The following is a journal entry from my boyfriend's page... I don't need to elaborate anymore of what he's feeling right now, he does so himself most profoundly in this passage. Please, I implore all of you here who visit my gallery to read this post:

You know, there is such an expression - "Awarded posthumously"?
This is when a person is gone, but the memory of his valor remains.
So, for example, in Ukraine they did with the defenders of the Serpent Island, who sent the message to the Russian ship - to fuck off (thank God turns out - they were just captured) ... but this does not change the essence.

Why am I even writing this?
Because something similar happened to me.
I am posthumously dishonored.

No, I'm not a rich Russian furry artist who, after 2014 (another Russian atrocity), was swimming in money due to the change in the exchange rate.
Who, say, bought several apartments at once with a mortgage and now wipes their snotty nose from tears, complaining to the compassionate American public how the evil uncle Putin destroyed their future.

I'm not even complaining just because I didn't have a future before.
In life, squeezed on the one hand by the miracles of the "free market", and on the other hand by the debts of a dementive family dreaming of the revival of the USSR, there is little room for fantasies about the future.
I don't even complain about that. This filthy family has always poisoned my life.
Who cares.
And what about poverty?... Which is waiting for Russia in the very near future, eh..?
And again - I can not be surprised.

For example, now, taking into account the exchange rate of the ruble and the dollar today, my daily wage is $5.
... And I have to pay half of my monthly salary for debts.
Feel the difference, as they say.

So - nope. I'm not complaining.
I'm used to it.
I was ready to overstrain soon, peacefully lie down to the warm earth.
And accept death without regrets.


But now even that is denied me.

There was a saying in Ancient Egypt: The best thing History can do for you is to forget your name.
The ancient Romans said: He lived his life well who lived it quietly.
I can't count on this anymore.
After all, I'm Russian.
Now this word is forever stained with senseless malice, poisonous hatred and treachery.
Treachery.
Treachery!
And once again treachery!

You do not trust me?
Look around!
The Great Russian Hur-dur-dur Nation rejoices at the pain of Ukraine! Satanic high, like an orgasm!
Not an ounce of empathy.
Not an ounce of humanity.

... The answer to the question "whether the Russians want wars" has been received...


To be Russian now is to be one of the bloodthirsty barbarians.
To be Russian now means to be a servant of the devil, who frankly rejoices in death in a treacherous slaughter.
To be Russian, at the moment, is to be a degenerate, an idiot and a scum.

And in fact it is forever.

Even if I were homeless, and curled up in the snow in the forest, freezing to death - my corpse would not just be the corpse of a nameless person.
Now it is the corpse of a Russian. The corpse of a degenerate and scum.

For the whole world... and especially for a Ukrainian - I am an outsider, I am a stranger. I am the enemy.
... But the greatest irony is that even before the start of the Ukrainian Revolution of Dignity, I hated this country and regime.
And from the very beginning he supported Maidan of Independence - sending money there.
Oh, sorry, not to the Maidan.
"На игрушки".

I experienced sorrows and joys with the Ukrainian people.
I remember the first shock after the Crimean demarche.
I remember how the mayor of one of the southeastern Ukrainian cities was found dead with a cut stomach in a local pond when pro-Russian bandits showed up there.
I remember the first inspired weeks... VK-groups like Kolomoisky broadcasts... or Black men - hunters of green men.
I remember the shock and indignation when the Russians crossed the border...although "there are no Russian troops in Ukraine!" and the Illovai cauldron... when the feeling of shame corroded me like acid.
I remember the message "Do not fly in our sky!" after which Russian saboteurs realized that they shot down a passenger plane.

I remember it all.

But who will believe me.
After all, I'm Russian.
Who cares.
After all, I'm Russian.

And now I am a stranger to my own and a stranger to strangers.
An enemy to one's own and an enemy to one's enemies.
Outcast in the most recent sense of the word.
In the middle of a whole country whose state ideology is fierce xenophobia.

All these Poor Russian Fellas here are now squealing about the fact that their future was stolen from them ... Or they are squealing about the valiant victories of the Russian Weapons against the Ukrainian Nazis (Jesus, seriously?!!) ...
...I don't.

All I wanted was a peaceful death.

But you bastards took it from me.
All of you, Mr. Putin and the rest of the oligarchs and members of "backroom" forums and lodges.
You - officials, bankers, generals and "Russian officers" (there is no creature meaner than a Russian officer! remember this).
And also you - warmongers and just idiots.
I won't forgive you. Never.

Now I can't even rest in peace.
Even my death will be marked by dishonor.

I was a poor but honest man who had his dignity.
Now you've taken the last thing I had.

Now I am not a future nameless corpse that will become fertile land.
Now I'm a rabid Russian dog, worthy only to be shot.


For - now I am dishonored posthumously.