My home was in Ukraine, in the Donetsk region. Memories about my Ukrainian school remain warm almost like they were from another life. I can still recall December 2021, right before New Year’s Eve—our family preparing for the holiday, my father hanging a beautiful light in my room. I remember lying on the snow in the park with my fair-haired best friend, gazing at the evening sky, weaving dreams about our futures. I wanted to become a doctor; she aspired to join the police force.

But fate didn’t allow us to keep dreaming. By February 2022, while living peacefully in Mariupol, the inevitable found us. In a blink, the comforts we take for granted—loving parents, dear friends, a warm home, food on the table—were torn away. February 24, 2022, came crashing down on all Ukrainians, altering every life it touched.

War stripped away the world I knew, leaving behind only pain, loss, and suffering. It showed me the true agony of human existence: death, deprivation, and fear. Yet it also left me with a profound truth—what I despise most in this world is human suffering. It doesn’t matter what nationality a person has, the weight of someone else’s pain is unbearable for me to witness.

The war awakened empathy in me. It stirred something deep in my soul, a desire to help. But that awakening came with unimaginable heartbreak. The death of loved ones and friends is the most excruciating experience I’ve ever endured. My best friend—the girl who dreamed of protecting others and giving back to society—didn’t survive. This loss changed me forever. If I must lose every possession I own, I’m ready to give away whatever it takes if it means no one else has to endure such pain.

2022 brought not only tragedy but also a path to survival. That spring, my parents made the difficult decision to send me to Poland for my safety. They took me to Sandomierz, and my mother stayed only a few days before leaving me in the care of a kind Polish man named Mr. Andrzej. For reasons beyond her control, she had to return to Ukraine, though not to our home.

I was left with a monumental challenge: to learn Polish from scratch, finish middle school, pass my exams, and enroll in the Polish equivalent of high school. I was only 15 years old and felt as though I’d been pushed out of the nest, flung into the air without my wings fully formed. I could either learn to fly fast or hit the ground hard.

Despite the fear that lived inside me, I knew I couldn’t let my mother down. Her struggle was far greater than mine, and that gave me strength. Within a month and a half—and with the invaluable support of my Polish teachers—I managed to raise my proficiency in Polish enough to pass the exams alongside native speakers.

Choosing to enroll in the medical program at Collegium Gostomianum became my calling. It was a decision that brought me purpose. Immersing myself in studies became my refuge, a way to cope with my circumstances, stay optimistic, and overcome the overwhelming challenges that had been thrust upon me.

Through this escape into learning, I began to thrive. Academic achievements followed: I discovered a talent for languages, winning prizes in Polish language competitions. I found joy in helping classmates understand difficult material. My love for the natural sciences deepened, and I became comfortable speaking in front of audiences.

But my journey didn’t end in Poland. In May 2024, I moved to the United States, ready to embrace a new world, learn unfamiliar subjects, and prepare for the next chapter of my life.

In April of 2025 I was accepted to FIU, and now I am asking for financial help that can help me achieve my dreams.

Thank you!