My name is Saja, from northern Gaza.

I’m not writing for attention — I’m writing because I have no other way to scream.

We are caught between life and death, living in a tent that doesn’t protect us from the heat or cold, on land that grows nothing but pain.

We are 20 people in one tent, sharing a single meal of lentils.

No bread. No clean water. No electricity. No peace.

The nights are dark. Fear never sleeps. And silence weighs heavier than the rubble around us.

I write this from the heart of suffering,

for my mother — who grows weaker every day, with no medicine, no comfort, no home worthy of her.

And for my sisters — young girls carrying burdens far beyond their years, girls who dream only of clean clothes or a pillow not soaked in tears.

We’re not asking for much.

We just want to live… with dignity.

To eat like other humans.

To feel safe — even for a moment.

Please help us. Don’t forget us.

For my mother, who has given everything and now has nothing.

For my sisters, who fight silently every day just to survive.

I am Saja… writing to you from the heart of Gaza.

Please, don’t look away.

We are human too… we’re just being crushed by what we cannot escape.