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A young man named Karim, a qualified medical professional in his twenties, hails from Gaza City. Before the recent forced displacement order issued by Israel, he resided in the ruins of his former home with his parents and brothers. He has now been displaced over a dozen times due to the conflict and survived an Israeli strike in southern Gaza. He maintained a diary over the past month.

17 August 2025

Following 24 months, I've abandoned optimism. I doubt the reports about a ceasefire. My father says we must relocate to central Gaza soon, prior to they force us out once more. Were this another group, the United Nations would have stepped in. But for Palestinians, nothing. Now they propose sending us to a troubled African nation – a land torn by civil war, already full of refugees. There are 2 million of us, confined in under 20 square kilometers, just waiting to die slowly. And the world will remain indifferent. A former leader once said, "Maybe we can eventually forgive the Palestinians for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to excuse them for having forced us to end their children's lives." That sums it up. At times, I think the state should be studied by mental health experts – maybe then the global audience would grasp the madness we endure.

18 August 2025

I hitched a lift to Deir al-Balah with a friend – it felt like an act of daring: cars altered to carry extra people, trailers clinging on like lifeboats. You cling tightly with everything you have, because if you fail, you could fall into the open road and be lost.

Close to a central roundabout I saw a "fire belt" – a line of flames across the heavens. Fighter jets carved a line of blasts above Gaza City, in succession; ash clouds ascended and all beneath was obliterated. I tallied five, six rockets – then stopped counting because it seemed pointless. I must locate refuge for my loved ones – an apartment, a garage, whatever space available. My thoughts wander, I forget things, I miss appointments – the turmoil takes them away. All I feel is a tight, small panic and the empty wish that we will still be here the following day.

August 19, 2025

The day before, I at last succeeded to get a garage – 1,500 shekels, approximately 335 pounds a month. That's the most affordable you can find, because need is great while houses and buildings are bombed to the ground. This "shelter" has almost no roof. The owner even offered me a tiny apartment for over $600 – honestly, not even a flat in Dubai costs that much. In wars and crises people become more aggressive, more selfish, eager to profit from others' misery. And perhaps that's "typical", or rather the predictable conduct of a person who has lived through two years of forced displacement, removal, famine – especially inside the biggest open-air jail.

So I started arranging my new home – cleaning, organizing, trying to make it livable. I cannot allow myself even a second to think about my old room prior to the violence, my box-spring bed, my gaming desk, the cooling unit, our house … I cannot let longing to consume me. I just keep moving. Onward, onward – without glancing behind.

August 28, 2025

For a week now I've been without my parents. Despite what my dad said initially, they cling to hope – or to refusal – believing that all the negotiations between the various mediators means Gaza City won't be evacuated. So they refuse to leave. For two years the world has done as it pleases while we drown, and we grasp the tiniest false hopes – the little straws that allow us to survive. The cruel truth is the authorities were never coy about their aims: "We'll annihilate Gaza." They succeeded. "You will be moved." They did. "We'll block supplies." They did. "We'll invade Rafah." All eyes turned there. The American president said no – they did it anyway. What comes next? Gaza City. It will be emptied, become a wasteland like Rafah. I'm taking a few quiet days now – a brief, fragile peace I've deserved.

9 September 2025

My mother and father are finally with me. We turned the garage into a home – rooms, a small personal zone. Naturally the barriers are just plastic tarpaulins. I managed to get online for a moment. It has reached this point: the armed forces released a mandatory evacuation notice for the entire northern region, encompassing the western part. People have no energy, no money, no desire to abandon their houses – numerous individuals would rather die than go out.

This afternoon our neighbor informed us the Israelis attacked Qatar. Oh my god. They have no restraints any more. Qatar – with the largest American military base in the Middle East – was reportedly hit by a power associated with the United States. I believe it's clear what comes next and what it means for Gaza's people: systematic destruction until the last breath. They've been given carte blanche.

September 15, 2025

My mom's special day – another modest observance under inhuman circumstances. The situation relaxed a little, but this is not the existence we were destined for. My phone displayed images from her celebration three years ago: a handmade dessert and my favourite New York cheesecake. I remember giving her Nineteen Eighty-Four by the author – we used it as fuel for bread at the conclusion of that year because we had no gas or wood to cook. How would Orwell feel of us today? I like to imagine he'd forgive us. I dried my eyes in private and continued on. Deir al-Balah is getting more crowded. People are exhausted: they don't want to die, but a lot believe they are already dead.

I grasped my mom's palm, kissed it, and murmured "Happy birthday". She has been sick for days. I penned a note and said sorry because I don't have a penny for a cake (which would be priced at seventy dollars) or any present.

September 21, 2025

Countries like the UK and Australia have acknowledged the Palestinian state as a sovereign entity – why now and for what purpose? Israel keeps attacking us, the atrocities goes on. But currently we can officially die as a recognized nation, we possess sovereignty. What a comfort.

After all this suffering, so many countries that have rejected for nearly two years that the organized eradication of a people was taking place in Gaza are suddenly speaking up. Celebrities and artists join in because it's become mainstream. Previously, people would dismiss and remark, "Unfortunately, I lack knowledge about the Middle East, it's too controversial for me to comment." Two-faced individuals.

September 25, 2025

Identical harsh pattern, day after day – individuals perish from starvation, from debility, from the missiles that continuously fall. A man nearby died recently. Initially I assumed it must have been the usual horror – a attack, a stray bullet. But no. He simply collapsed. His heart stopped. I remain shocked how ordinary his death felt, how rapidly a life can disappear and result in a hollow silence. I was stunned, like I'd been anaesthetised to this kind of loss and abruptly realized.

My day is a map of survival: collect drinking water, {scavenge for