Four years

You finally noticed the war? Or did you just finally realize that the war might notice you? On comfort, responsibility, and leaving only when it's your turn.

September 28, 2026·3 MIN

A latte and passport on a cafe table, with a packed suitcase beside a window overlooking a dark city.

Four years.

You stayed there for four fucking years.

You could have left.

You didn't.

Because you were fine.

A war?

Well, a war.

People getting killed?

Shit happens.

Someone got mobilized?

Wasn't you.

Someone got thrown in prison?

Wasn't you either.

You worked.

Got paid.

Paid taxes.

Went to restaurants.

Made plans.

Bought apartments.

Drank your fucking pumpkin matcha lattes at Patriarch's Ponds.

And life was still good enough to stay.

Four years.

And now people are talking about mobilization again.

And suddenly:

“We need to get the fuck out.”

Really?

Seriously?

You finally noticed the war?

Or did you just finally realize that the war might notice you?

And please don't start telling everyone how you've been against all of this the entire time.

I don't give a fuck what you supposedly felt inside.

I care about what you did.

And what you did was exactly fuck all.

As long as someone else was paying the price.

Someone else's home.

Someone else's life.

Someone else's children.

Someone else's mobilization.

Someone else's prison cell.

None of that was enough to get your ass moving.

But the possibility of getting your own draft notice?

Suddenly that's enough.

What an incredible fucking coincidence.

An unmarked envelope lies beneath a luxurious apartment door in a dim corridor.

And you know what?

Part of me wishes the borders had been closed to people like you.

Yes.

Because as far as I'm concerned, if you had the means to leave this system but consciously chose to spend four years living in it, working in it, and funding it through your taxes, you don't suddenly become uninvolved just because now you're scared for your own skin.

Leaving Russia doesn't erase your responsibility for those four years.

Not the same responsibility as the person pulling the trigger.

Not the same responsibility as the person giving the order.

But your favorite little fairy tale of “I had absolutely nothing to do with any of this” can fuck right off too.

You were there.

You could have left.

You chose to stay.

And now you're moving to other countries.

And that's the part that pisses me off even more.

Because people already live there who left in 2022.

Or earlier.

Some left back in 2014.

They spent years building new lives.

Learning languages.

Dealing with paperwork.

Finding jobs.

Paying for relocation.

Giving up the lives they knew.

Because they decided they no longer wanted to stay.

And now you show up.

Another wave of “I'm not political.”

And locals look at all of us the same way.

Who cares when you left?

Who cares why?

Another Russian just showed up.

Thanks a fucking lot.

People who left years ago now have to explain all over again that no, they didn't come here to wait out another mobilization scare.

Because of people like you, suspicion falls on everyone.

A half-packed suitcase stands beside an untouched bed in an anonymous rented room.

And the funniest part?

I'm almost certain plenty of you still haven't actually decided shit.

You didn't come to build a new life.

You came to wait it out.

Just like last time.

Three months.

Four.

Watch what happens.

Read the news.

Make sure nobody is coming for you yet.

And then go back.

To Moscow.

Back home.

Back to Patriarch's Ponds.

Back to your fucking latte.

Until next time.

And then you'll be posting again:

“Guys, where can I move quickly right now?”

Nowhere, fuckers.

The only place you're headed is the morgue.