August 9, 2001. 14:01 (that's 2:01 PM)
Sbarro restaurant, Jeruslaem, the capital city of Israel.

A suicide bomber named Az A-din Masri enters the restaurant with a large bombing device in his bag, bombing himself along with dozens of parents, teenagers, children and babies that were inside the pizza place as it's summer holiday.

130 Injuries.
15 Killed, 6 of them are children.

Both the Islamic Jihad and the Hamas organizations claim responsibility for the attack. In the news they say that whoever sent this guy was in a special list previously sent to Yasser Arafat, with a request to arrest each member of the list. The arresting process never started. In Lebanon, Gaza and other arabic countries, people celebrate the occasion, handing candies to the children and dancing in the streets. In Jerusalem, the jewish find random arabs and beat them, with no actual reason. Shoutings of "Death to the arabs" and "Death to the jews" are both heard everywhere.

It's a fucking war.

A whole family died yesterday. The Shivoshorder family lost their father, mother, and three little children. The other two girls were injured.

A young lady, wrapped up with bandages of all kinds and attached to several machines in the hospital, says her husband told her not to go out, "It's dangerous outside".

I'm 16 years old. I want to go out sometimes. I don't want to die. I love this country. And although i'm not religious at all, I love being jewish. I'm supposed to be left-winged, but right now I'm just full of hate.
The moment I saw the ambulances speeding around the most populated center in Jerusalem, the hundreds of people covered with blood, and the mothers that cry because their babies flew all the way out the pizza place' window, I knew. I don't want to be here any more. I deserve more than that. I want out. I will get out as soon as I can.

I want peace, but I've been wanting it too long. This country isn't going anywhere but hell. And I don't want to get there.