03/23/2026
Spending my days abroad as someone directly affected by a war.
Creativity feels like a crime. Joy feels forced yet fleeting. Sadness feels fake and performative.
Anger. Anger feels valid.
An ever-expanding emptiness, and an apathy for the mundane.
“I do not care, and I wish to know no more.
I am war-torn people. I prevail at the cost of my sanity.
Nothing matters to me beyond that, but survival.”
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Monday, March 23rd 2026