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More Posts from Keezychid and Others

keezychid

1 year ago

it's me, I'm guys

guys who will bury their face in your chest or neck for no apparent reason 👍🏽 yum

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keezychid

1 year ago

One thing I never lost through my transition was my desire to have kids. I was so set on being a mom as a child, I absolutely loved baby dolls and I always begged my parents to have another baby so I could take care of them. My dad gets sad sometimes because according to him, I used to have such passion for being a mom and for loving kids. But "used to" isn't even close. It's all still there. I'm gonna be the one cradling kids to my chest and singing lullabies. I'm gonna be the one kissing bruises and telling my kids how proud I am because getting hurt means they tried, and that's so brave of them. I'm gonna be the one making sure any child I look out for knows they are loved and cherished and valued. The only difference is now they'll call me Dad instead of Mom.

Leaving behind the echoes of laughter and camaraderie, I embarked on a painful journey southward, bidding farewell to the streets where I grew up😓💔, the corners where I sought refuge, and the colleagues who felt like family. Memories of my formative years and the countless lives I touched during my tenure at Al-Shifa and other medical facilities flooded my mind😥, as I struggled to come to terms with the sudden upheaval.

Despite the adversities that besieged me, I persevered in my pursuit of healing. My determination led me to Al-Azhar University, where I embraced the role of a teaching assistant, imparting knowledge to aspiring medical students with unwavering dedication. Dreams of specializing in internal medicine beckoned me back to Al-Shifa Hospital, but alas, the brutal onslaught of war reduced it to rubble, shattering my aspirations in its wake.

In the chaos and carnage of conflict, I sustained injuries, and the sanctuary of my home was obliterated, leaving my family and me destitute and displaced. Yet, amid the ruins, a flicker of hope persists. At Al-Aqsa Hospital, I continue to extend a helping hand to those in need, drawing strength from the resilience instilled in me through years of education and service.

Today, we find ourselves sheltering in a humble tent, stripped of our possessions and livelihoods. The loss of my job, my home, and the comforting presence of my loved ones weighs heavily on my heart. Nevertheless, I refuse to surrender to despair, clinging to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.

It is with a heavy heart that I reach out to you, dear reader, seeking assistance in securing safe passage for myself and my family from the turmoil of Gaza. With your kindness and generosity, I hope to reclaim the path to realizing my medical vocation, enabling me to provide for my loved ones and contribute to the healing of our wounded world.