The Unbearable Weight of Escaping Gaza’s Destruction

I thought building a new life away from Gaza would feel like a fresh start, but I didn’t realise the burden of carrying two lives at once - one of them scarred by war.

Dreaming tastes strange when it comes with guilt. I had long hoped for a scholarship to study abroad, like any other international student - and now it’s real. I have won a place in Italy to complete my bachelor’s degree, just as I always dreamed. But I never imagined my scholarship would arrive in the middle of a genocide. I never thought it would be my ticket to survival.

The process began in the early months of the war when I realised Gaza was no longer the place I had once known. I told my family I wanted to complete my bachelor’s degree abroad, no matter how long it took. Amid starvation, bombs, death, and unimaginable conditions, I held on to my dream.

I spent hours on my phone - no matter how many times the electricity or internet failed - searching for a scholarship that could realise my dream. I applied dozens of times to different countries and programmes and, somehow, I had the strength to keep going, even while sheltering from the war.

Every email notification was a promise of escape, but it always ended the same way - with a rejection. I remained trapped in Gaza, with no clear way out. But I kept pursuing my dream, even when the world around me was telling me there was no hope.

Then, good news finally arrived: I was granted a scholarship in Italy. I remember vividly where I was when hope finally touched me: sitting in the tent at our displacement site - it was October 2025. I prayed that this time it would be real, that my heart would not break again.

While waiting for my evacuation date, I spent days and nights without sleep. I was torn between chasing my dream and the guilt of leaving my family. It felt unbearably cruel to hold a single ticket to survival while part of a family of eight who had no similar way out. For a month, I waited. For a month, I asked myself the same questions every day: why must I leave Gaza to have a future? Why does life for Palestinians always feel incomplete? Why is our joy always complicated?

Evacuation

Finally, the night of the evacuation arrived. I received a call from the Italian embassy: be ready on 17 November at 4am in Deir al-Balah. I was instructed to only bring my phone and charger, nothing else was allowed.

The dream was finally becoming real, but for a Palestinian, happiness is never pure. All my hopes for the future fell away as I said goodbye to my family: my father, mother, four brothers, and one sister. Tears still fall as I write this. Can you imagine how much I miss them? For me, we are the best family. We endured the war and its unbearable conditions together, hand in hand. We shared the pain with patience and hope. In reality, survival meant nothing without them.

At 6am, I began leaving Gaza. Once on the evacuation bus, I realised that nothing would ever be the same. Not me, not my future. I began to think of those who had destroyed our dreams, forcing us to leave and rebuild our lives elsewhere. Fear, stress, and terror consumed me. I was about to face the people who had tried to destroy us over the past two years. All I could do was sit in silence - powerless - and follow the rules they imposed.

“Sara Awad, Italy.” That was the last thing I heard from the Israeli soldier at the checkpoint. My heart felt so heavy, and survivor’s guilt began to settle deep in my mind and soul. More than ten hours passed on the bus heading to Amman, Jordan. As we crossed our occupied land, I saw it for the first time in my 21 years. I understood I might never see it again. There were 24 people being evacuated to Italy, including students and family reunions. Elderly people and children were exhausted from the long evacuation process.

During these hours on the bus, I started to think about everything I had endured during the war. I cried like a child longing for her mother. Millions of emotions, suppressed and scattered during the chaos, now poured out as I left Gaza behind.

Heavy freedom

After days of exhaustion and fear, the journey was finally over. I arrived in Italy. I had expected to feel happy and relieved, but the truth was the opposite. Life outside Gaza seemed completely normal, too normal, while my people continued to suffer, even during the so-called ceasefire.

Italy was safe, clean, beautiful, and welcoming. And yet, it just kept reminding me how unfair life could be.

The first days in Italy felt unreal after witnessing two years of war. Life here was slow and quiet, the air clean, the streets calm. There was no chaos, no faces filled with fear, no constant uncertainty. People moved freely, unburdened. I realised how heavy freedom could feel when you’ve lived without it for so long.

I thought building a new life away from home would feel like a fresh start, but I didn’t realise the weight of carrying two lives at once - one of them scarred by war. How heavy it is to be a 21-year-old girl away from her loved ones, trying to build a better future for herself.

But, as always, Gazans know nothing about giving up. I still have hope for the future. It is January 2026 - a new year and a new chapter of my life. All my wishes go to Gaza and my family. May they remain happy and safe for all the years to come.

My heart is also full of gratitude and appreciation for Italy and its people. I am here living a good life because of the support of many lovely Italians. Effort and hard work sometimes pays off. I am deeply grateful for this opportunity, and I hope that all students in Gaza who dream of a scholarship will be able to achieve it. I also hope that they can pursue their dreams without carrying the weight of survivor’s guilt that I bear in my heart.

Thank you, Italy. But I count the days until I can return to my homeland, to rebuild it with my education and my hope. My beloved Gaza, I carry you in my heart.

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Sara Awad is a Palestinian writer who evacuated to Italy to complete her bachelor’s degree in languages. Her work has appeared in The Intercept, Al Jazeera English, TRT World, Drop Site News, The Independent, Truthout, PRISM, and other international platforms. Passionate about capturing human experiences and shedding light on untold stories, she reports on social issues, resilience, identity, and hope amid the ongoing realities of war and occupation.