Paralyzes. Keeps you from moving forward.

Constrains your breath, your thoughts, your muscles.

 

I have known many fears.

 

Childhood fears… I barely remember them now. What I feared and how — erased.

Only the feeling remains.

 

The fear of punishment for wrongdoing.

Bad grades — yes, that happened. And I always dragged it out until the very last moment.

 

Then another fear appeared — stranger, harder to explain.

The fear of rejection.

 

You know… I liked a girl, but I was afraid to speak to her.

Maybe I wasn’t good enough for her.

Maybe she’d call me an idiot…

 

I watched other boys — chatting easily, making friends, visiting each other…

And I would immediately blush and lose all control of myself.

 

Unless I was with a friend who knew how to connect with people effortlessly.

 

And when friendship with a girl finally began, a new fear awoke —

that she would leave, and I would be alone again.

And no one would ever accept me again.

 

I was afraid of dog bites.

Some dogs are friendly right away, while others seem to wait only for the right moment to attack.

 

The unknown was frightening —

whether the one before you was friend or enemy.

 

Sometimes I revealed my fears.

I was ashamed of my cowardice when I ran as fast as I could, leaving my friends and their fate behind me.

 

And the fear of losing family and loved ones…

That is a separate story altogether.

 

Again and again, I replayed those events in my mind,

and I could not imagine life continuing after they were gone.

 

No, I fought fear.

Without understanding how, I tried to do things that seemed dangerous.

I crossed boundaries.

 

But I could never understand the very moment of overcoming it.

 

Maybe that is why I wanted to be close to warriors — descendants of the legendary bogatyrs.

I thought: if I join their ranks, fear will disappear.

On its own.

 

Just from the sight of a brave soldier.

 

And girls would fall at my feet…

Everyone loves the fearless.

 

And my parents would finally treat me with respect…

Listen to me. Understand me.

 

Yeah. Right.

 

Fear does not care whom it inhabits —

a naïve boy or a hardened warrior.

 

It conquers the one who looks only at it

and thinks only about it.

 

And yet, on a cool summer morning,

I found myself standing among young cadets.

 

The chill crept beneath my uniform

and tickled the body wrapped in a striped undershirt.

 

Pride swelled inside me.

After all, I was among the elite.

 

Together, in one loud voice, we greeted our commanders,

shouted “Hurrah!”, sang songs,

and filled the parade ground with the sharp rhythmic thunder of marching feet.

 

And in the morning — reveille!

 

Again the rumble of boots filled the narrow streets of the ancient town,

echoing off the cobblestones and grim fortress walls,

making the windows of the small, earth-sunken houses rattle.

 

It rose into the sky —

up to the domes of churches crowned with delicate golden crosses,

mixing with the ringing of morning bells.

 

The ordinary routine of military training.

 

At first, it seems like any other craft.

But the better I mastered it,

the clearer I understood: there is one crucial difference.

 

If the success of other professions means reliable shelter,

warm crusty bread,

the grateful smile of a saved life,

 

then our success

is to preserve and protect all of that,

sometimes by striking devastating blows against the enemy

and sowing death among their ranks.

 

And once again — fear.

 

The fear of becoming a merciless executioner.

The fear of ending innocent lives.

The fear of mistakes that lead to the deaths of your own people.

 

And again that crushing feeling

when you think about how to live without those

with whom you shared bread, shelter, and warmth.

 

Once I asked:

 

— What is it like to lose the people closest to you? The ones most loyal to you?

 

And this was the answer:

 

It hurts terribly.

The first time. And the second. And the third.

 

You want to turn back time —

one minute, one second —

to preserve them.

 

But then comes the understanding:

death is the one thing

that cannot be undone, corrected, or delayed.

 

It comes

and remains. Forever.

 

Then you want to honor those it has taken.

Wash them. Gather them piece by piece.

Prepare them for their long sleep.

Dress them carefully and return them to the earth.

 

But then there would be no time left for life.

 

So you do only what you have time for.

Sometimes — you simply close unmoving eyes.

Sometimes — you look, so you will remember forever.

 

And you will remember forever.

 

Then you leave. Quickly.

Saving yourself and the others who are still alive.

Raising prayers to heaven

for help for yourself

and peace for those who are gone.

 

It is terrifying.

 

And it will not pass.

You do not grow used to it.

 

It will remain with you until your final days.

And perhaps even after them.

 

But the most important thing you must learn

is to act.

 

And to keep living with it.

 

Only then will the fear living beside you

lose all power over you.

 

———

 

And now — I stare into the darkness…

 

How is he doing in there?

Did he make it?

And will he have the strength to turn back?

 

Footsteps?..

 

No.

Just my imagination.