In Gaza, death seems easier than the endless suffering of displacement. Death ends pain; displacement only makes it worse, opening a wound that never heals.

In Gaza City, people face two bitter choices: stay and risk being killed or imprisoned, or flee southward to an impossible life in a camp. Displacement is not simply a relocation—it is a slow death. It is embarking on a journey not knowing whether there will be shelter, food, or water at the end. It means exhaustion, homelessness, and fear. Even reaching a shelter offers no real safety because death can still follow you there.

Since the start of the war, my family and I have been displaced 15 times. Each time has been harder than the one before. Every time, we have lost our possessions, our health, our sense of security.

It all started in October 2023. We fled our home in the Tal al-Hawa neighbourhood, which was subsequently bombed in November, and sought shelter at the nearby Al-Bahrain School. We stayed there until mid-November. From there, we went to my uncle’s house in Tal al-Hawa and then to my aunt’s house in the Zeitoun area. We then went to another uncle’s house in Tal al-Hawa; when that area got too dangerous, we moved two streets away to another relative’s home. From there we moved to our neighbours’ home and then to a........

© Al Jazeera