Vetted By Association! Hamdi Is A Cousin Of @mohammedyasers (shared By 90-ghost).

Being a zolu lover in a zosan world is tough

walking my turtle

Verified by @gazavetters (#365)

From under the rubble, I write these words with a trembling heart...

My name is Mahmoud, I’m 29 years old, from Gaza. I have nothing left but my words and a little hope that kind hearts are still out there. The war didn’t just take my home — it took my dreams, my safety, and the life I once imagined.

Imagine waking up with no roof above you, no bed to sleep in, no food to eat, no door to close and feel safe behind.This is my reality.

This is what my family and I live through every single day.Some days we go for hours with nothing to eat. Sometimes we survive on a sip of water.I’m tired — tired of hunger, of fear, of cold nights and empty days.I’m tired of pretending to be strong when I feel like I’m breaking more and more inside.

I’m not asking for much. I just want to feel human again.

A safe place to sleep.

A warm meal.

Clothes that protect me.

A chance to breathe without fear.

It hurts to ask. It really does. But I’ve reached a point where I have no other choice.

💔Donate please 🙏

Even the smallest help means everything to me.

One dollar could mean one meal.

One share could mean one more chance.

If my words touched your heart, please don’t scroll away.

One kind heart could mean a night without fear.

Be the reason someone like me survives.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Mahmoud and His Family Survive, organized by Jovan I

Hello, my name is Jovan, and I'm fundraising on behalf of my dear friend Mahmoud. Mahmoud … Jovan I needs your support for Help Mahmoud and

Donation link:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/ch8x7k-help-mahmoud-and-his-family-survive

Me n who

To all Tumblr users 🪦

He sat in the dark, cold corner of the ruined room, his stomach empty, his heart heavier than the silence around him. Days had blurred into nights, and hope had long dissolved into despair. Just when he thought the end had truly come, a soft knock echoed on the broken door. A kind stranger, with warm food and a gentle smile, reached out a hand. For a moment, the world seemed to shift. He ate, he smiled, he slept without fear for the first time in weeks. He even dared to dream again.

But the knock returned , this time it was louder, crueler. Fire rained again. The stranger was gone. The little peace he’d clung to was shattered in seconds. The night grew darker than ever before, and this time, even dreams felt like betrayal.

This story mirrors our reality in Gaza. When the temporary truce was announced, our hearts bloomed with cautious hope. We embraced moments of stillness, started to believe that perhaps the nightmare was ending. But when the ceasefire ended, the bombs returned, louder, harsher, more merciless than before. The small light we held onto was ripped away, and the sorrow that followed was deeper than the one we’d known before hope ever dared to visit.

555 days of the war on Gaza, we live what no one can live, if you feel me and can help me, this is my fundraising campaign and my family, you can donate here any amount you can donate

Me signing up for free trials using different emails:

We should bring back slut shaming, like I will be put down if he continues.

dead

this is how we can spin this: if we convince all catholics in the world that jd vance killed the pope we can use them to defeat the nazis