Very Important

Once more for those in the back.

i'd super appreciate reblogs for this one just to get input from a wider audience!

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.  

This is me every time I see Richie Lipschitz

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.”

Felt that it’s important to share videos like this too.

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

EXTREMELY LOW FUNDS

please donate if you can! please boost & reblog!

note: yet to be vetted but clean reverse image search & donation protected

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

Gaza has a large disabled population. Wissam is just one of tens of thousands, who need medication and care, facing the devastating choice of being slaughtered at home or out on the streets. All districts in Gaza but one have been declared combat zones.

Free Palestine interlude 🇵🇸🇵🇸

Edit: It's not a Jewish state, it's a Zionist one.

currently at €85 / €50, 000 (30/08/24)

EXTREMELY LOW FUNDS

please donate if you can! please boost & reblog!

note: still yet to be vetted but reverse image search seems clean

Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful story.

My name is Ahmed Khalil, I am 6 years old. I was at the beginning of my education, trying to learn, participate, and play with other children. My family consists of 8 members, including my mother and father. My father has diabetes, my brother Fathi is blind, my other brother Abdullah has autism, and my brother Mohammed was injured in his leg by shrapnel from rockets.

On October 7, 2023, the war began and has not stopped since. The airstrikes and Israeli shelling caused fear for me and my family. We could not endure the massive explosions that felt like recurring earthquakes and the red flames sweeping through the area. We were forced to flee to southern Gaza based on orders from the Israeli forces, leaving our beautiful apartments behind. We went to a UN refugee school in Deir al-Balah to escape the terror and death.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Ahmed Khalil's family evacuate to safety, organized by Mohammed Khalil

Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful sto… Mohammed Khalil needs your support for Help Ahmed Khalil's family

We stumbled into a different life full of suffering from every side, living through the most painful hell of war. I developed malnutrition due to contaminated water, poor hygiene, and the spread of infectious diseases with no suitable medicine available.

The situation is catastrophic and unbearable. “There is only death left in Gaza. Even death has become a privilege because it provides a sense of relief.” My older brother Mohammed and I begged our father to leave Gaza, but it was extremely difficult due to the high costs. My father lost all his property during the war, including his electronics repair center and apartment, which were completely destroyed, so he has nothing to help us travel out of Gaza. There is no safe place in the Gaza Strip.

I pray every moment for the end of this war and a ceasefire. The ceasefire is not just a call; it is a desperate cry to end the helplessness and despair spreading to every corner after more than 11 months of war. We flee from death every day, only to wake up the next morning to try to escape it again. My heart is heavy, unable to bear the recurring nightmares, and the overwhelming flood of news about blood, displacement, loss, and despair pouring from Gaza.

Every minute feels like a struggle. No one should have to endure this injustice, segregation, and discrimination. The ongoing shelling in southern Gaza and the intense bombardment of residential buildings in Deir al-Balah make everyone feel unsafe, believing they might be the next to face tragedy. Communications are cut off. We are exhausted and cannot bear more tragedies and losses. We are currently living in a classroom of the UN center, which is crowded with people, including my relatives and cousins. My poor father sees our pale faces and weak bodies and stands helpless due to the lack of money and resources.

I am still six years old, and I never thought I would witness such a brutal attack with complete disregard for human values. I am deprived of my basic rights, including health and education. I need to rebuild my life with my family abroad and receive better healthcare. Traveling to Egypt would cost at least $5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child, which is an enormous amount given the harsh living conditions and the blockade that has lasted for 17 years.

Therefore, I ask you to donate so that we can evacuate Gaza to safety. Please continue supporting our campaign by donating if you can and sharing it with your friends and family. Every contribution, no matter how small, helps us get closer to our next goal and brings us nearer to securing a safer future for my family.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Ahmed Khalil's family evacuate to safety, organized by Mohammed Khalil

Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful sto… Mohammed Khalil needs your support for Help Ahmed Khalil's family