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My mom once told me people liked me more than I thought.

I didn’t believe her. I didn’t understand how.

But when I thought about other people, I only ever saw good things.

I saw the way the boy in my math class frowned at a problem, his brow knitting in concentration, and I imagined the pride he would feel when he solved it.

I noticed the quiet girl who always carried too many books, and I wondered how heavy her thoughts might be, and how carefully she must navigate the world.

I saw the kindness in everyone before they even knew I was watching.

To be Ukrainian is to carry centuries of struggle

and still sing

It is to plant wheat in fields once burned

to rebuild homes from ashes

to hold faith that tomorrow will bloom

I love that in me lives this strength

I do love myself

But it’s hard some of the time

Still I carry on

It's okay to not have all the answers, and it's okay to want to know more! Ask questions here, and have a civil and respectful conversation with people :)

People get it wrong all the time, the stigma is so real, but sometimes we wish we could change things...this is your place to talk about it!

Sometimes, we just need a place to respectfully crash out and lose our minds before going back to being functioning members of society

I’ve been writing poetry for four years now, and yet this piece somehow manages to be the one closest to my heart. It expresses how no matter how hard you fight for something, if you don’t allow yourself to be vulnerable or allow yourself to be weak, you’re going to end up breaking down anyways no matter the defenses you have up. I’ve struggled with vulnerability myself my whole life, and I used to only show cracks of my weakness through humor, but I’m slowly learning how to open up to others and I hope this piece inspires people to do the same.

I don’t remember where this bruise came from,

it couldn’t have been from

bleeding myself out, I promise

that I’ve never done that

it couldn’t have been from

clenching my fists, I swear