My Meeting With My Fyp Supervisor Is Tomorrow & I'm Sick, I Can't Take Anymore Damage Pls

This is not a natural disaster. This was not inevitable. They didn't grow up like this. It was inflicted on them by the vilest sadists on earth.

Please do not ignore me 😞💔🙏

My mother makes us bread despite the difficult situation and the lack of necessities of life 😔

The war has entered its 11 month and everything is getting worse 💔

@sar-soor @nabulsi @el-shab-hussein @fairuzfan @90-ghost @ibtisams @northgazaupdates2 @alhabeilfamily @aria-ashryver

gofundme.com

Donate to Help a family from Gaza, organized by Yaser Matar

Hello, I am Ibtisam Al-Habil. My suffering began in 2014 when my husband was martyred, and I was … Yaser Matar needs your support for Help

Anger

I had a breakdown again earlier today.

Like something hot and red and ugly and just so much hatred with no target to shoot it on. For some reason I thought is this how Jason Todd had felt? Or maybe is this how Bruce Wayne felt once he grew up and realized how on earth does people like Joe Chill can get away with so little and he in that one night, lost everything he knew?

With so much hatred and anger and just this huge hole in your heart that felt more like it was ripped away from you rather than just being taken? Is this how being angry at the world feels like? Angry at everything that has happened? Is this how craving for vengeance feels like?

I remember being told that revenge has a smell and it is sweet, and almost dizzying like an aphrodisiac.

I remember clutching the front of my shirt and felt how stuck my scream felt in my throat and I can’t just scream it out with my brother across the hallway and my sister downstairs.

I can’t do this, I can’t keep this in, I can’t keep on doing this.

I remember a time we were told that the whole family has anger issues.

Dad is a bomb, ticking and ticking with the time always border lining on 0 every time he tries to pushes us too far to the edge and he seems eager for us to push him back in retaliation.

Mom keeps it in until something bad & ugly & stupid & disrespectful happens from us, and there comes the screams and the glares and the disappointment.

My brother’s anger is physical, he hits you and pulls in some punches just to make you hurt the same way he does.

My sister’s anger is physical as well, but in the way it’s childish because still, she is still a child.

More often than not, her anger pushes dad’s clock to 0 as well and that will sometimes reign in Mom’s disappointment and if it isn’t her pushing it to explode, it will be my brother’s idea of rebellious retaliation.

And I’ll stand there.

Just a soldier, standing still in the minefield as the shots keep flying and the bombs kept giving way.

Silence become my defense as it was never really my weapon.

And growing up with the understanding how much power and destruction a bomb can hold, well I know how dangerous a wrath’s path can be.

So, I reign it in. So, I push every single pure, pure anger that threatens to boil to the surface.

My grief sometimes overcome my anger I think, enough so that I forgot that I can be angry sometimes.

My anger, I think, is physical as well.

My anger, I think, is the opposite of who I fights to become.

My anger, I think, is not a bomb, or a silent glare or a bursting scream.

My anger creeps in, my knuckles throb with every poison that rushes through my vein.

I don’t get angry, I don’t, I won’t, I never.

I don’t get angry because if I do, I don’t know how I’ll face the aftermath of it.

I can feel it, when it pulses, when it tries to fight through the restraints. I can feel it when my veins are filled with adrenaline and the want, the need to just, hurt. I can feel it and I know it’s there ‘because I can feel my eyes harden, I can feel my legs muscle constrict with the will to run towards the anger itself, I can feel my grip tightens around on itself ‘because I want to hit and punch and injure and hurt, hurt, hurt.

And I buries it in.

I learn to let out the insults because it soothes the fire but if you’ve been trapping the flames in an oxygen cavity and keep adding to it without ever giving it a chance to see the light of day, a verbal fight does little to calm it.

I learn that after letting out the insults, to give it time, time to turn it into guilt and grief instead.

Dr K thinks that what I’m doing might as well be the equivalent of driving a brake-less car down the hill only to run into an explosion then crashes down into the ocean with nowhere to escape out of the car.

Like letting in the adrenaline rushes through you only to trap everything in and let it consumes you.

I’ve told her that the analogy was exaggerative, I think.

I’ve crashed at the moment now.

I think it’s ironic that I used the rain and the sound of the crashing waves to calm me down.

I hate being angry.

I hate it because it isn’t me but it proves that it’s a primal instinct of mine when I didn’t bother with my mask.

All of us have masks.

I’ve seen Dad used it around his colleagues or when the topic of Grandpa comes up or when Grandma was talking about her time just around the corner.

I’ve seen Mom used it around her ‘friends’, true or not, and I’ve seen it around us when she’s far too tired and she’s far too aware of her greying hair.

I’ve seen my brother using it the most around us, never being able to settle into his skin even with those who he should trust the most.

I’ve seen it with my sister, the way she brushes off any signs of emotional vulnerability other than irritation ‘because she thought everybody would use it as a weapon against her intelligence.

I’ve seen it in the mirror of the 5-star bathroom at school, the one everybody goes to because it’s the only ones that works. Most of the time, anyways.

I’ve seen it on my friends and I’ve seen it crumbles in the anticipation of days leading up to what was the most important event of our lives as high school students back then.

Someone asked me, if I’ve cried it yet, implying if I’ve succumbed to the world-heavy pressure of the future yet. If I’ve sat down and bawled my eyes out as I realized how short on time we always seemed.

I told them, no.

There are a few strays of tears I’ve let past in the days leading up to it but I know if I sat down properly and let it out – I don’t know how much it’ll take for me to stand up again. Or if I’m ever strong enough for it anyways.

