I was thinking about writing a will.

I did not expect to feel death near me. I used to say that death suddenly comes, and we do not feel it, but during this war, we made us feel everything … slowly.

We suffer before this happens, such as expecting to bomb your home.

It has still exists since the beginning of the war, but this feeling of fear is still inside you. I wore this fear my heart, so I feel that he could not deal with anything more.

Since the beginning of the war, I have been suffering from our proximity to the Israeli army. I remember the moment I entered the tanks from the Netzarim area, and I sent a message to all my friends, shocked: “How did they enter Gaza? Do I dream?!”

I was waiting for them to withdraw from Gaza, to be free again, as we always knew that. Now they are very close to my place, in Al -Fakhari, east of Khan Yunis and north of Rafah. It is the point where Khan Yunis ends and begins his shelf.

They are very close, forcing us to hear terrifying explosions at every moment, which makes us bear those endless sounds.

This war is different, completely different from what you had previously passed.

Remember my story

I don’t want to be a number.

This has been stuck in my head since I saw the martyrs referred to as “unknown persons” or put in mass graves. Some even the parts of the body that cannot be determined.

Is it possible that everything he says on the shroud would be a “young woman in a black/blue blouse”?

Can I die as an unknown person, just number?

I want everyone around me to remember my story. I am not a number.

I am the girl who studied for high school and university schools under exceptional circumstances when Gaza was under a very narrow siege. I completed the university and searched for work everywhere to help my father, who exhausted the siege and lost his job several times.

I am the eldest daughter in my family, and I wanted to help my father and have a good house to live in.

Wait … I don’t want to forget anything.

I am a refugee. My grandparents were refugees forced by the Israeli occupation to leave our occupied land in 1948.

They moved to the Gaza Strip and lived in the Khan Yunis camp for refugees, west of the city.

I was born in this camp, but the Israeli army did not allow me to continue in my life there.

They demolished our house in 2000, and we left homeless for two years. We moved from an unbalanced house to another, until UNRWA gave us another house in 2003 in Al -Fothari.

This wonderful area, with all agricultural lands, where we tried to build life in the neighborhood that was called “European housing”, after the European Hospital is located there.

The house was small, not enough for a five -year family, with a father and mother. I needed additional rooms, a living room and a kitchen that needs to be done.

We lived there for 12 years anyway, and as soon as I could work, I started working around 2015 to help my father.

It helped him make the house comfortable to live in it. Yes, we achieved it, but it was very difficult. We finished building our house only three months ago from October 7, 2023.

Yes, I spent nearly 10 years to rebuild it as a piece according to our financial ability, and we only managed to end it just before the war.

When the war came, I was already exhausted, from the siege and the difficulty of life in Gaza. Then the war came to completely drain me, wear my heart and make me lose my focus.

Wake up running

Since the beginning of the war, we have been fighting for something.

Fighting for survival, fighting does not die from hunger or thirst, fighting even to lose our minds from the atrocities that we are witnessing and testing.

We try to survive by any means. We went through the displacement – in my life, I lived in four houses, and every house ended near the bombing by the Israeli army.

We do not have a safe place. Before the ceasefire, we lived 500 days of massive terrorism.

What I did not do during the war, unfortunately, was crying. I tried to stay strong and kept my grief and anger inside, which led to the exhaustion and weakest of my heart.

I was positive and supportive to everyone around me. Yes, people will return from the north. Yes, the army will withdraw from Netzarim. I wanted to give everyone strength, while there was weakness inside me I did not want to show it.

I felt that if he showed it, I will qualify you in this terrifying war.

The ceasefire was my great hope to survive. I felt as if I made it. The war ended.

When people asked, “Will the war return?” I answered him with confidence, “No, I don’t think it will. The war has ended.”

The war returned, and closer to me. I lived the constant fear brought by the endless bombing. They used every type of weapon against us – missiles and shells of aircraft and tanks. The tanks continued to shoot, the drones continued to monitor. Everything was terrifying.

I really didn’t sleep for more than a week. If you get rid of, wake up from the sound of the explosions and wake up. I don’t know where to go, but I run across the house.

In constant panic, I put my hand on my heart, I wonder if it will meet much more.

For this reason I sent a message to all my friends, and I ask them to talk about my story so that I am not just a number.

We live within unbearable days as the neighboring Israeli army destroys around me. There are still many families who still live here. They do not want to leave because the displacement is exhausting – physically, financially and mentally.

The first displacement that I remember was the displacement in 2000, when I was about eight years old.

The Israeli army bulldozers entered the Khan Yunis camp and destroyed my uncle Wajdi’s house. Then, for some reason, they stopped in our house.

So we left. Ramadan was, and my parents imagined that we could come back later. They found a dilapidated shell from our house to be temporarily, they believed.

I couldn’t have the idea that we lost our house, so I was going back to the house where all those beautiful memories were with my grandparents, and I would get some things to return to my mother.

The Israeli army demolished our house the night before Eid, and my family and I went there on the first day of Eid Al -Fitr. I remember celebrating the holiday on the rubble, and wearing new Eid clothes.

The Israeli army does not allow us to keep anything; It destroys everything, and only grief leaves us in our hearts.

I do not know what the future hides if the world does not save us from this terrifying army.

I don’t know if my heart will bear these endless voices anymore. Never forget me.

I fought strongly for my life. I worked hard, as a 10 -year journalist and teacher, and I devote myself.

I have students who love them and their colleagues have beautiful memories.

Life in Gaza was never easy, but we love it, and we cannot love any other home.