A Martyr's Last Word

Born in Gaza - as though that were a terrorist crime demanding my horrific execution.

A small reminder, in case my ashes still whisper: I am human, still feel, and once had dreams ..

Even after nearly two years of doors slamming shut again and again in my face, I still cradle those dreams within me - quiet , breathless , starving with me , bleeding beside me - far from missile shards, the thunder of explosions, the stench of death,  and those bewildering evacuation orders.

They say dreams are stubborn, but I've watched mine flinch at every detonation . And now I wonder .. will my dreams perish when I am martyred? Or can they emerge, surviving, from beneath the ruins of my soul ?

Would they choose to remain in a world that watched our torment unfold for decades - eyes wide open, yet mouths sealed?  and stood silent, arms folded - a world bloated with slogans of human rights and noble causes, 

yet powerless to offer a crumb to a starving soul .. just because we are from Gaza!

Stay indifferent, as always. I'm just a martyr, whispering final words before I'm reduced to fragments - and by morning, my name will fade, as if I never existed.

When I was little - before my bones learned to grow, they learned how to shrink under rubble. 

Before I knew my own name, I memorized the names of missiles. 

In one of my favorite cartoons, Ben 10, I used to watch Ben and his cousin Gwen save the world, shield the weak, and defy evil with courage. I always wished to stand beside them. As a child, I truly believed a hero's shield could stop missiles - So I dreamed of building one like Gwen’s.

But real life taught me: in Gaza, you don't get to be the hero... You just pray not to be the target!

Years later, I grew older . And instead of surrendering, I chose AI - not to fight, but to save.

And maybe, just maybe, to become the hero I never saw arrive.

Three weeks into university, the apocalypse struck. My campus - one of the few places I felt I truly belonged - was obliterated. Because in Gaza, we are cursed to wander until death claims us !

Despite it all, I did not surrender.. because "Resistance is a continuous purpose", so I decided to pursue my path through self-learning, I was forced to fight draining battles, alongside the savage war that consumed my life - battles born of scarce connection, faltering internet, and relentless power outages, as though knowledge itself were a forbidden incantation meant to destroy this planet. 

Still, I carried on with what little I had, clutching my fragile dream - flaming with hardship - in trembling hands,  to one day craft a machine, a robot. For humanity, not nationality.  I would name it "Noor" - "The light", so it might become the light for those whose lives were darkened by evil,  whose dreams were buried without mercy,  until silent, starving resistance could bloom in a form that transcends all the hell this world has drowned in.

But how long could a childhood dream like mine endure beneath the weight of such ruthless, merciless weaponry? 

The missiles outpaced my thoughts, and the thunder of explosions drowned out even my most desperate cries. 

Bit by bit, the strength that held me together began to fracture - until the verdict was cast:  We are surrounded now.

Encircled by rigged machines, robotic instruments of annihilation, built not to protect but to erase us - to scour our existence off the face of this earth.  And so “Noor” collapsed before it could ever shine.

Perhaps the final question I ask is this:  What kind of darkness must reside in a heart to craft such a grotesque weapon - as though pain were a mathematical equation that could be engineered?

And what of those who bore witness to every form of inventive slaughter - who watched tens of thousands of us perish while they yawned and scrolled past with casual indifference? 

No reaction. No outrage. Just a single tap: “Skip.”

So dear humans in this "fair" world.. You abandoned us. 

I suggest you don’t gaze too long into the mirror,  lest you catch a glimpse of our blood - tattooed as a stain of shame on the forehead of your counterfeit humanity. 

I hope you’re granted a natural death, with a whole body - not hungry, not afraid,  nor dizzy from the tremors caused by the detonation of residential blocks around you. 

Because we are the ones who truly know the grotesque weight of death in that form. 

And I wished I could hope that your conscience rests as ours - but you possess no conscience at all.

End of story. Thanks for wasting your precious time on this trivial nonsense.

Now, You may return to your day… to live. And I shall remain where I am, waiting for my turn… to die.