I woke up not so long ago. Unfortunately, my morning didn’t start with coffee. It started with a friend of mine sending a photo of what used to be our school. It had been affected by a bomb that fell nearby last night. Thankfully, it wasn’t hit directly, but seeing the photographs makes me want to cry.
I was never fond of my school, as most students usually are. I graduated last year and haven’t really looked back on it after I started university. I don’t remember my school years being very fun, like grown-ups told me they’d be. But right now, seeing that photo of the front of my former school with its’ windows broken and rubble all over the street, I can’t help but feel heartbroken. Why is this happening?
I don’t talk to much people around except for a few friends I’ve made at school. We still see each other, and have a drink every now and then after the classes at uni and the work shifts are over. We have fun and go to the occasional gig. Well, it was like that before the war… As I’ve mentioned earlier we’re scattered all over Europe now. Everyone’s got their own anxieties about moving to a completely new city or country and we don’t have much time to talk to each other. The war made us drift apart, and now it also destroyed the place we all met at. To me it feels devastating.
I don’t know what to do today. I feel powerless and I feel sick… I’d go volunteering again otherwise. But I keep having panic attacks. Over and over again.
I’ll write back in the evening. Even though I don’t think I’m up to much today.