Dead Poets Society - 1989

Please do not pass. Stop, watch and post. I need your help and support for me. If you cannot donate, post to your friends. We need you. We are in Gaza. Our situation is catastrophic. We no longer have a home 🏚or a source of livelihood.You have destroyed all our hopes and the dreams of my children. Please help me spread the donation campaign..

currently at €1, 675 / €20, 000 (11/09/24)

EXTREMELY LOW FUNDS

please donate if you can! please boost & reblog!

currently at $6,852 / $29, 500 (03/09/24)

LOW FUNDS

please donate if you can! please boost & reblog!

Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza

👇 "Unveil the truth – Dive into the full story."

gofundme.com

Donate to Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza, organized by Farhat's Family

In the heart of war-torn Gaza, where destruction and loss are a daily … Farhat's Family needs your support for Save Dr. Farhat's family fro

✅ This GoFundMe Verified (248) on this list 🔍 by @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @90-ghost

In the heart of war-torn Gaza, where destruction and loss are a daily reality, lies the deeply moving tale of Dr. Husam Farhat and his family. Amidst the relentless bombardment, Dr. Farhat faced an unthinkable tragedy: the martyrdom of his beloved sisters, Inas and Amal, along with their husbands and children, and his brother Mustafa. This devastating loss shattered not only their dreams but also their hopes for a peaceful future.

Life Before the War: Memories of a Beautiful Home

Before the war, my life revolved around a beautiful home where I lived with my wife, our daughter Sham, and our sons Muhannad and Muhammad. This home was more than just a place to live; it was a sanctuary filled with love, warmth, and the joy of watching my children grow. Every corner of our home echoed with their laughter, turning it into a place where dreams for the future felt not only possible but inevitable, but then the war came, and in an instant, everything changed. The place where we once felt safe and secure was reduced to rubble. The life we had carefully built, the dreams we had nurtured, and the bright future we had planned were all torn apart. The war didn’t just destroy our home; it uprooted our entire existence, leaving us with nothing but the painful memories of what once was, Now, standing in the ruins of our former life, I'm left with fragments of a distant dream. The joy and security we once knew have been replaced by loss and uncertainty as we face a future overshadowed by harsh realities.

The Loss of My Professional Dream and Life After the War

And it wasn’t just my home that was destroyed. My accounting office, one of the most renowned in Palestine, was also reduced to rubble. I had worked tirelessly to build this office, which wasn't just a place of business but a reflection of my passion and dedication to the field of accounting. It was our primary source of income, providing financial stability and security for my family, My office was well-known for its exceptional services and strong reputation among clients. Over the years, it had become a symbol of success and hard work in the accounting world. But the war took it all away in an instant. Everything I had worked so hard to achieve was destroyed, and years of effort and dedication were wiped out in moments, Now, I stand on the ruins of my office, just as I stand on the ruins of my life, trying to piece together the remnants of my dreams and memories. This office was a source of pride for me and my family, but the war has left us with nothing, facing an uncertain and difficult future.

War's Toll on My Dreams and Future

The war didn’t just destroy my home and office; it shattered my dreams and future. As a PhD candidate in Accounting Information Systems at Universiti Utara Malaysia, I was in my final year, pursuing research that is a significant contribution to my field and valuable to entrepreneurs. With a master’s degree with distinction and a bachelor's degree, I also taught at several universities, sharing my knowledge and passion, But the war disrupted everything. Years of hard work, academic progress, and my contributions to the field have been torn apart, leaving me with an uncertain future. Now, I am faced with the daunting task of not only rebuilding my life but also reviving the dreams and ambitions that once drove me. The journey ahead is filled with challenges, but my resolve to continue remains strong.

