I am a mother living in a refugee camp with my children, and life has become something I never imagined.
There are days when there is no food, and I have to watch my children sleep hungry. They ask me simple things like “Mama, what will we eat?” and I have no answer for them. I just hold them close and hope they sleep before the hunger pains get worse.
The nights are heavy. There is no peace, no real rest. I stay awake listening to every sound, thinking about tomorrow, wondering how I will make it through another day with nothing in my hands.
People see us, but they do not really see us. They pass by our struggle like it is normal, like this kind of life is something we should accept. It hurts more when you feel invisible than when you are alone.
My children deserve better than this. They deserve to laugh without worry, to eat without fear, to sleep without hunger. But this is the life they have been given, and I have nothing to change it.
Every day feels the same. Empty, heavy, and uncertain. And the hardest part is waking up knowing that nothing has changed.