What is life to you? Life?

For me, my family, and my people, it is nothing but a question we keep asking, and never truly answered. What is life, if not endless waiting, for a piece of bread, for suffering to ease, before a cruel death finally arrives.

Today's shift was beyond horrible, not just because l've been feeling unbearably sick, both physically and mentally, but because patients were everywhere. On beds, on the ground, in the courtyard; standing, sitting, lying on the floor

Hello everyone, I can no longer feel your love or your humanity toward me. I have lost all my trust in humanity. This is exactly how they dehumanized me. It feels unbearable; to be seen and to be loved, yet unable to feel it.

I feel like hell, and l am actually in hell as I write this, but it must be said.

This is what hell looks like right now from my house.

A nearby home, full of people, was just targeted. I can still smell the dust and debris. Ambulances rushed in to carry the injured, while relatives ran so quickly toward the hospital; as if arriving sooner could save anyone. They were running from death, straight into death. My local news channel reported that the entire family was torn apart, reduced to pieces.

I’m going crazy

Every single detail in this video, in this life is just heartbreaking.

Pray for Gaza.

Pray for the children, the mothers, and the elderly. Entire families are staying in the open, forced to sleep under the sky and on the bare ground.

These are the darkest, most unbearable days since the beginning of the genocide.

Today felt like one of the days of the world's end for us. It was the worst day so far; and tomorrow will be even worse

Here, your life does not belong to you. If you walk too fast, you could be killed.

I think I realized during my shift last night that I have a disability deep within me. As if l am no longer alive. Most of my time, most of my seconds; I am absent, lost in endless nothingness.

I don't feel comfortable in my skin, even when I'm resting from my exhaustion. I feel very uncomfortable, as a doctor living and surviving the unsurvivable, having to be a beacon of hope for literally everyone, and the heavy weight of that burden.

This war will never end; it tortures us every moment, as if even time itself has been taken hostage!

I am loved, and my enemy is despised. My story is complicated, yet it is not.

For two years I have not thought much about my own survival.

When I hear a helicopter, I go to the window, look at the sky, and wait for my missile; longing for the comfort it might bring.

Everything I try to do here costs me so much of myself; my health, my memory, my time, and sometimes, my sanity.

Salam. I hope you are well. I love you, and I hate them.

Stupid Trump sent some food, along with enough ammunition to kill anyone who dares to resist his best friend’s starvation plan.

In my life, I've drowned in oceans of suffering, climbed mountains of despair, and been strangled by skies that rain death.

I am a doctor. I know pain. I have pain in my back;

It shoots through my neck, across my shoulders, down to my hands and fingers

I started my day this morning treating a middle-aged woman who was injured by shrapnel in the upper part of her chest on both sides, causing internal bleeding in her lungs.

From: “No one dies of hunger”

To: “Everyone will die of hunger.

Hunger has always been part of life here. There’s an old saying: “No one dies of hunger”; meant to comfort the poor, to give them hope.