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I promise I will be gentle and delicate


February 25, 08:57

Our boys are headed straight for Heaven. No checks, no purgatory, no judgment. They are welcomed by the Nebesna Sotnya (people killed during the Revolution of Dignity), and that list has expanded.

And you, where are you headed for? What are you hoping for? You, too, are someone’s sons, someone’s husbands, someone’s fathers. Someone will cry for you.

But those tears will reach the ground and flow away as blood. Our tears, though, fall to the feet of God. And He can’t help but answer them.

To say “Thank you!” is to say nothing. Just stay alive. You are already victorious. You are already heroes.

And now Ukrainians have a new motto. The motto in the language is comprehensible by the occupier.

Idite nahuy (Go F*ck yourself). I guess that’s somewhere halfway to hell.

Hold tight, all of us! Let’s be worthy of our guys. Too dear a price our freedom and dignity had cost. Maybe, we will finally learn its true value.


Feb 25, 11:12

The occupying force dreads the deed of the soldiers from Zmiyinyi Island more than any sanctions.

For it shows that there is still will besides the power. And if power can be physically tamed, the will only grow stronger with the physical decease. And the will can neither be killed nor destroyed. It gets ingrained in the genes for good. It gets ingrained in our Ukrainian genes.

I’m not scared. When my child comes up and says he’s terrified, my frank answer is that there’s nothing to be scared of: our Soldiers are guarding us. There’s nothing I’ve ever had so much confidence in, as I have confidence in you.

Yeah, sometimes I burst into tears. But these aren’t tears of fear. I haven’t learned how to deal with another kind of feeling — it’s new to me. The feeling of hatred. With the passing of a few days, I’ll learn to live with it. But it’ll leave its trace on my genes, the genes of my son and my would-be grandchildren. And I’ll definitely have my grandchildren.

Anger is an emotion that protects our emotional borders. Something tells me it’s not only about psychological ones.

There will be time for love, but later.

Glory to the nation! Death to the enemies!

Glory to the Armed Forces of Ukraine!


February 26 at 07:59

One day, it will be history. And one day I will tell my grandchildren about it. And I will be proud that we survived. I have been trying to leave for two days. And something does not let me to. Although my friends invite me – even to Poland. This is my home. My school and my son’s school. My friends spend the night here in bomb shelters. At a distance of the heart. Here is my Dad’s grave. I couldn’t understand who I was for so long. Yes, I am actually a Kyivan.

Good morning, my city. You will definitely survive. The angels’ wings are above you.

It still feels like a dream. Mom, who writes: “I’m with a cat in a bomb shelter, everything is fine”. The second night of sleep in clothes. If it can be called a dream. The man who goes out into the night again. As if it is happening during the Maidan. Windows closed with doors removed from the wardrobe. How good that we managed to make wardrobes)) And some strange, supernatural, superhuman faith. And peace. All this shall pass. But I must remember.

Good morning, hometown. My city. A hero city. I know you’re in pain right now. I know you’re hurt. Your avenues, your peaceful streets, your beautiful trees. Outside the window – the third millennium and the third day of the war with those who called themselves brothers. Everything is biblical. Cain was also Abel’s brother.

We will rebuild everything. We will restore everything. Once your corpses become a layer of our soil, grass will grow on it, on which our children will play. They will never forgive you for this night in Kyiv.

I love you, Armed Forces – an army of a great country.

I love you, President. No one will ever call you a clown again. You deserve it.

I love you, Ukrainians. You are cool.

Thank you, bastard, who is still not dead. You made us great. And I’ll wait anyway. I’m stubborn. I am Ukrainian.

Good morning, Kyivans. The morning is still good – and will always be good.

Let’s hold on. You have to stand 💙💛

February 26 at 16:18

I’ve never cursed so much before. Stress, I guess. Please forgive me. I promise I will be gentle and delicate. After Victory. Though who am I lying to. I never was and never will be. Fuck ’em up. May the ground burn beneath their feet. Tetiana Vasytska in Kiev.

Have a good Sunday, darlings. Unconquered and invincible 💙💛


February 27 at 09:38

Now the days of the week are tense. There are mostly numbers in my head. Today the number is 4.

Unexpectedly for myself, after several hours of sleep, I woke up popular. I’m sorry, I don’t have time to answer everyone. But I want to hug all of you so much! And I am so happy to support you. As I can. As I am able to.

I know God has given me some talent. And I really want it to serve my country and my people now.

I have always believed that the word is a weapon. And I will use it to fight.

Thank you for your trust. Thank you for feeling all that I felt when I cried with pride while writing my text yesterday.

