I would like to share with you a very special and joyful memory in my life: the day the results of the Tawjihi (high school final exams in Palestine) were announced. This day represents the outcome of 12 years of hard work and study in Gaza, and it was truly one of the happiest moments of my life.

On the morning of July 20, 2023, I received my results via SMS. I had scored 99.1% in the literary stream and was ranked third in my school in that section. I was overwhelmed with happiness and pride because I had worked so hard to reach that moment.

However, something funny happened that day. My father had accidentally typed my seat number incorrectly and received a message saying I had failed. He was shocked and confused until we discovered the mistake, which gave everyone a laugh in the end.

This memory is meaningful to me because it reminds me that hard work always pays off, and joy often follows long periods of effort. It also shows others that perseverance, even in a place like Gaza with many challenges, can lead to great success.

At the end of that day, we celebrated with a party filled with friends, laughter, and joy. It was a day I will always remember.

Whenever I feel tired or unmotivated, I think back to this day. It gives me the energy to keep going, to study, and to work hard because I know that one day I’ll have more moments like this one to celebrate.

through streets emptied of life.

I fear the rain of rockets above,

and pray my soul won't leave my body.

I walk, hearing a child's cries,

and the hunger echoing from hollow guts. My eyes whisper: you are not alone, though the silence hits me like a stone.

In the middle of this process, the thought -"What am I doing here?"- suddenly popped into on my mind with the sound of non-stop bombing in the background. I pulled myself together and walked down the stairs, under an overwhelming number of drones filled the sky. It was one of the most tense and terrifying nights I have ever witnessed. You could tell that something was about to happen.

It was around 12 p.m. Everyone woke up, waiting for something worse than death. Sounds of shelling, gas bombs, and bullets echoed loudly. We stayed up all night--some praying for a calm morning, others crying. At 6 a.m, the sounds were getting much closer. The storage door was closed so we weren't aware of what was happening around us. As soon as we opened the door, it seemed that almost two-thirds of the refugees had escaped. We were terrified and shocked when we realized that the latest airstrike targeted the western building facing ours. Everyone was running and a heavy smell of blood and death was hanging in the air. Each one was trying to survive with his life, running towards the unknown, as if there was a warm and safe place was waiting to hug them. Martyrs lay along the way and injured people couldn't find someone to hold their empty hands.

There was unforgettable scenes that I couldn't delete from my heart and mind. A crying man was running while carrying the body of a baby covered with blood. She looked as though she were sleeping in peace. Another man was on the ground suffering from injury in his leg while begging anyone to hold his hand and help him lean on their shoulder, but unfortunately, everyone was too consumed by fear, thinking only of saving themselves.

I can learn hundreds of lessons from this heartbreaking experience, but the most powerful one was the disgusting realization of this unjust, hypocritical world preaches human rights on screen but abandons us in reality.

In the attached picture, my mother and I were running towards AL-Yemen-AL-Saeed Medical Complex , which its construction wasn't yet completed. While running, we realized that the bombs had been around us all night. Our neighbors' homes were destroyed and I remember a burning car in the middle of the road.

How can I possibly erase this from my heart?