Watching Jerusalem this week is almost too much. This has been my whole life. "Conflict." And my parent's lives. And most of my grandparent's lives. They didn't have social media, just stories passed on that every Palestinian has. Not a single Palestinian doesn't have stories.

I was first harassed by a soldier when I was maybe 9? Visiting my cousins one summer. Walking to the corner store for candy, a 2 minute walk. A soldier approaches, big gun in hand. Yells for our family name. I was terrified. My cousins were totally calm. They were so used to it.

I remember nights in my grandmother's village when all the men would get rounded up to the mosque. I would cry when my uncles would have to go. There were always stories of men who didn't come back. My aunt's brother was one. They never found him. It became a family folk tale.

Even texting my now-adult cousins this week. I'm the silly paranoid American cousin. "It seems bad right now," I say. They respond with laughing and eye roll emojis. "It's always like this!" This is allegedly called "resilience," but that's a euphemism for a lifetime of trauma.

All this time, all these years of these stories, all the years of activism and injustice and tragedy, now neatly framed in dozens of videos, and the narrative surrounding it is basically the same. This may be the worst part. How many more generations will have to live like this?