Please God, don’t let them win
There is an extreme pain in silence.
Not the silence of peace. Not the silence of rest. The other kind — the kind that dries your throat until no air can enter. The kind that sits on your chest like a stone that grew there slowly, so slowly you didn't notice its weight until the day you could no longer breathe around it. It is suffocating in a way that goes beyond the physical. It is a feeling beyond death — because in death, at least, the soul is released. In this silence, the soul keeps roaming. It wanders through a body that has stopped moving, that has gone still under the weight of everything unsaid, and it feels — acutely, completely — how helpless and motionless it is. Unable to express. Unable to shout for help. Unable to find comfort or healing or even the simple mercy of being heard.
This is how I feel.
Forty-three years on this earth. Forty-three years in this so-called life, living among parasites, nurturing them out of love or duty or conditioning — suffering in silence and paying for that silence in ways that never appear on any visible record. The price of silence on the soul and on the body is far more devastating than any physical wound. A shot, a bomb, a knife — these things break the body, and the body at least knows how to respond. It bleeds. It signals. It asks for help in a language the world understands. But the wounds of silence bleed inward. They signal to no one. They ask for nothing because they have been taught that asking is futile.
I want to shout now. I am willing to sacrifice the fragile, carefully constructed safety I built around myself to finally stand up for what is right. I know what it will cost. I will lose the few people I have left. I will not be widely heard — I am not famous, I have no following, I exist in no algorithm that amplifies voices like mine. In the currency of this world, I am nothing. I am invisible. A person without a platform is a person without a sound.
But perhaps my conscience will find relief. Perhaps the pain will finally find somewhere to go.
Because I genuinely do not understand. I do not understand how people who were born free — who arrived on this planet already carrying everything they needed, on a earth that provided every means to live with dignity and joy — still choose to follow the scum of humanity. The parasites. The ones who wear the skin of leaders and speak the language of protection while feeding on everything beneath them. I do not understand how people follow gods and prophets and systems and monarchs and presidents, surrendering themselves completely to structures that were always supposed to serve them and have long since turned against them.
These systems — governments, laws, institutions — were created with a purpose. To bring order. To protect communities. To serve the people living inside them. And when they began to fail — which happened long ago, quietly, without announcement — the contract broke. When the system fails its people, the people are not obligated to maintain their loyalty to it. Revolution is not chaos. Revolution is the natural consequence of a broken agreement. It is the people taking back what was always theirs and building something new — something that fits the generation living inside it, something that serves the living rather than the powerful.
This cycle has always existed. It will always exist. The question is only whether we are willing to be the ones who turn it.
What I cannot comprehend — what stops me completely — is how people could accept, support, or stand silently beside terrorists. And when I say terrorists, I mean the Zionists operating across the world — lobbying, killing, controlling, expanding, normalising their presence in every corridor of power while the rest of the world watches and calls it geopolitics. Wars do not have to be fought the way they have always been fought. Blood is not the only weapon available to people with courage. A pen is a weapon. A voice is a weapon. Technology is a weapon. An online platform in the hands of someone with truth is a weapon. A system can be dismantled by a simple, collective, unwavering no. Civil disobedience. Refusal. The withdrawal of consent from a structure that requires our participation to survive.
Fight them with their own laws. Or better — open your mind and reach for another human being. Because when people come together, truly together, they become something that cannot be broken. Who can destroy god when god is whole?
The state of Israel should not exist in its current form. This is not a statement made in hatred. It is a statement made in grief, in clarity, and in the recognition of what this state has become — a vessel for something that has no rightful place among human beings. A project of pure organised evil, operating under the flag of victimhood and the claim of divine election. Their devil. Dressed as our god.
This is not new. The force behind it has moved through history in different forms, arriving in different bodies, wearing different names. And every time — in every age, in every civilisation that faced it — the people found a way to recognise it and drive it back. They defeated it. They refused it. They stood together and the darkness retreated.
But this time is different. This time the devil got smarter.
This time it came from every angle simultaneously. It controlled money first — because whoever controls money controls survival, and whoever controls survival controls everything else. It controlled consumption, making people dependent on systems they could not imagine living without. It took over politics, installing its proxies and its loyalists in the rooms where decisions are made. It modified genes and bodies and minds. It created replacements for human connection — artificial, hollow, engineered substitutes designed to feel like enough. It rewrote history, controlled the narratives in books and classrooms and news rooms, until entire generations grew up inside a version of the past that served the present power structure perfectly.
For decades — for longer than most people are willing to trace — this plan has been in motion. A slow, patient, extraordinarily intelligent plan to erase goodness from the centre of human life. To replace it with evil wearing the costume of virtue. To position the architects of destruction as the eternal victims of it, the chosen ones, the ones whose suffering licenses everything they do and exempts them from every standard applied to everyone else.
They separated humans. Built borders not just between countries but between minds. Dismantled the natural connections between cultures — the exchange of ideas, of music, of food, of wisdom, of the simple recognition that the person across from you carries the same fears and the same longings that you do. They replaced that recognition with hatred. They manufactured wars between people who had no quarrel with each other until they were given one. They created diseases and fear and separation. They sedated the ones who were waking up and eliminated the ones who refused to be sedated. And then they attacked — and they have not stopped.
The devil hides under the flag of Israel but it is not contained there. It spreads. It moves. Zionism is a plague — not of people, not of a religion — but of a ideology of domination that will not stop at Gaza, will not stop at Lebanon, will not stop at the Arab world or the Muslim world or the Global South. It will not stop until it has consumed everything. That is the nature of what it is.
But here is what I also know. Here is the thing about plagues that history has shown us, that nature itself demonstrates over and over in its quiet and relentless way — plagues are not permanent. Nature responds. The herbs rise against the infection. The light moves toward the darkness and the darkness, which can only exist in the absence of light, begins to lose its way. The rebels find each other. The voices that were separated discover they were always saying the same thing. A new cycle begins — painful, uncertain, costly — but it begins.
Evil will never win if the good stand together. This is not optimism. This is a pattern written into the oldest stories of human civilisation, into every scripture, every mythology, every true account of what happens when ordinary people decide that what is being done in their name and on their land and to their children is finally, completely, unacceptably enough.
I am forty-three years old and tired and invisible and in pain. I am voiceless in the currency of this world. I have no following, no platform, no flag.
But I have the truth. And I have faith.
Please, God. Whatever name you go by, whatever form you take, whatever frequency carries your intention through this universe — please.
Don't let them win.
#freepalestine #notozionisim