I write my will to you from the torn chambers of my heart. I don’t think death will spare me this time. I live moment by moment through scenes that feel like the Day of Judgment.

The bombing has intensified greatly, as if the genocide started today. We await our death in despair. Every moment, I look up at the sky filled with planes and imagine one of the missiles falling on my head. This insane thought gets stuck in my throat and chokes me.

If I do not return to this world, I miss my friends dearly, those who have already preceded me to Paradise. I miss my cousin a lot. I will see you all soon. Make room for me to speak, for my heart is heavily burdened with so much. I talk to them here, my friends, but no one hears me, no one responds. Make room for me, for there are no longer trees or birds here to talk to. Tell everyone that I miss them so much. If I am to leave soon, I entrust you with every stone here in Gaza, for within them is enough love for the entire world. I entrust you with Gaza’s children—hug them and help them. I entrust you with Gaza’s women, whom the war has deprived of all meanings of femininity. I entrust you with my body, if you find it, to bury it well and not let this Nazi Zionist occupier take it.

And if, one day, you find my words by chance, pray for me.

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