I've been sitting with a quiet ache lately, the kind that comes not from shock, but from recognition. The news out of Gaza is grim. Bombs still fall, even after ceasefire deals are announced. Aid trickles in, but barely. And the world, it seems, has moved on. Again.

What unsettles me most isn't just the violence, it's the choreography of forgetting. The way headlines flare and fade. The way stories with global weight get buried under the churn of celebrity gossip and political theatre. Four days, maybe five, and then silence.

The Peace Deal That Isn't

Israel is still bombing Gaza. Even as peace is being discussed. Even after leaders declared the deal “sealed.” Civilians are dying while diplomats shake hands. It's a brutal contradiction, one that exposes how fragile and performative these agreements can be.

They call it a phased framework. Hostage exchanges. Humanitarian corridors. But the shelling hasn't stopped. Tanks still block roads. Aid convoys are still denied access. And families in Gaza are still burying their children under rubble.

“If this is peace, what does war look like?”

It's hard not to feel that the deal was more about optics than outcomes. A gesture to appease international pressure while maintaining military dominance. And once again, the people paying the price are those with the least power and the most to lose.

The Jet, the Base, and the Deal

Take the Qatar military training facility in Idaho. It's not a full base, we're told, just a site for Qatari pilots to train on U.S.-made fighter jets. But the timing is suspicious. A luxury jet gifted to Trump. A golf course deal. Then, suddenly, a greenlight for foreign military training on American soil.

It echoes something dark. The 9/11 hijackers trained in the U.S. too — mostly Saudi nationals, learning to fly in Florida and Arizona. We swore we'd never forget. But here we are, training foreign pilots again, under the banner of strategic partnership and billion-dollar arms deals.

“It's not just about one plane. It's about the erosion of public trust, the blurring of national interest and personal gain.”

Why Aren't We Tired?

I keep asking: why aren't more people tired of the lies? Of the spin? Of the quiet betrayals dressed up as diplomacy? Maybe we are tired, just too burnt out to act. Maybe we've been taught that caring is futile. That truth is tribal. That nothing changes.

But I still care. I still watch. I still ask. And I believe others do too, even if quietly, even if painfully. Because dignity matters. Memory matters. And attention, in a world built to distract us, is a form of resistance.

Written by someone who refuses to tune out.