Displacement and Uncertainty After the War

Now, after all this devastation, my family and I are living as displaced people, homeless and jobless, with no clear future for ourselves or our children. Every day is a struggle to find food for my children, who have been robbed of every chance at a normal life by this war. Once, we lived in Shuja'iyya, in North Gaza, where we had a home, a life, and dreams. But now, after being displaced over nine times, we find ourselves in the refugee camps of Nuseirat, the war has stripped us of everything—our home, our security, and our future. Our daily life has become a constant search for basic necessities, a far cry from the life we once knew. The dreams I had for my children and myself now feel like distant memories, overshadowed by the relentless challenges of survival. Each day brings new uncertainties, as we navigate this harsh new reality, clinging to the hope that one day we might rebuild what was lost.

Rebuild Hope: A Call to Stand with Us

We urgently call on all those who stand in solidarity with us, and every supporter, to help save what remains of our lives. Your assistance, even in small ways, can make a significant difference in helping us rebuild and restore our shattered world, rebuilding feels like an insurmountable task, but with your help, we can begin to piece together what was lost. Your contributions, no matter how small, can provide the foundation we need to start anew, offering hope and a chance at a better future for our family. Your solidarity means the world to us as we navigate these challenging times.

👉 https://gofund.me/e9f9ce20

Thank you for your compassion, your time, and your commitment to freedom and justice.

With deepest gratitude,

Dr. Farhat's Family

Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza

👇 "Unveil the truth – Dive into the full story."

gofundme.com

Donate to Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza, organized by Farhat's Family

In the heart of war-torn Gaza, where destruction and loss are a daily … Farhat's Family needs your support for Save Dr. Farhat's family fro

✅ This GoFundMe Verified (248) on this list 🔍 by @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @90-ghost

In the heart of war-torn Gaza, where destruction and loss are a daily reality, lies the deeply moving tale of Dr. Husam Farhat and his family. Amidst the relentless bombardment, Dr. Farhat faced an unthinkable tragedy: the martyrdom of his beloved sisters, Inas and Amal, along with their husbands and children, and his brother Mustafa. This devastating loss shattered not only their dreams but also their hopes for a peaceful future.

Life Before the War: Memories of a Beautiful Home

Before the war, my life revolved around a beautiful home where I lived with my wife, our daughter Sham, and our sons Muhannad and Muhammad. This home was more than just a place to live; it was a sanctuary filled with love, warmth, and the joy of watching my children grow. Every corner of our home echoed with their laughter, turning it into a place where dreams for the future felt not only possible but inevitable, but then the war came, and in an instant, everything changed. The place where we once felt safe and secure was reduced to rubble. The life we had carefully built, the dreams we had nurtured, and the bright future we had planned were all torn apart. The war didn’t just destroy our home; it uprooted our entire existence, leaving us with nothing but the painful memories of what once was, Now, standing in the ruins of our former life, I'm left with fragments of a distant dream. The joy and security we once knew have been replaced by loss and uncertainty as we face a future overshadowed by harsh realities.

The Loss of My Professional Dream and Life After the War

And it wasn’t just my home that was destroyed. My accounting office, one of the most renowned in Palestine, was also reduced to rubble. I had worked tirelessly to build this office, which wasn't just a place of business but a reflection of my passion and dedication to the field of accounting. It was our primary source of income, providing financial stability and security for my family, My office was well-known for its exceptional services and strong reputation among clients. Over the years, it had become a symbol of success and hard work in the accounting world. But the war took it all away in an instant. Everything I had worked so hard to achieve was destroyed, and years of effort and dedication were wiped out in moments, Now, I stand on the ruins of my office, just as I stand on the ruins of my life, trying to piece together the remnants of my dreams and memories. This office was a source of pride for me and my family, but the war has left us with nothing, facing an uncertain and difficult future.

