I used to love watching shows and reading novels about crime — my favorites were The Black List and the Sherlock Holmes series — but not anymore. It isn’t fiction anymore; it’s happening in my real life, and the violence and cruelty I couldn’t imagine before are taking place every day in Gaza.

We’ve been suffering various kinds of torment and oppression. On top of a merciless hunger, we’ve witnessed countless murders and massacres over the past six months, and the injustice we face under Israeli occupation continues. They’re destroying everything: our houses, hospitals, mosques, churches, and universities have all been turned to ash.

On the other hand, there’s me, a 19-year-old girl whose biggest concern is her education — bombing our schools and universities hurts me the most. When I was able to go to school, I was a persistent and diligent student, always studying hard to earn high marks. I loved going to bookshops and buying new books, always eager to learn more. But now all our libraries and bookstores have been bombed.

I also have a passion for learning new languages; I learned a little bit of Turkish and was planning to study English Literature in college. I managed to graduate high school last year with a grade point average (GPA) of 99.3, and it wasn’t an easy year for us students — we struggled a lot and worked hard, but we were committed and patient with ourselves, because we all have dreams we’re eager to see come true. Graduation was a big achievement — we finally did it! — and we were looking forward to our bright futures.

After graduation, I enrolled at Islamic University to pursue my dream of studying English literature. The moment when I officially became a “college student” was unique and super special. I felt like a true grown up, and I was thrilled and scared at the same time! I was excited about my new journey but also felt responsible now that I’m not so young anymore. I knew I needed to depend on myself and work hard.

On my first day of college, I had mixed feelings — it was a bit weird being in a new place so far from home, surrounded by new faces. I felt lonely at first, but then I started to make friends: I met Laila, who shares my same dreams and ambition. Together, we planned tirelessly for the future and motivated each other to work hard.

Sadly, I’ve lost touch with her since she evacuated her home and fled to southern Gaza. She lives in a refugee tent now, where there isn’t any internet connection. I hope she and her family are okay, and by okay I really mean alive, because none of us are okay. I don’t think our mental health will ever recover from this.

At school, I also became friends with Shaima, whose reputation as a kind, sweet, passionate girl precedes her. After graduating high school with a 99.6 GPA, she had big aspirations for her future. She was doing her best to fulfill her dreams.

Devastatingly, Shaima and her entire family were murdered a few months ago when Israel bombed their house. I wept for her — even though I didn’t know her for very long, it was enough to grieve for her. I can’t accept her loss.

Our dream has vanished and all we have now is a memory. The occupation has bombed our university and destroyed its buildings, and it’s hugely devastating to lose my future in this way. When I saw the recent pictures of my university, I barely recognized it: all I saw was rubble. It’s heartbreaking.

Because of the occupation, we’ve lost our right to study, and we’ve lost the right to live a decent life. There is no end in sight to this aggression: we’re counting days one by one and nothing changes. Even if it ends, what can we do? There are neither schools nor universities left to finish our education. Is it possible to study in the rubble of destroyed buildings? Or will we return to the coronavirus times, with all our classes online?

This is huge insult to our massive abilities and minds. It’s a total catastrophe for my whole generation!

I have a thousand questions, and I can’t find any answers. Our energy is being totally consumed by this and we can’t stand it anymore. We’ve lost everything, and now we’re praying not to lose our souls and our lives.

But despite the harm that’s been inflicted on us, we’re still waiting, chasing after any small piece of hope that we might get our lives back. We’re desperate to hear that the oppressor has gone, continuing to wish for salvation while witnessing death. It’s extremely painful to see how our lives are negotiable.

How can you just move on with your life while ours are being taken by force?