The Greatest Part Of This Gif Sequence Is Not The Outfits. It's Not The Dancing. It's Not Geralt Trying

currently at €2, 213 / €50, 000 (08/09/24)

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Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸

I am Karim from Gaza,

I am 22 years old, a student in the College of Nursing.

I have two brothers, Aboud, who is 10 years old, and Hala, who is almost 12 years old. My parents are elderly.

We are living a tragedy in the October War.

My little brother suffers from malnutrition.

My mother lost my brother a few years ago due to the 2014 war.

His name is Aboud as well.

She gave birth again and named him Aboud after my brother who died due to the wars on Gaza. We do not want to lose my second brother.

You are our hope. We need your help in order to escape death and live in safety and peace.

We do not want more than to feel safe.

I am working to raise money for my family. I need money to save them from death. We are here in certain death every minute.

Please help us.

Hope will be spent on food and the largest part will be spent on passing through the crossing to exit Gaza and part on providing temporary housing.

I need you. My family and I need you.

Every donation saves a family.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help me get my family out of Gaza. Their lives have become v, organized by Rasha Saadeddin

I am Rasha Saad Al-Din. Help me get my family out of the Gaza… Rasha Saadeddin needs your support for Help me get my family out of Gaza. The

TAROT CARDS ✴ THE WITCHER

Can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh a fanfic where current Sherlock gets thrown into the past, sometime around where he met John, and he meets himself and is like….damn…..I really lived like this???? And everyone is shook at how different Sherlock is from the future.

Once more for those in the back.

currently at €927 / €10, 000

LOW FUNDS

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URGENT 🚨

Attention please 🙏

Hello, I am Etaf from Gaza, I am a mother of five children, the war has destroyed our lives and we have become without any means of life, the occupation destroyed our home and my husband's work, and stole everything we had, years of hard work gone in seconds, we recently fled to Egypt so that my children could feel safe after great fear and psychological trauma from the horrors of war, but we fled with nothing! Just to save our lives, now my children are asking for food that I cannot afford, and I sit and cry, they want education because they are excellent and love knowledge, but I do not know what to do, my hands are tied and I cry over our situation, a whole school year wasted on them in the war, now I want you to help us educate these smart children and contribute to paying the rent of the house, please help us, we are a humanitarian case that deserves to be supported, may God bless your life and make you happy throughout your life.

#save Palestinian #stop the genocide #stop wer #free gaza #I stand with palestine #khan younis #go fund them # all eyes on rafah #palestine news #stop gaza genocide #support #donate #donations #help#send help #give me attention #gazaunderattack #gaza #gaza relief #go fund me #gofundme #ngo# travel

#save gaza #heartbreak

#free Palestine

Read more about us in the following link, please donate to us on it and share it 👇

Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war.

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Donate to Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war., organized by Etaf Alqattaa

Hello, I am Etaf Al-Qataa,I'm from Gaza, Im34 years old ,a… Etaf Alqattaa needs your support for Please help us get out of life's crises

https://gofund.me/66214924

Hi 🍉❤️

I would be very grateful if you could make a reblogging for me

I hope anyone can donate even 5$ will make a big difference and reach the goal very soon

If you can’t please share with other maybe anyone can help 🙏🙏

I hope you can help my family 🙏🙏

Thank you in advance 🫶

https://gofund.me/83e942b4

currently at $62, 790 / $70, 000 (06/09/24)

ALMOST THERE FOLKS!

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youve heard of missionary position. now get ready for MERCENARY position

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.