'I am from eastern Ghouta in the Damascus countryside, I am 15-years-old I live here with my mother and siblings. I am in eighth grade but I stopped studying three months ago because of the constant bombardment of the place in which I live. My school was bombed by warplanes more than once but after each raid, we would return and try to complete our studies. But my school was bombed until it was completely destroyed and I no longer have a classroom within which to study or a playground to play in. The other schools in Eastern Ghouta have also been targeted and destroyed. I want to tell the world what is happening to us today and convey my suffering, which I live through every day because of the bombings and the siege. I want to tell the truth and to tell people what is happening to us. We are besieged, we are hungry, we are under constant bombardment, we are exhausted from the displacement and the killing.
This war is not ending, but we are forced to grow up in these conditions and no one has done anything to protect and support the vulnerable here. Conferences and meetings and false peace talks fail while the Arabs and the rest of the world are still silent. In this war we have already lost everything, and we are still losing more, every single day, every single one of us has lost something precious. Losing my home and my father I lost my house, which my father built with with hard work and the sweat from his forehead. Then my father was killed two years ago after a shell landed on the mosque where he was praying. Many of the children here have lost their fathers or their mothers, many of us have lost siblings and many of us have lost our homes. We have been dismembered, we have lost parts of our bodies, our hands, our feet and our eyes. The world will not be able to compensate us for anything that we lost. We have lost sight of the sky and the sun because of the war planes that fly over us day and night in order to bomb civilians.
The siege surrounds us. The specter of death and starvation hovers over us. Last week the regime began to escalate its violent campaign against us. Planes indiscriminately drop bombs of hatred and destruction on us. On Thursday, warplanes mounted yet more raids on residential buildings. Everyone went down to the cellars and we could hear the roar of the jets above us as we held each other’s hands.
I was walking in the street with some of my friends, including my friend Salim who lives next door to us when we heard the sound of jets approaching. We fled to the cellar, but Salim ran to his home to hide with his family and uncle. He did not know that at that moment six missiles were on their way to his house. Smoke and black dust filled the cellar, choking us and filling the cellar with darkness. Children cried and the women screamed as they tried to check on their terrified children. When the dust settled, we saw that Salim’s house was completely destroyed and the Civil Defense teams were attempting to rescue the people, including Salim and his family, trapped under the rubble. After hours of searching through the rubble, I found out that Salim had miraculously survived. But his younger sister had died, his mother suffered life-changing injuries and his younger brother is still missing. Salim’s little cousins Mohammed, Majid and Raghad were also killed in the air strike. I find it hard to believe the life we are witnessing here in Ghouta. Today I am reassured at least because Salim has left the hospital, he is unable to move because of his injury. We do not know what tomorrow will bring.'