The war inside

The day the war started, it felt like the streets of Moscow, the houses, the people and the atmosphere got poisoned, like my Russia fell terminally ill. I couldn’t breathe, so I left my home, wanting to help others fleeing the war.

Every day I feel this war inside of me. I feel it when I help the refugees from Ukraine. It hurts when a random person asks me where I come from. And I feel guilt, for my own tears are insignificant compared to those who lose their homes because of real bombs and bullets.
I love my home country and hate the regime that poisoned it.