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A young man named Karim, a trained nurse in his early 20s, is originally from the heart of Gaza. Until the latest forced displacement order from Israeli authorities, he resided amid the destruction of his family house alongside his mother, father, and siblings. He has been forced to move 13 times due to the war and escaped an aerial bombardment in southern Gaza. He kept a journal over the past month.

17 August 2025

After two years, I've abandoned optimism. I doubt the news about a ceasefire. My dad says we should move to Deir al-Balah quickly, prior to they evict us again. Were this another group, the UN would have stepped in. But for us, nothing. Now they propose sending us to a troubled African nation – a land torn by internal conflict, already full of displaced people. There are 2 million of us, trapped in under 20 square kilometers, just facing gradual death. And the world will remain indifferent. An ex-prime minister remarked, "We will perhaps eventually pardon the Arabs 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 says it all. Sometimes, I think the state should be studied by mental health experts – perhaps then the world would finally understand the insanity we live under.

August 18, 2025

I caught a ride to the central area with a acquaintance – it seemed like an act of daring: vehicles modified to transport more passengers, attached carts like rescue vessels. You hold on with all your strength, because if you don't, you could fall into the open road and be left behind.

Near a central roundabout I saw a "hizam nari" – a ribbon of fire across the sky. Fighter jets created a trail of blasts above Gaza City, in succession; smoke plumes ascended and everything below them was erased. I counted several missiles – then gave up counting because counting felt useless. I must locate shelter for my loved ones – an flat, a garage, whatever space available. My thoughts wander, I forget things, I forget plans – the turmoil steals them. All I feel is a constant anxiety and the hollow hope that we will survive the next day.

August 19, 2025

The day before, I at last succeeded to get a storage space – 1,500 shekels, about £335 a month. That's the cheapest you can locate, because demand is high while homes and structures are bombed to the ground. This "garage" has almost no roof. The owner even proposed a small flat for 2,500 shekels – frankly, not even a flat in the UAE costs that much. In conflicts and emergencies people grow hostile, self-centered, looking to benefit from the suffering of others. And maybe that's "normal", or instead the expected behaviour of a person who has lived through two years of forced displacement, removal, famine – particularly inside the world's largest prison.

So I began setting up my new home – cleaning, organizing, trying to make it livable. I must not permit even a moment to reflect on my old room before the genocide, my comfortable mattress, my gaming desk, the cooling unit, our house … I cannot let longing to consume me. I just keep moving. Onward, onward – never looking back.

August 28, 2025

For a week now I've been without my parents. Regardless of what my dad first stated, they cling to hope – or to denial – thinking that all the back-and-forth between the Qataris, Americans, Egyptians and Israelis means Gaza City will not be emptied. So they decline to move. For 24 months the world has acted arbitrarily while we suffer, and we grasp the smallest, most obvious lies – the little straws that keep us breathing. The harsh reality is the authorities were never coy about their objectives: "We will destroy Gaza." They succeeded. "We will resettle you." They accomplished that. "We'll block supplies." They implemented that. "We'll invade Rafah." All eyes turned there. The American president objected – they did it anyway. What's the next step? Gaza City. It will be cleared, become a wasteland like Rafah. I'm taking a few quiet days now – a temporary calm I've deserved.

9 September 2025

My mother and father are at last with me. We turned the garage into a dwelling – areas, a little private space. Of course the walls are just vinyl sheets. I managed to get online for a short time. It has reached this point: the military released a mandatory evacuation notice for all of Gaza City, including the west side. People have no energy, no money, no will to abandon their houses – many would prefer death than go out.

This day our neighbour told us the forces attacked Qatar. Oh my god. They have no limits now. Qatar – with the largest American military base in the Middle East – was allegedly struck by a power allied with the US. I think it's clear what follows and what it means for Gaza's people: genocide to the very end. They've been given carte blanche.

September 15, 2025

My mom's special day – another modest observance under inhuman circumstances. Things have eased a bit, but this is not the life we were destined for. My phone showed me images from her birthday in 2022: a handmade dessert and my favourite American treat. I recall presenting her 1984 by George Orwell – we used it as fuel for bread at the end of 2023 because we had no gas or wood to bake. How would the writer feel of us now? I prefer to think he'd understand our actions. I wiped my tears in private and continued on. Deir al-Balah is getting fuller and fuller. People are worn out: they don't want to die, but many believe they are already dead.

I grasped my mom's palm, touched it lovingly, and murmured "Best wishes". She has been unwell for days. I wrote her a letter and said sorry because I lack a penny for a cake (which would be priced at seventy dollars) or even a small gift.

21 September 2025

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

Following immense hardship, numerous nations that have rejected for nearly two years that the systematic destruction of a people was occurring in the territory are suddenly speaking up. Celebrities and artists join in because it's become mainstream. Before, people would shrug and say, "Unfortunately, I don't know enough about the region, it's too controversial for me to speak." Hypocrites.

September 25, 2025

Identical harsh pattern, day after day – individuals perish from starvation, from debility, from the missiles that continuously fall. A individual not far from us died recently. Initially I thought it must have been the usual horror – a raid, a stray bullet. But no. He simply collapsed. His life ended. I still can't believe how ordinary his death felt, how quickly a life can vanish and leave only a empty quiet. I was numbed, 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