It's been 100 days

Wake me up when it's all over.

100 days.

100 days of tears.

100 days of terror.

100 days of my heart feeling like it’s being ripped out of my chest.

100 days of haunting images and videos that I play back like a movie whenever I close my eyes.

100 days of sharing and posting and wondering if anyone is listening.

100 days of asking, “How is this real life?”

100 days of saying, “That woman could be me. That boy could be mine.”

100 days of worrying if they’re safe, if we’re safe, if the world is safe.

100 days of my belief system being shattered.

100 days of crushing disbelief and disillusionment.

100 days of discord and arguing and so many words that mean nothing and so many words that mean everything.

100 days of protests and shouting and too many voices.

100 days of not enough voices.

100 days of silence.

100 days of abandonment.

100 days of counting the bodies, the hostages, the rockets, the days.

100 days of death, destruction, and devastation.

100 days of erasing history, of rewriting facts, of changing narratives.

100 days of praying for surrender, for freedom, for peace.

100 days of resurrected trauma and grief.

100 days of mourning.

100 days of antisemites coming out from the shadows, emboldened by their hatred.

100 days of screaming for our right to exist.

100 days of trying to make people understand, then realizing they never will.

100 days of strength.

100 days of pride.

100 days of lost friendships.

100 days of new friendships.

100 days of trying to write about anything else.

100 days of trying to read about anything else.

100 days of trying to care about anything else.

100 days of asking when will this end.

100 days of wishing we could go back to before, and knowing we never can.