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Karim, a qualified medical professional in his twenties, hails from the heart of Gaza. Before the recent forced displacement order from Israeli authorities, he lived amid the destruction of his family house with his parents and brothers. He has been forced to move 13 times because of the war and survived an aerial bombardment in southern Gaza. He kept a diary over the last few weeks.

August 17, 2025

After two years, I've lost all hope. I don't believe the news about the war ending. My dad insists we must relocate to Deir al-Balah soon, prior to they evict us once more. Were this another group, the United Nations might have intervened. But for us, nothing. Now they talk about relocating us to South Sudan – a land torn by internal conflict, overflowing with displaced people. There are 2 million of us, confined in less than 20 sq km, just facing gradual death. And the international community will remain indifferent. A former leader once said, "We will perhaps in time forgive the Arabs for taking our children's lives, but it will be more difficult for us to forgive them for having forced us to end their children's lives." That sums it up. Sometimes, I think Israel ought to be analyzed by psychologists – maybe then the world would grasp the insanity we live under.

18 August 2025

I caught a ride to the central area with a friend – it felt like an act of daring: cars altered to transport more passengers, trailers clinging on like lifeboats. You hold on with all your strength, because if you fail, you could fall into the exposed street and be lost.

Close to a central roundabout I saw a "hizam nari" – a ribbon of fire across the sky. Military aircraft carved a line of explosions above Gaza City, one after another; smoke plumes rose and everything below them was obliterated. I tallied several missiles – then gave up counting because it seemed pointless. I have to find shelter for my family – an flat, a shed, whatever space available. My thoughts wander, I lose track, I forget plans – the chaos takes them away. All I sense is a constant anxiety and the hollow hope that we will still be here the following day.

19 August 2025

Yesterday, I at last succeeded to secure a storage space – 1,500 shekels, about £335 a month. That's the cheapest you can find, because demand is high while homes and structures are bombed to the ground. This "garage" has barely any cover. The landlord even proposed a small flat for over $600 – honestly, even a luxury apartment in Dubai costs that much. In conflicts and emergencies people become more aggressive, more selfish, looking to benefit from the suffering of others. And perhaps that's "normal", or instead the predictable conduct of someone who has endured two years of eviction, expulsion, famine – especially inside the world's largest prison.

So I began setting up my temporary dwelling – sweeping, arranging, attempting to create a habitable space. I cannot allow myself even a moment to reflect on my old room prior to the violence, my comfortable mattress, my gaming desk, the air conditioner, our home … I must not allow longing to take over. I just continue forward. Onward, onward – never looking back.

August 28, 2025

For a week now I've been separated from my mother and father. Regardless of what my father said initially, they cling to hope – or to refusal – believing that all the back-and-forth between the Qataris, Americans, Egyptians and Israelis means Gaza City won't be evacuated. So they decline to move. For two years the world has done as it pleases while we drown, and we clutch at the smallest, most obvious lies – the little straws that allow us to survive. The harsh reality is the authorities were never coy about their aims: "We'll annihilate Gaza." They did. "You will be moved." They accomplished that. "We will cut off 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, turn into ruins like the southern area. I'm taking a brief respite now – a temporary calm I've earned.

9 September 2025

My parents are finally with me. We converted the space into a home – rooms, a small personal zone. Of course the barriers are just vinyl sheets. I succeeded in accessing the internet for a short time. It has reached this point: the armed forces has issued a forced displacement order for the entire northern region, encompassing the west side. Residents have exhausted, penniless, no desire to leave their homes – numerous individuals would rather die than go out.

This day our neighbour informed us the Israelis even bombed Qatar. OMG. They have no restraints any more. The nation – with the biggest US installation in the Middle East – was allegedly struck by a power allied with the US. I think it's obvious what follows and what it implies for the population: systematic destruction until the last breath. They've been given carte blanche.

15 September 2025

My mom's special day – one more modest observance under inhuman circumstances. Things have eased a bit, but this is not the life we were destined for. My device displayed images from her birthday in 2022: a homemade cake and my preferred New York cheesecake. I recall giving her 1984 by George Orwell – we burned it for bread at the conclusion of that year because we had no gas or wood to bake. What would the writer feel of us today? I like to imagine he'd forgive us. I dried my eyes in private and kept going. The central area is getting more crowded. People are worn out: they don't want to die, but many feel they already have.

I held my mother's hand, kissed it, and murmured "Best wishes". She has been sick for several days. I penned a note and apologised because I don't have a single cent for a cake (which would be priced at seventy dollars) or even a small gift.

September 21, 2025

Countries like the UK and Australia have recognised Palestine as a sovereign entity – why now and to what end? Israel continues to bomb us, the atrocities goes on. But now we can legally perish as a recognized nation, we have a state. How nice.

Following immense hardship, numerous nations that have rejected for almost 24 months that the organized eradication of a people was taking place in the territory are now voicing concern. Celebrities and artists join in because it's become mainstream. Previously, people would shrug and say, "Oh no, I don't know enough about the region, it's too sensitive for me to comment." Hypocrites.

25 September 2025

Same cruel routine, every single day – people die from hunger, from weakness, from the missiles that never stop. A individual nearby died recently. Initially I assumed it must have been the usual horror – a raid, a random shot. But it wasn't. He simply collapsed. His heart stopped. I remain shocked how ordinary his death felt, how rapidly a existence can vanish and result in a hollow silence. I was stunned, like I'd been anaesthetised to this type of tragedy and suddenly woke up.

My daily routine is a map of survival: fetch water, {scavenge for