Waiting lists for rescuing people trapped under the rubble. Bodies decomposing in the streets eaten by animals. Those still living who no longer recognize themselves. These are the stories we don’t yet have words to tell.

People spend hours in line for some bread, braving the hellfire of Israel’s warplanes. Flour has run out in the south. Everything has changed, and life has reverted to a state of bare existence.

This is the life we lead. We die together as loved ones are wiped out, leaving behind little more than a memory. All we can do is write their stories as we wait for our turn.

These are some of the stories of the people whose lives came into my own. Israel killed them during its genocidal war on our homeland.

Northern Gaza continues to be depopulated, while even residents of the south are receiving Israeli evacuation orders as the bombs force them closer to the Egyptian border. Israel is implementing its plans for ethnic cleansing.

One of the bakeries that Israel bombed in Nuseirat refugee camp had just received a shipment of flour from UNRWA meant to cover the food needs of the entire camp. Israel waited to bomb it once all the flour was unloaded.

Each day I attempt to contact my extended family to make sure they are still alive. No family got the chance to evacuate and shelter together, and we aren’t able to mourn our dead together either. The war strips us of everything that makes us human.

Nowhere is safe in Gaza as Israel commits massacres in the areas it designated as “safe zones” for civilians. People fear that Joe Biden’s visit will give Israel the green light to wipe Gaza off the map.

Keep my stories alive, so that you keep me alive. Remember that the world that pretended to be the savior of humanity participated in killing it.

Tareq Hajjaj woke Friday to a call from the Israeli military telling him he had to flee his home to save his life. The horrors of his journey to safety reminded him of the stories he has heard of the 1948 Nakba. But this time, he was living it.