Thank you for being there. And for standing. 

P.S. Those of you who are feeling bad, hard, scary – just knock. I don’t know if I’m the right kind of psychologist, because lately, I’ve been crying, laughing, silent, hanging out, telling people to go… themselves… But I’ll help as much as I can.

I’m here. It’s safe with me.


February 27 at 13:46

My child slept half the night in the bomb shelter today. With a fever and a sore throat. My mom was in the other one. Said she found a boiler room and it was warm. The husband was patrolling our neighbourhood. There was a fire in Vasylkiv. I tried not to go crazy from it all, and from a slight form of claustrophobia at the same time. Well, I don’t like dungeons.

I think I got over it. Time will tell. So far, it seems like I’m sane. At least I laugh on the outside, though sometimes a little too much at Facebook jokes. And sometimes I can’t remember the usual names of things. But that’s no big deal.

Do you think I can forgive you anything?

You know what, I’ll try. Because it’s not for me to judge you. I’m quite strong and stubborn, but I’m still human. But behind me stands the One who reigns over the good and the evil of this world. And He sees all things. And He is just and faithful.

My son sleeps in all conditions. Mom and the cat are two reckless raccoons. If they were taken into the military, the moskals (an ethnic slur for Russians by other Slavic nations, mainly Belarus, Ukraine, and Poland) would f*k themselves up. My husband is a man, he’s supposed to be in the army. But I sleep very little and poorly, even in my own bed. Not to mention a cold basement without Wi-Fi.

I’ll tell you what, sweethearts.

I’ll sit here as long as it takes. Furthermore, I’m going to freeze. I’m going to take care of my son. I will wait for a man and I will call my mother. Only, I beg you, my dear ones, take this filth out of my land. And I will sincerely forgive them from the bottom of my heart. Honestly. Later. Posthumously.

They say that even the Pope does not believe in God the way Ukrainians believe in their armed forces. Maybe that’s blasphemy, I don’t know. But I do know that it is a holy truth. We believe so much that we leave him no choice but to stand over us as He once stood over little unconquered Israel.

I have vengeance. And I will pay back. I am obedient and not mad today. For you, God can manage better. I trust You.

Thank you to all who believe in our victory 💙💛


February 27 at 16:45

Half a night in the shelter was not wasted. A thought came into my beautiful head. But you guys are retarded. Our mayor of Kyiv is the heavyweight champion of the world. You better know something, goddamn it. You should have come to Schwarzenegger.

P.S. Two of my philological friends in the bunker asked me to mention that I have PhD in Philology, Literature and Linguistics each time I swear. That’s right. That’s me. Everything is professional and academic.


February 28 at 09:44

The morning doesn’t start with a coffee. With anything else.

With my son’s question: Mom, is the war over already?

With the news feed, one scans if the Führer has shot himself.

With the roll call: are you okay? Where are you? What happened out there?

With the feeling that morning has come again, which means life goes on. We shall live.

Tonight was a quiet night. If that still makes sense.

Took a shower this morning and then put on my robe. OMGGGGG. After four days in clothing non-stop, my body wants freedom.

An armband appeared on the sleeve of the man’s jacket. Nazi. Naturally, a Nazi.

I really want to see my friends, who aren’t that far away, but I can’t yet. My philological bunker friends.

I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing by staying. My husband asked me to go to the countryside 100 km away. Maybe he did not ask me properly? Sometimes I wonder if I can forgive if something happens to my child. But nothing will happen to him. We are all beneath God. And you don’t have to be in the middle of the war to die.

My husband and I are both native Kyivites. Anyway, now we live in its immediate vicinity. My husband was born here, I ultimately moved here when I was ten years old. Our childhood passed here. Our youth. This is where we met, fell in love, got married. Our son was born here. Here in the quiet little cemetery, my father rests. I’m sorry, I’ll be sure to come back after the war.

This is home. My heart is here. And I guess I’m needed here.

We all have our place. Our destiny. Our talents. And our abilities. Everyone gets to experience what they’re meant to experience. And God never gives us more than we can handle. I’ve checked.

You are where you are supposed to be right now. You are doing what you are supposed to do. Just do your thing. But do it in a way that makes the moskals scared to look at us. I don’t know if this counts as Nazism. But I know it will be cool.

I got emojis in my texts again. I think that’s a good thing.

Strength to you, sweethearts.

I’m here for you. And I’m safe.

We will win. It will always be Ukraine 💙💛

P.S. Somebody, tell the owners of Facebook to make an emoji with a yellow and blue heart.


Ukrainian Text by Tetiana Vasytska. Translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team – Mar 09, 2022


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