Katarina Kirilova

It's not like I don't want to go to Ukraine, but I want to leave. I want to feel safe. And right now, my country can't give me that.

It was my hometown. It was close to the sea. I spent a lot of time at the beach. I had friends there. All my life was there.

Like every 10 minutes, something was just burning down. And yeah, of course it was scary. It was really scary. I had a grandma, but she died during the war. Her house was bombed. I had my apartment in Mariupol, but it also was bombed and burned down.

It was my dog and a backpack. Yeah, that's it.

A few T-shirts, because, yeah, I left Ukraine only with my dog. Because, yeah, my apartment burned down with everything I had, so...

I lived with them for a few, for the first two months. Then I found a job and rented my own place. And I did the right thing, you know, like I worked. I never got any benefits. I paid my taxes.

So right now, like, we're all just waiting, waiting for, I don't know, for something.

Like, I have nothing bad to say about America, but what current government is doing to immigrants, to people who came over here legally, it's cruel to do it to people who doesn't have a place where to go. I feel like I'm being forced to leave.

I was able to survive once and escape. And I'm not sure if I'm going to be lucky enough to do it again. But I don't have much of a choice at this point.

overwhelmed. Because, like, I don't understand what's next, you know? And, like, you have to figure out plan B. Like, the war is still there, and I can't go back to Ukraine. My city is still occupied, so we just But I can't live undocumented here either, so it just... I can tell that you're holding back tears right now. Yeah. It's hard not to have a home, and it's hard to understand that

There's no place where you can go. And to feel safe, at least. I felt like I finally got home. But now I feel like I'm losing it again. And it's hard.