can feel. That our lives don’t change because someone got bored.

I wanted to shake the screen. I want to scream very loudly, “They’re still killing us.”

I want to yell, “We’re still here.”

But mostly, I whisper:

“Please don’t forget us. Not now. Not like this.”

I whisper because shouting doesn’t work anymore.

You can’t win a war with feelings. I certainly know that.

But sometimes I think the only reason we’re still standing is because we haven’t let ourselves go numb. And I won’t go numb. I won’t stop caring just because it’s easier.

I will not stop writing just because some people stopped reading.

If someone asks you what I’m doing with this journal, why I keep pouring all of this in words, why I won’t just let the silence take over, don’t give them a speech.

Just show them the chart. The one with the lines that say less people now consider Russia “unfriendly” or an “enemy.”

That’s all. It says everything.

Because if someone can look at those lines and still think I should stop writing, then maybe this war was lost long before the first bomb fell.

🇺🇦

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🔖 I can’t stop the silence, but I can leave a mark inside it. If you can help me keep whispering from this side of the war, please consider joining as a paid subscriber. It makes sure this small light doesn’t fade.

📖 “The Divine Comedian: Ukraine’s Journey Through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise” is more than a book: it's my attempt to capture Ukraine’s unbreakable spirit in our darkest and brightest moments. If you want to see this war through the eyes of those who refuse to surrender, I invite you to read it. Download it for free in PDF and Kindle formats: