Kyiv, Ukraine. It is yet another Russian bombardment. My friend Nastya is awake and running down into the bomb shelter at 3 am. Again. In just a couple of hours, sleep-deprived, she will be sitting at the desk as if it’s normal day. Only 4 months ago she participated in an extremely competitive selection process which made the education financially feasible for her. During the two former years, in spite of ceaseless airstrike sirens and a constant anxiety, she had been studying – relentlessly. And her hopes paid off – she earned a scholarship to study in an Architectural college in Kyiv. Even so, there was a price to be paid – more intense airstrikes and even less security. Like this, without much sleep, and amidst this overwhelming chaos, she has completed 2 months of her studies. Nastya followed this path because she knew – this might be her only chance, a morbid one, but a chance for a better future. Her example is a constant reminder of how absurdly fortunate I am. What if a person like her had opportunities like me? In some disturbing sense, wars are necessary to cultivate people that are going to grit their teeth. Comfort kills. Struggling is just another word for being alive.