The world has left us alone in Gaza… left us to face a fate far beyond human endurance, until we lost hope of living a dignified, normal life like everyone else.

Hello, my name is Osama. I am 22 years old and I live in Gaza. I never imagined I would reach this level of exhaustion and collapse. But war takes everything from you in an instant: your home, your safety, your childhood, and even the simplest dreams you once built your future upon.

My family and I have lived through two full years of displacement, hunger, cold, and constant fleeing from death. We run from place to place carrying the little we have left, searching for somewhere that can give us a chance to survive just one more day. The shelling and airstrikes left us with nothing… our home collapsed before our eyes, our city turned into ruins, and everything we built vanished under the rubble.

We became lost, without hope, weighed down by endless loss. My father was a simple worker, and the little he earned was what fed us and kept us going. But the war took his job, leaving him with no way to provide even the most basic necessities of life. Suddenly, I found myself responsible for my entire family—at a time when I was supposed to be in university, studying, dreaming, and planning my future like other young people around the world.

In Gaza, we live in another world… a world completely forgotten. I grew up in a city full of life, then watched it slowly erased until it became grey, silent, exhausted, and without a soul. Our dreams turned into black ashes—just like the walls of the homes melted by the bombings.

Every day, I wake up in the only room we all live in—a small room that holds all our postponed dreams—and my mind immediately starts racing: Will I be able to catch my turn in the line for clean water today? Will I manage to bring home any food for my family amid the insane prices? We no longer have the time or ability to think about our future or my siblings’ future… all we think about now is survival.

Our lives have lost their purpose. We have grown afraid of the word “future,” because it no longer means anything to us. Each day is simply another attempt to survive the unknown that lies ahead.

I’m sorry if my words seem messy, but this is the truth exactly as it is—exactly as I live it, without exaggeration or decoration. We are living complete loss in a forgotten corner of the world, as if we are invisible.

Even so, despite all the pain, I still believe there are compassionate hearts who will not forget us.

Thank you to everyone who reads my story, to everyone who feels our suffering, and to everyone who extends a helping hand in this harsh world. Sharing my story, even with a small amount of support, means so much to me and my family… it may give us strength and hope to keep going.
Donations link in the comments.