Born To Be Chill, Forced To Be Overthinking And Anxious And Overwhelmed And Restless

If you were wanting to buy "deny defend depose" merch or send money to pay for Mangione's legal fees, consider instead donating to the Innocence Project. Instead of sending letters to him (he's probably getting plenty already), consider writing another incarcerated person who doesn't have the same media coverage!

My family is still staying in half of the church that wasn’t affected by the bombing because there is nowhere else to stay other than tents. They are limited to one small meal a day and one shower a week. They are sleeping on the floors, but no one can sleep since there is bombing everywhere around them. Even when there is no bombing, they can still hear the loud buzzing sound of the military planes above them, which would keep anyone who hears it awake. Along with everything, My grandma has diabetes and osteoporosis, so she can’t walk. She has to take her insulin medication along with many others; however, she has run out of many of her medications.” Am on my knees requesting for donation. Target $450

Please donate 🗣‼️

URGENT HELP SAVE THE LIFE OF MY CHILD.

Dear humanity,

Please Help Me – My Son May Die at Any Moment.

I'm Amal, a mother of three children, living under the weight of the genocide taking place in Gaza. 🍉

Here’s my story, and I’m reaching out with a hopeful heart 💔✨, hoping someone will feel what my family and I are going through.

My son is suffering from a severe and life-threatening injury after being shot by Israeli drones. He urgently needs medical treatment outside Gaza.

Time is running out, and we are facing a critical situation. I am asking for your generosity to help us save him either through a donation or by sharing this urgent plea with others

I beg you, i kiss your feet, to help my son. My son may die at any moment.

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

So I humbly ask you to donate even a little or at least reblog this appeal.

Please Donate now:👇

https://gofund.me/d272a0d1

Ddonate Via Paypal 👇

https://www.paypal.com/donate

PLEASE DONATE 🗣‼️

A Small Step, But Still a Step Forward" 💙✨

Every day feels like a battle—against loss, against despair, against the uncertainty of tomorrow.

But today, we’ve reached $1,580 out of our $90,000 goal. It may not seem like much, but to us, it means hope. It means someone is listening.

The journey is long, and the need is great. But every share, every kind word, and every bit of support reminds us that we are not alone.

💙 If you can, please help us move forward.

Chuffed

Donate to Help Mosab saving who's left of his family

My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my

🙏 I deeply appreciate your time and support. If this tag disturbed you in any way, I sincerely apologize. Please feel free to ignore this post if it doesn’t feel right for you.

✅️ Vetted by ✅️

@gazavetters

@bilal-salah0

Thank you for believing in us. Your kindness gives us strength. ❤️

Dawg how are you 22 with a wife and kids you should be outside playing

I'm alive. Here's amyhn from tn.

Its abt me being sad or whatever. Spurred on by having a heart to heart w my roomie

My love life is like sitting in the windows of a coffee shop on Valentines Day. 

You watch the people walk by wearing splashes of pink and swinging their arms full of gifts and look with their eyes full of stars. And its a shitty coffee shop too. With thin windows so u can hear them giggle their love and the hushed murmurs of chatter. 

You csn feel their hearts race and their pupils expand and the thoughts of "this is my person" to the tune of a perfect pair by beebadoobee. And yet. Youre sitting in an ambiently lit coffee shop with a bitter iced latte that melted thirty minutes ago, but im-youre still sipping on bc y-i cant let it go. 

Its also like working retail on Christmas Day. The store is empty. The shelves are barren but im still there in uniform tending to what remains. Lovingly dusting the shelves and picking up barcodes from stolen items. Every once in a while someone will come in, flustered and red from the cold looking for one last thing. Hot chocolate. Ghiradelli. A stocking. And even though it was out of stock earlier when you looked to uplift your mood, the shelf has one left. And now its gone. 

Again.

Then you return home and the gifts are opened. Theres wrapping paper eveywhere and it smells like dinner. Everyone is glowing like a buttercup is hovering below their bodies. And im still dull, dim, and dark from the soul sucking flourescents. 

Then i see my gifts in the corner. They sit in a dark corner and once you put your stuff down you open them in uniform. And no one is paying attention anymore. You blew it. You missed it. The moment, I mean. 

The gasps and sounds of awe as you show off your treasures. The snickers at gag gifts. The sighs at sentimental ones. All eyes on you for the only time you want it. 

But instead. Its a little dark. And youre sweaty. And hungry. And the air isnt as sweet or welcoming. Its stale. Like a chip with the flavoring licked off and put back in the bag. But no one is looking anyways, so it doesnt matter. 

Its also like graduation, but no one is in the audience. Youre dressed up and pretty, but you know that no one you love is coming. For whatever reason that may be. And you walk across the stage anyway and for some reason you stay and wait like someone is coming for you while everyone around cheers with their loved one and you stand in the middle of it. 

