Why don’t I wear a suit? Because this is my suit. This is my armor, my shield, my second skin. This is what keeps me alive. A suit is for comfort, for luxury, for halls of power where words hold weight. But here, in the trenches, on the battlefield, words are nothing without action. Here, fabric means survival. This uniform torn, dirtied, worn from the fight is more than just clothing. It is a statement. A symbol of resistance. A mark of defiance against those who seek to erase us.
Every thread is woven with sacrifice. Every scratch, every stain tells a story of the struggle for freedom. The weight of this gear is the weight of responsibility to my brothers and sisters in arms, to my family, to my homeland. A suit is made for negotiation, for diplomacy, for peace. But peace is not given. It is fought for. It is bled for. And until that peace is won, this will remain my suit.
This is not just about Ukraine. This is about all of us about the right to exist, the right to live freely, the right to choose our own path. This war is not just ours it is a battle for the future of Europe, for the future of democracy, for the future of a world where tyranny does not dictate borders and freedom is not just a word but a reality.
So no, I do not wear a suit. I wear this. Because this is what stands between life and death, between occupation and liberation, between silence and the roar of a people who refuse to be conquered. This is my suit. This is my fight. And I will wear it until the last battle is won.