Since April 2025, I have lived through days that reshaped my understanding of what it means to plan for the future. There were moments when even the idea of dreaming felt distant, almost unrealistic. In a reality defined by uncertainty, displacement, and survival, long-term goals begin to fade into the background. And yet, from a small desk inside a tent, I held on to one possibility that refused to disappear: a scholarship.

I graduated on June 14, 2023, with a clear sense of direction. I wanted to work in communications and public relations, particularly within international NGOs in Gaza City. It was not simply a career choice. I was drawn to the power of communication itself: the ability to shape narratives, to represent realities that are often overlooked, and to connect people through truth. Those around me encouraged me to pursue this path further, recognizing both my interest and my potential.

(A photo of my graduation taken by my friend)

At that time, the future felt structured. I began taking steps toward it. In September 2023, I enrolled in a diploma program at Al-Aqsa University and joined additional courses to strengthen my skills. I believed in gradual progress, in preparing myself carefully, and in building something meaningful step by step. Like many young people, I had a quiet confidence that effort would eventually lead to opportunity.

I remember a moment that now feels distant, yet deeply significant. A friend once suggested that we take a photo together, something we could look back on when our dreams had come true. It was a simple idea, almost casual, but it carried a sense of hope that we both needed. We believed, in that moment, that the future was something we would reach.

(With my friend, Dr. Bashar, a student at IUG)

I know that Bashar can bring his dream to light, and he is already doing so.

But life did not follow my plans.

War interrupted everything. The structure I had built for my future collapsed under circumstances beyond my control. Daily life became centered around survival rather than progress. Loss, fear, and uncertainty replaced routine and ambition. In such conditions, dreams are not abandoned, but they are reshaped. They become quieter, more fragile, held internally rather than expressed openly.

In that reality, the line between life and death feels uncomfortably thin. You begin to measure time differently, not in semesters or milestones, but in days of safety and moments of calm. And yet, even in that environment, something within me refused to let go entirely of what I had started.

When a ceasefire was announced, there was a brief return of something resembling possibility. It was not a full return to normal life, but it was enough to allow me to think again about the future. I reached out to colleagues, reconnecting with people who were continuing their academic journeys despite everything. One of them shared that he had secured a scholarship in Ireland and was nearing the completion of his Master’s degree. His story stayed with me. It was a reminder that even from Gaza, pathways still existed, however narrow they might be.

And yet, I am still here.

These moments, following my graduation and everything that came after, stirred something deep within me and pushed me toward the next step: applying for fully funded scholarships, especially in the United Kingdom.

That was the moment I decided to act.

I began applying for fully funded scholarships, particularly in the United Kingdom. The process itself was demanding under normal circumstances, but in Gaza, it required something more. It meant working through instability, limited resources, and constant distraction. It meant writing personal statements while surrounded by uncertainty, and preparing applications while carrying the psychological weight of everything happening around me.

(My offer of study at the University of Glasgow)

At times, it felt overwhelming. But it also became a form of resistance, a way of insisting that my future was still worth investing in.

Throughout this journey, I was not entirely alone. I was fortunate to receive guidance from a mentor in the United States, Jaz, who dedicated her time to supporting my applications and keeping me informed about opportunities. Her belief in my potential, combined with my own determination, helped me maintain focus when it was most difficult to keep going.

What I have come to understand is that securing a scholarship from Gaza is not only about academic achievement. It requires persistence beyond expectation, discipline under pressure, and the ability to continue even when progress feels invisible. It is about holding on to a sense of direction in an environment that constantly challenges it.

Today, I no longer see education simply as a goal or a step toward a career. It has become something more fundamental. It is a lifeline. It is a way to rebuild not only my own future, but also to contribute to a broader narrative, one that reflects resilience, continuity, and the refusal to be defined solely by circumstances.

A scholarship, in this context, is not just an opportunity to study. It is a chance to move forward, to reconnect with purpose, and to carry a story beyond the boundaries that currently contain it.

Even when every door seems closed, there are still ways forward. Sometimes, they begin with something as small, and as powerful, as the decision to keep trying.

I will do my best to secure this opportunity, and I truly believe that day will come.

I will do my best to secure this opportunity, and I truly believe that day will come.