I hate grief.

And I hate my anger even more.

And as my vision blurs with the tears in my eyes that I won’t let out, and my knuckles are white as I grip the box holding in the razors tightly – I wish, I wish I never knew how safe and suffocating a mask can feel.  

Hello, my dear friend 🌟

I am Mahmoud Jihad from Gaza, currently living in displacement camps after losing my home, university, my PC, and my city. I was studying Information Technology and caring for my sick father and siblings.

I am raising funds to help my family and to escape from Gaza, as well as to continue my studies abroad 🎓. I started a GoFundMe campaign for this purpose. Your support can make a significant difference ❤️.

My campaign has been verified by @beesandwatermelons ✅.

Please share, like, comment, and donate even a small amount 🙏.

Could your support save my family and help us survive in this fierce war 😔?

GoFundMe link: https://gofund.me/463cbf01

Thank you! 🌹

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Mahmoud and his family escape Gaza & continue education, organized by Renee Hassert

Help Mahmoud Jehad and his family to leave Gaza to study and … Renee Hassert needs your support for Help Mahmoud and his family escape Gaza

currently at $674 / $25, 000 (30/08/24)

EXTREMELY LOW FUNDS

please donate if you can! please reblog & boost!

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸

I am Fidaa from Gaza. I am 29 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve his family. I am married and a mother of two children, Sila, who is two years old, and a child named Muhammad Amr, 2 months old. I gave birth to him during the war and in very harsh conditions that no human being can bear. I moved from the hospital directly to the tent, and I cannot describe the extent of the suffering and difficulty of living in the tent🇵🇸💔💔

We try to live under miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis, south of Gaza. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza. No food, no medicine, no clean drinking water, oppression, helplessness, psychological pressures, doubts, and daily trauma due to the loss of loved ones. In Gaza, it's not just hunger, disease and fear; Rather, it means actual death.

We have been forced to move more than 7 times, and my house has been completely destroyed, and I cannot provide enough milk, diapers, medicines, and vitamins for my children.💔🍉🇵🇸😭

Now, I find myself in this difficult situation, and I strongly and humbly ask for your help to save the lives of my family, especially my children, by getting us out of Gaza. The situation in Gaza has become unbearable due to slow death as a result of hunger, thirst, displacement, the spread of diseases and continuous bombing.🍉🇵🇸💔

The past months have been full of hell and horror. This war has gone on for too long, and our mental health and lives are constantly at risk. We have reached a point where there is no hope anymore in Gaza, as if we are waiting for death. Even if a ceasefire is reached, the devastation in Gaza in all its forms cannot be quickly repaired

Please help me and my children to get us out of genocide🍉🇵🇸💔

Your help will contribute greatly to alleviating our suffering. I hope you will share my story with your family and friends.💔💔

I will be forever grateful for your kind assistance in this difficult time🇵🇸🇵🇸

Thank you for your kindness and generosity❤️.

Donation link 🇵🇸👇

https://gofund.me/94b9dfe0

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-fidaa-and-her-children?

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Fidaa and her children, organized by Abby Stagner

I am Fidaa from Gaza. I am 29 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve hi… Abby Stagner needs your support for Help Fida

currently at $20, 992/ $31, 000 donate if you can! boost and share!

gofundme.com

Donate to Support Mohi's Fight for Survival in Gaza, organized by Kalie Ganem

My name is Kalie from Baltimore, MD, and I'm raising money for my friend Mohi fr… Kalie Ganem needs your support for Support Mohi's Fight fo

$15,092/$31,000

Vetted by 90-ghost

@mohiy-gaza 's campaign is half way to reaching it's goal. Thanks to everyone's support, his family is one step closer to evacuation. It is important to keep the momentum going so that Mohiy can raise the remaining amount as swiftly as possible. There is no safe place left for them. Evacuation is vital for the safety and health of his family, especially his mother who faces deteriorating health the longer she is denied access to the treatment and medication she needs to help with her chronic illness.

BREAKING: The massacres committed by israel from Tuesday’s dawn till now - 84 Palestinians killed!

14 martyrs, including the sister of the head of the political bureau of Hamas, in the bombing of a house in the Beach camp, west of Gaza City.

12 martyrs, most of them children and women, as a result of the occupation bombing of a school to shelter displaced people in central Gaza City.

More than 30 martyrs, most of them women and children, in 3 massacres committed by the occupation by bombing two homes and a shelter center in different areas of the Gaza Strip.

3 martyrs after the occupation bombed a group of Palestinians on Al Wahda Street in Gaza City.

Gaza Civil Defense: Our crews recovered 13 martyrs as a result of three attacks in Gaza Governorate.

The number of victims of the massacre in the Bani Suhaila roundabout in the center of Khan Yunis rose to 10 martyrs and dozens of wounded.

Two martyrs in an Israeli bombing that targeted a house in the Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City.

BREAKING: 15 Killed in Al Shati’ camp including 9 from Ismail Hineyah’s Family.

The Haniyeh family members were killed after the bombing of their home in the shati’ camp, west of Gaza, included the sister of the head of the Hamas political bureau Ismail Haniyeh and his wife, their names:

Zahr Abdel Salam Haniyeh (Nahed’s mother)

Nahed Ghazi Haniyeh

His wife, Iman Ahmed Haniyeh

Muhammad Nahed Haniyeh

Ismail Nahed Haniyeh

Moamen Nahed Haniyeh

Zahr Nahed Haniyeh

Shahad Nahed Haniyeh

Amal Nahed Haniyeh A number of them are still under the rubble