For the next two days, we hardly went outside. The enemy intensified the shelling of the city, and we could hear explosions almost every hour. I knew that shells were falling on Saltivka (the largest residential area in Kharkiv, where we live) because after each hit, the basement doors trembled as if they were made of paper. Sometimes it seemed like they wouldn't hold up and would just collapse inward. I could never imagine how difficult it is for a person to live without sunlight. A regular electric light bulb cannot replace it. With each passing day, it becomes more irritating. Yes, you're not in complete darkness, and that's good. But our eyes are meant to see the day. Without it, you gradually lose your sanity. You fall asleep and wake up in artificial light. And after a while, you begin to think that it will be like this forever. You chase such thoughts, but they become more and more intrusive. And eventually, you find yourself trapped by them. You can no longer dream and believe in something good. You're just waiting for your time. When a new enemy shell hits, the ceiling light bulb starts flickering, and dust flies off the walls. The mind needs a break from all of this. And at some point, you start forgetting about the instinct of self-preservation. You're willing to do anything just to breathe fresh air and see daylight for a couple of minutes. Therefore, despite the danger, we still started going out to the yard. It can hardly be called a walk. We simply stood near the entrance to the basement. And it only lasted a few minutes. But those minutes were necessary to keep from losing our minds amidst the gray walls. At some point, the need for these moments outdoors becomes especially critical. The semi-darkness starts squeezing your chest, your mind loses control of your body, and a hysterical attack occurs. But you can't allow it to manifest. There are many people around you, and most importantly, there are children among you. Children who are already scared enough. So, you simply disregard your own safety and go outside.
I remember one such occasion when my mind first started to fail to respond adequately to everything that was happening. I went outside and stood by the entrance to the basement for a few minutes. I greedily gulped in the fresh, frosty air, and tears rolled down my cheeks. They say men don't cry. In that moment, I proved the opposite. But no one saw my tears. I needed to release the pain that had taken hold of me, even if just for a minute. And I succeeded. It was as if I rebooted myself and became ready to face life under bombardment again. Although, in reality, it is impossible to be ready for it. You can only muster patience and suppress your true emotions to prevent panic. And I wasn't alone in the desire to see daylight, even for a moment. One by one, people started peering out from the basement. Some would step outside for a few seconds and immediately take cover after another explosion. Some stood and smoked despite the horrifying sounds of shells. Everyone reacted differently. But we were united in our emotional state.
February 28, 2022 - that's the date of our second birthday. It's the day when three "Smerch" rockets landed just a few meters from our house. And, fortunately for us, they didn't detonate. I will never forget that sound, resembling the thunder of unimaginable power. The walls and floor trembled with it. I vividly remember how everyone in the basement fell silent for several minutes. My little nephew, with whom I was talking while sitting next to each other, clung to me. After a while, he got bored and lay down on the floor. Shortly after that, a terrified neighbor rushed into the basement. The thing is, he had just taken his dog out for a walk when the Russian "Smerch" rockets landed in our yard. He showed us smeared photos taken in a hurry. A chill ran down my spine from what I saw. Several-meter-long projectiles protruded from the ground near the house. One of them nearly hit a garbage bin, another was right in the middle of the yard, and the third one was near the school, under the windows of my apartment. It was evident that the Russians were aiming at the school. From the early days, educational institutions became one of the main targets of the enemy. Thanks to higher forces, the "Smerch" didn't detonate. Something went wrong, and they simply embedded deep into the ground. If those shells had exploded that day, I would never have been able to write about it.
After realizing our luck, all the men spent a long time smoking in the other half of the basement (where there were no people). I remember vividly how we started engaging in lively conversations. After such stress, our bodies needed release, and we found it in conversations. We even began telling jokes and laughing loudly. It was a phenomenal discovery for me personally. But we were happy for the first time. We were still living in the basement, still not seeing sunlight, and hardly breathing fresh air. Yet the fact that we were still alive somehow opened up a second wind for everyone. Yes, it didn't last very long, but it gave us hope. I think we all held one thought in our minds at that time - since we were still on this earth, we had to survive.