In the mix but not a part of it. 

And after a while of standing around you get in your car and get shitty restaurant food. And have a few shitty drinks. Then a few more. Then more. Then a cigarette or two or three or four. Then you drive home, hoping youll get hit, and stumble into the home to see that everyone got done w their mandstory obligations early. And just didnt come. 

Thats what it feels like. Watching a tv show u love but can't understand even tho its in your language. Reaching ror your phone on the nightstand and its just out of reach. 

Wanting, waiting, watching, and not having.

This is a longshot, would you be willing to help me get my insulin? I'm down to my last pen and its pretty much close to being empty.Nt asking for much only need $370 rn to save my blood sugar. please help me with a small donation or share my pinned any help can save my life.Please help & Blessings ❤Thanks

Unfortunately I don't have the funds, but I can share your pinned :) best of luck to you, please be safe🙏🏽🙏🏽

Hello. Here is smthn written and posted on the same day. Tw: metaphorical violence and cannibalism. (I promise it's not that bad I swear) Please enjoy.

You know, i shoud really stop extending my hand to people. What do i mean? I mean extending it open palmed and vulnerable and stretching my muscles to their limits just to reach someone or have them reach for me.

It hurts. The stretch, I mean. Pulling my fingers apart, tearing the sinue in an attmept to reach someone who has barely moved their hand from the body at all.

Now stretching isnt all that bad. Keeps the body nimble, less resistant to change or sudden movement. The main reason i want to stop is because they cut a piece of my arm off each time I reach.

Not every time, but when the person doesnt reach back they keep a piece of me. As a trophy or to embarass me further I cant decide.

Currently im missing everything past my left elbow. But thats only bc the first person i reached to took my entire hand in one go. My right arm is missing everything a little before that point.

It hurts even more when i was expecting to leave that situation with the same amount of arm i began it with.

But no.

Instead these beautiful women take dull cleavers and aimlessly hack at my arm until the piece they want has fallen off. It takes a while for my nerves to decide they were tired of feeling that intense ache.

Ive gotten used to it. The first time it hurt. I squirmed and fought back and called for help but was disregarded. This woman had called herself my girlfriend, my wife, my love. For months ! And now here she was taking my hand.

But now, as i watch blood spurt out of my stump and land on my face and hear my bones cracking and tendons screaming as she takes her earnings. She took earnings for the girl she actually wanted too.

Whats left is my shoulder to above where my elbow was on both arms. It hurts, the wound hasnt cauterized and my nerves are remidning me of my loss.

My face is wet too. I think im crying. I havent done that since the first time. But, i will get over it. I always do.

The wound crusts over and falls away, revealing my new skin and shorter stump. The pain subsides but it returns for a body part i no longer have. Almost like my body misses it.

I learn to live without those things lost. I learn to eat, feed, read, dress, clean, please with my stumps. And im miserable. And awful. And anxiety ridden. Worrying about if someone will soon return and take whats left of me. What will they do once they reach my shoulder ? Keep cutting ? Dig inside the stump for pieces of flesh and organ from the source rather than bothering with my skin, a reminder that im human.

The only constant is that they or she or he will stuff their maws of my meat and savagley lick away the remnants of me with a hand over my mouth to not spoil the meal (or to hide from the reminder that im unwilling, displeased, and alive). Only to discard me with less than i began with. Which already wasnt much.

And yet. I always find myself reaching a short time later. Always needing something that seems to be forever out of reach.

🚨 It’s urgent 🚨

Don’t skip please 🙏💔

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Feed & House Moataz and Hoda!, organized by Adam M

My name is Motaz, and my wife is Huda. We got married only three months before the war. We d… Adam M needs your support for Help Feed & Hous

Hi all,I’m Huda from Gaza. My husband and I were eagerly waiting the arrival of our first child after 9 months of suffering, malnutrition, diseases,but I lost him last week. My first child died coz of this war. I suffered from blood poisoning and was given a blood transfusion after giving birth.

It’s not easy to wait your first child and suddenly you lose him💔😔 My husband and I have lost our first baby after 9 months of pregnancy 💔😔 so help us please to find a safe place and rebuild our lives 💔

For the sake of humanity help me and my husband, share and donate to be able to start again and rebuild our life please 🙏

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Feed & House Moataz and Hoda!, organized by Adam M

My name is Motaz, and my wife is Huda. We got married only three months before the war. We d… Adam M needs your support for Help Feed & Hous

Share please 🙏

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i think a lot of liberals need to confront the fact that they don’t actually believe everyone should have basic human rights. a homeless person could call me every slur under the sun and i would still want them to have housing, food, etc. the belief that everyone is entitled to basic human rights should not hinge on whether you “like” someone or not. at that point the entire ideology crumbles.