A year ago, I lived in a world that felt untouched by sorrow, where each day seemed endless in its peace. I walked through life, unaware of the fragile thread that held it all together. How quickly it all unraveled how violently. In the blink of an eye, everything was stolen from us. I had to learn, in the hardest way possible, to be grateful for every breath, every moment, because when the storm hit, there was no warning.
Today, a full year later, Gaza stands like a battered monument to human endurance. But we are not whole. The wounds are still raw. The pain? As fresh as the day it began. 365 days have passed, but those moments of horror remain seared into our minds: the deafening blasts, the choking dust, the screams that pierced the air, the faces of those we couldn’t save. The explosions didn’t just destroy buildings; they carved holes in our hearts. The destruction wasn’t confined to our streets; it became a part of us, part of our daily rhythm like a haunting song we never wanted to hear but can’t stop playing.
For 365 days, we’ve waged a war just to exist. Each day has brought with it new horrors. Fear gnawed at us relentlessly. Hunger twisted our stomachs, left us weak, broken. Thirst? It felt like our throats were on fire, as if even the air was draining life from us. And the betrayal… the betrayal left scars that words cannot describe. Hope was once a lifeline, a thread we clung to but it faded, distant and unreachable. What remained was despair so thick it was suffocating.
How can a human being survive this for an entire year?
We’ve been reduced to living like nomads on our own land. A flimsy tent pitched in the wastelands, offering no protection from the brutal summer sun that scorches our skin, nor from the unforgiving rains that drown us in winter’s icy grip. The ground beneath us never feels solid; it trembles with each nearby explosion. The skies, once a source of light and warmth, now only bring terror. Night after night, drones hover overhead, their cold, mechanical hum a constant reminder that even in the darkness, we are never safe. Basic human dignity is stolen from us. Even the most mundane acts, like seeking water or finding a place to relieve ourselves, become perilous, humiliating endeavors.
How much longer can this war go on?
The months blur together. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since this nightmare began. Time has lost all meaning. The war drags on and on, each day stretching into what feels like eternity. The weight of survival presses down on us with a force that is impossible to describe. Every sunrise feels like the beginning of another endless, hopeless battle. Every sunset, a cruel reminder that tomorrow will be no different. Each day feels like a lifetime of pain, beginning and ending with the same question: Will we make it through another day?
Imagine it standing in the rubble of your home, looking at the world through the eyes of someone condemned to die. You’re not a person anymore. You’re a spectacle. The world watches, but no one reaches out to help. It’s like we’re characters in a tragic movie, playing out scenes of horror and devastation for the rest of the world’s amusement. They watch us suffer, transfixed by the unfolding drama, but they do nothing. They change the channel, move on with their lives, while we’re left to die.
And now, we stand again in the face of annihilation. We have no shields, no weapons just our bodies, exposed to the bombs that rain down like fiery judgment from the heavens. Every night, we wait for the sky to fall. The airstrikes never cease. The sound of jets slicing through the air, the ground quaking beneath our feet, the walls of our homes crumbling around us it feels like the end of the world. With every blast, a piece of our soul is torn away, thrown into the abyss of terror. Every breath is filled with dread. Will this be our last?
We are cornered . There is no escape. Trapped on all sides, with the cold grip of fear clutching our hearts. Each attempt to flee is met with the whirring of drones, their bullets ready to rip us apart. And when, by some miracle, the bombs pause for a brief moment, and silence falls, we pray for a few hours of sleep but even that is stolen from us. The planes never leave. The sky never sleeps, and neither do we.
And then, we turn on the news. Their orders are laced with mockery, demanding we run from one death trap into another. The siege tightens, and the noose draws closer. We are given a choice run, or face the sky. And we know what the sky holds for us: death, raining down without mercy.
Even a graveyard, no matter how vast, couldn’t hold the number of bodies of lives, of hopes, of dreams they’ve taken from us. It’s not just our flesh they’ve buried, but our spirits too.
And still, the killing doesn’t stop. The blood doesn’t dry. And the world? The world stays silent. A silence so loud it drowns out our screams. In that silence, one voice rises splintering through the deafening void:
How could you leave us to be exterminated for an entire year?
Help save my family and me from this brutal war❤️🇵🇸
