This is a photo of my cousins from when I was just one year old. We were all born into a world of occupation and siege. Our parents lived through the same struggle, and our grandparents survived the Nakba. With every generation, the darkness has only grown deeper.

Horrible new year. This is a devastating way for me to welcome a new year.

When I was still a medical student, I knew medicine was difficult, but I never imagined it could be this brutal.

Hundreds of families, children, so many cold children, were desperately waiting for us today.

The most difficult thing in thís world is not just to feel pain, but to feel this world at all, to feel belonging to it, and a longing to live within it. Instead, all you are made to feel is the opposite: ethnic cleansing, and genocide.

I just took a break from my shift, exhausted as hell, and had a desperately needed hot shower, the first this winter.

Oh my God. The scale of suffering and agony is unbearable.

I finally had a moment to think about every patient I met today at the hospital, and I couldn't stop myself from crying. The pain of it all floods me. How can a human heart carry this much?

sos; It's raining now. My world has already fallen apart.

And we are made to believe that resisting despair, injustice, and occupation is useless. Why? Because it never crossed the devil's mind to allow us simply to exist, to let us be, in peace. They have convinced the world, and its leaders, that we are theirs to kill and to torture. They have designed a plan in which our very survival becomes an endless tragedy.

l am deeper now in understanding suffering; my soul touches the soul of everyone who is broken. I have gone deeper into knowing the meaning of pain, of all the bad feelings, and the deeper I go, the more sensitive I become, toward others and toward myself.

Before leaving my shift this morning, a father arrived carrying his newborn baby, dead from the cold. Read that again. And last night, I saw a woman arrive in the cold, in labor pain, and she had to be transferred to another hospital to give birth there.

I've never felt this level of sensitivity in my life. I feel like a universe made of endless moments of frustration and devastation, fighting back another universe within me, made of kindness and love.

This is the peace we were promised, and this is all they could give. Such generous givers!

The terrorizing sound of warplanes when they come every night, threatening us, reminding us that we can stll be erased.

Last night, we faced a severe shortage of doctors. After 18 hours into my shift, I had to deal with many patients alone, all at the same moment. Most of these patients had critical issues, and delaying care for even minutes could have cost them their lives. Their families asked for reassurance and next steps again and again, and it was almost impossible to answer everyone at the same time when I myself was fatigued and stressed, perhapS more than anyone around me. But I stood there acting strong, moving from one patient to another, fighting my own battle and theirs, trying to decide who needed the most urgent attention.

I am in bed now, trying to sleep before my shift, knowing it won't be easy, as usual.

I am still sipping my coffee while my bed keeps shaking from massive explosions, and drones are ZZZZZing away any peace I could have. That's literal Zionism.

My homeland has always been a prison to both my soul and my body. At a time when my people are being killed and tortured endlessly, without even being seen as numbers.

Peace. My brother and fellow human, Dr. lan, left me this hat before returning home. I tried it on after my shift, and I took a quick selfie with my sweet niece, Ciela.

.

Don't ask me to have hope, not again.

Today, I had to hug one of my closest friends as he cried over his beloved uncle who was martyred.

What am I? Simply, I am a kind man surviving a genocide. Did I cry today? Yes, I just did. One dear friend always tells me that I am a sensitive soul, and every time, it makes me wonder: isn't that what everyone should be?

I didn't learn what I'm feeling right now in medical school. This isn't simple anxiety or the usual restlessness of a long shift. This is not written in books, not even in the darkest eras of history. These heart-shattering feelings were taught to us the hardest way; by living through what no one should ever witness.