"Letter to Europe" by Taisiia Shustova

Hello, Europe!

Today is 16 April. It is around three o'clock in the morning, and I am beginning to write this letter to you while sitting in the corridor, as explosions from ballistic missiles can be heard outside my window. In a few hours I will go to school, sleep-deprived yet full of enthusiasm, because today's classes include the history of Ukraine, my favourite subject. We also have civic education, where we have just begun studying democracy – your greatest value.

You know, it is a little ironic: learning about freedom, equality, and human rights while sitting on the cold floor of a corridor. Yet it is precisely here that I understand best what these words truly mean. Not as definitions in a textbook, but as something people must fight for every single day.

I want to tell you about my life and my country. About the challenges we face and what it means to be Ukrainian in 2026.

Ukraine is a country where people know how to stand by one another even in the darkest times. It is morning coffee after a sleepless night filled with the sound of air-raid warnings. It is children studying in shelters while still dreaming of becoming doctors, diplomats, and artists. It is volunteers who, within a few hours, can collect aid for people they do not even know personally. It is teachers who continue explaining difficult subjects even when it is dangerous outside.

Ukraine is also about dignity. Perhaps you remember how many years ago Ukrainians took to the squares to defend their right to choose their own future. And it was not only about politics – it was about values, about choosing to be part of a world where people, their freedom, and their voices are respected.

And this is where our European integration begins. It is not only about documents, reforms, or political decisions. It is about internal change. About how we are gradually building a society where the law matters more than connections, where human rights are not a formality but a reality, where everyone has a chance to be heard.

We want to become closer to you not simply because it is "more beneficial" for us, but because we share these values. We want to live in a place where honesty matters, where borders are not barriers but opportunities, where cooperation is stronger than fear.

I remember once travelling to Prague. It should have been about lightness, new streets, beautiful architecture, a different life at least for a few days – but it turned out differently. When I heard loud sounds – sharp signals, rumbling noises, even the sound of aircraft – a wave of panic rose inside me. Not joy, not excitement, which I should have felt upon arriving in a new city and country, but anxiety that turned into a complete breakdown. My body could not believe that I was safe, that civilian aircraft flew there and drones did not. It was still living in a reality where any loud sound could mean danger. And then I understood: war is not only what happens around you. It remains inside you, even when it is no longer nearby.

Nevertheless, I want you to understand that Ukraine's European integration is not only about the aspiration to become an "official" part of the European Union. It is also about contributing to it. We bring with us a resilience that is not taught in schools. We know what it means to defend freedom not only with words. We know how to value simple things – silence, electricity and running water at home, the ability to plan for tomorrow.

Perhaps we are not perfect yet. Of course, we have problems that require solutions, some urgently. We have mistakes we are still correcting. But you see, we are not standing still with folded arms – we are moving forward. And most importantly, we are not stopping.

Sometimes it seems to me that we are growing up faster than we can even realise, and every Ukrainian child and teenager could confirm my words. War forced us to grow up far too early. It forced us to worry not only about our own safety but also about the safety of our loved ones. Yet at the same time it did not take away our dream. And this dream is very simple: to live in a country where night is simply night – perhaps with thunder or rain – and not sitting in a corridor to the sound of sirens and explosions. Where the word "security" does not sound like a luxury. Where the future is something that can be planned, not merely imagined.

I am writing this letter to you not as a request and not as a demand. I am writing it as a story, as an attempt to be heard. As a reminder that we are close not only geographically, but also ideologically.

Perhaps one day I will write you another letter – not from a corridor under the sound of explosions, but from a quiet morning where the loudest sound is a city waking up.

And then I will tell you not about war, but about real Ukrainian peaceful life, the kind we have not seen for so long.

Until we meet again, Europe.

Sincerely, with faith that Ukraine and its people will grow closer to you,

Taisiia Shustova