War's Toll on My Dreams and Future

The war didn’t just destroy my home and office; it shattered my dreams and future. As a PhD candidate in Accounting Information Systems at Universiti Utara Malaysia, I was in my final year, pursuing research that is a significant contribution to my field and valuable to entrepreneurs. With a master’s degree with distinction and a bachelor's degree, I also taught at several universities, sharing my knowledge and passion, But the war disrupted everything. Years of hard work, academic progress, and my contributions to the field have been torn apart, leaving me with an uncertain future. Now, I am faced with the daunting task of not only rebuilding my life but also reviving the dreams and ambitions that once drove me. The journey ahead is filled with challenges, but my resolve to continue remains strong.

Displacement and Uncertainty After the War

Now, after all this devastation, my family and I are living as displaced people, homeless and jobless, with no clear future for ourselves or our children. Every day is a struggle to find food for my children, who have been robbed of every chance at a normal life by this war. Once, we lived in Shuja'iyya, in North Gaza, where we had a home, a life, and dreams. But now, after being displaced over nine times, we find ourselves in the refugee camps of Nuseirat, the war has stripped us of everything—our home, our security, and our future. Our daily life has become a constant search for basic necessities, a far cry from the life we once knew. The dreams I had for my children and myself now feel like distant memories, overshadowed by the relentless challenges of survival. Each day brings new uncertainties, as we navigate this harsh new reality, clinging to the hope that one day we might rebuild what was lost.

Rebuild Hope: A Call to Stand with Us

We urgently call on all those who stand in solidarity with us, and every supporter, to help save what remains of our lives. Your assistance, even in small ways, can make a significant difference in helping us rebuild and restore our shattered world, rebuilding feels like an insurmountable task, but with your help, we can begin to piece together what was lost. Your contributions, no matter how small, can provide the foundation we need to start anew, offering hope and a chance at a better future for our family. Your solidarity means the world to us as we navigate these challenging times.

👉 https://gofund.me/e9f9ce20

Thank you for your compassion, your time, and your commitment to freedom and justice.

With deepest gratitude,

Dr. Farhat's Family

Just another episode of Junwan and Ikjun exorcising each other — Hospital Playlist Season 2, Ep. 9

also, a friendly reminder, the world we live in now consists of an active genocide.

of warcrimes being posted on twitter by the official account of israeli government.

of people looking at children, women and men being bombed, killed, starved and butchered and saying it is okay because of a single terrorist group, THAT ISRAEL CREATED.

of westerners saying to look away from the slaughter happening in gaza because your mental health is more important than thousands of lives.

of israeli politicians straight up using propaganda from nazi handbooks to dehumanise palestinians, calling them less than human, less than the rest of us, animals.

and what one palestinian man posted on his social media hit me more than anything: “if we actually were animals, people would care.”

🆘🆘SToP Don't SKiP

A small donation can make a big difference 🙏🍉🇵🇸

Hello, I am Dina, I am 25 years old, I have two children, I gave birth to my child during the war, under bombing and genocide. I support my children and my children have become without a place or security. My daughter is 2 years old and my son is 3 months old, I gave birth to him under bombing and no medical care for me and my child.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help me save my children from death in the Gaza war, organized by Isabella Perez-Bonet

Hello, I am Dina, I am 25 years old, I have two children, I g… Isabella Perez-Bonet needs your support for Help me save my children from dea

My children need basic needs such as milk and food. I currently live in a tent after I lost my home due to the occupation and I cannot tell you what life is like there. It is like hell. Very hot in the summer and cold in the winter. In addition, there are insects and snakes. It is suffering. I want my children to live and be able to survive. Save them from the war and provide them with their needs of clothes and food. I have been displaced several times, and every time I was escaping death and bombing amidst the screams of my children so that I could get them out of Gaza to a safer place, so I ask you to extend a helping hand to save them from death and so that my heart does not break or something bad happens to them. Help me with support and participation, and I thank everyone who has provided support for my children.

@90-ghost

Anyone who reblogs this post will have their user written on a poster saying "We Stand With Palestine" that I hope to put up somewhere in the village I live in, or the town that the village is next to.

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.