I never imagined that one day I’d leave my home with nothing but a small suitcase and no clear idea of where I was going. I was 19 when the war started, and everything changed. I’m from Zaporizhzhia, a city close to the front line. My parents didn’t want me to witness the fear, the sirens, the explosions, and the war that unfolded in our city. They wanted me to be safe. I’m their only child. So they made a decision: to send me away. Alone. To a place I once dreamed of visiting — the Netherlands.
Before the war, I had met some Dutch people by chance, and I remember how warm and kind they were. I was fascinated by their stories and curious about life in the Netherlands. Back then, I thought: maybe someday I’ll go there. I never imagined that “someday” would come in the form of fleeing a war.
The journey was long and exhausting — it took me about a week to reach the Netherlands. Just getting to the border was incredibly difficult, as so many people were trying to escape my city. Trains were completely overcrowded — if you found a seat, you were lucky. Many people had to sleep on the floor or stand for hours. I didn’t know where I would end up. I was just a teenager, traveling into the unknown with a small backpack and a suitcase, hoping I would be safe somewhere on the other side.
When I finally arrived in the Netherlands, something unexpected happened. I met a Dutch family who welcomed me into their home — and into their lives. I stayed with them for a while, and to this day, they are like a second family to me. Their kindness, support, and calm presence helped me through one of the hardest times of my life.
Starting over in a new country wasn’t easy. I had to grow up quickly. I continued studying online, learned how to navigate life independently, and began to build a new circle of friends. I had always lived under the care of my parents — and now, suddenly, I had to stand on my own.
Even now, I miss my family deeply. I’ve been able to visit home, but those visits are rare — only three times in the past few years, and always for a short time. One of the hardest parts is knowing that my grandmother still lives in an occupied area. I haven’t seen her in years. I constantly worry about her, and about my parents. No matter how far I go, my heart remains with them.
When I return to my hometown, I see how life there has gone on without me — despite the danger, the war, and the fear, people continue to live. But I’m no longer part of that daily life. I feel like a guest now. People are kind and welcoming, but things have changed. I’ve changed too.
The day you start living in another country, you are no longer a tourist or a traveller, but you are not a native either. You become something in between. That’s where I find myself now — somewhere between two worlds, carrying both in my heart.