Masturbation Is So Weird What Do You Mean It Can Put Me To Sleep AND Wake Me Up
Masturbation is so weird what do you mean it can put me to sleep AND wake me up
More Posts from Seanheexsists and Others
vetted palestine gfms • january 7th 2025
a list of the vetted fundraisers i got on my askbox, listed in alphabetical order
1990lela — gfm
abedallhferwana1 — gfm
abujaradfamilyfromgaz — gfm
ahmed-almeshal — gfm
aiamaher2 — gfm
ayo0osh — gfm
etafpalestine — gfm
fadoo-1992 — gfm
familyrantise2003 — gfm
hadeelali3 — gfm
haneenalbrqouni — gfm
hazem55 — gfm
kisirahaf — gfm
krispynutmaker — gfm
mahmoidjesy — gfm
mariaamismaeel1122 — gfm
marwanasla — gfm
mohammed-family — gfm
mohammedayyads-blog — gfm
msbfamily — gfm
noor-yashour — gfm
omarfamily2 — gfm
omarmohammed2018 — gfm
reallyoptimisticface — gfm
reem-reem-0 — gfm
rehabsh1 — chuffed
savehillesfamilly25 — gfm
savemohammedalkhaldi — chuffed
shareeffamily — gfm
siraj-s4 — gfm
swimmingblazenut — gfm
teenagebreadwitch — gfm
youseffamily3 — gfm
walafamily-94 — chuffed
wejdan21 — gfm
Target has helped so many save money since they want to kiss the ass of Trump. Costco is better anyway.
Here’s a real boycott list
P.s: obviously everyone can’t boycott everything but one also didn’t need that Tito’s Vodka or Wendy’s 😉
⏰ 🚨 attention please🙏🚨
I am Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb,🩸💉 a dedicated specialist in emergency medical care from the Gaza Strip.
💊 🩺🩹
For years, I poured my heart and soul into my work at Al-Shifa Hospital, striving to be a doctor of great repute,
caring for the wounded and the ill with compassion and skill.💉🩹
However😥,
the devastation of war disrupted our lives and prevented us from serving our patients at Al-Shifa Hospital😣💔,
forcing me to leave my cherished home and the familiar walls of the hospital that had become my second home, a place of comfort, peace, and beautiful memories of my work.😔
As I left behind the echoes of laughter and camaraderie with my colleagues, patients, and friends,😰
I embarked on a painful journey southward. I bid farewell to the streets where I grew up, the corners I sought refuge in😥😭💔, 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, such as Friends of the Patient Hospital and the Indonesian Hospital, overwhelmed me as I struggled to come to terms with the upheaval.😔😥
Despite the adversities that besieged me,
I held fast to my dream of becoming a successful doctor. 😀😁✌💚
I was fortunate enough to study medicine at Al-Azhar University, from which I graduated and later served as a teaching assistant, imparting knowledge to aspiring medical students with unwavering dedication. 😀🙏🖤
The idea of specializing in internal medicine drew me back to Al-Shifa Hospital, but sadly,
the brutal war destroyed it, shattering my hopes.In the midst of the chaos and destruction brought by war🥺😣💔
I sustained multiple injuries and narrowly escaped with my life. 🥺
The sanctuary of my home, a place of peace and beautiful memories, was completely destroyed, leaving my family and me impoverished and homeless. 😣💔😰
Yet, amidst the ruins, a glimmer of hope persists as I continue my work at Al-Aqsa Hospital😀, extending a helping hand to those in need without expecting anything in return. I draw strength from the humanity and love instilled in me by my teachers and mentors during my years of education and service.✌😁❤
Today, we find ourselves taking refuge in a humble tent, ⛺ 😭😣💔
stripped of our possessions and livelihoods. The loss of my job, my home, and some of my loved ones is a heavy burden to bear. 😢
Nevertheless, I refuse to succumb to despair, holding on to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.
With a heavy heart, I reach out to you🥺🙏💚
dear reader, seeking your assistance in securing safe passage for myself and my family from the chaos and brutality of war in Gaza. 🥺🙏🇵🇸🍉💔🖤💛💝
With your kindness and generosity🥺, I hope to reclaim the path to achieving my medical career, 🩺💉🩸
becoming a specialist in internal medicine, and returning to help my people.
This would enable me to provide care for my loved ones and contribute to the healing of our wounded nation.Your compassionate aid would mean the world to me and my family.🥺🙏❤🇵🇸✌
Please note that our campaign is vetted
Thanks @90-ghost ... link vetted
Thanks @el-shab-hussein ...link vetted
Thanks @mangocheesecakes ...link vetted
Thanks @horrorhorizon...link vetted
Thanks @nabulsi (number 212)
With gratitude and hope,💜💙
Dr. Mohammed AldeebGaza Strip
WhatsApp: 00972599095244
the edit itself
this edit is getting taken down from tiktok every time someone reuploads it, its straight up censorship at this point
Im not even american but im having a great time with this
DONT LET THIS DIE
credit to miraculousgastropod for the original
Lou Sullivan's books for free! 🏳️⚧️💜
1. Information For The Female To Male Cross Dresser And Transsexual, 3rd Edition
2. We Both Laughed In Pleasure: The Selected Diaries of Lou Sullivan 1961-1991
3. From Female to Male: The Life of Jack Bee Garland
Everyone told me testosterone would make me angrier. My family has a habit of attributing any anger I feel these days to the testosterone. I didn't feel any angrier, but my mother would still tell me that no, I am angrier now, and testosterone did make me angrier and *she* could tell.
A week or two ago, I got my proof to the contrary. I'd been having a difficult day, woke up late, and had to rush out the door, ran into minor inconvenience after minor inconvenience, and then the straw broke the camel's back.
I wrote out the kind of angry vindictive seething text message I used to write constantly. I didn't send it, of course, I copied it out and pasted it in the folder of my notes where I put all my rage venting.
And then I thought.
Huh, it's been a little while since I did that. And I checked the time and dates on my previous notes. The last one was a few days before I started testosterone.
And scrolling back, I noticed that they were *constant* at least one a week for *years* I used to get so angry that I would get the serious urge to say cruel hurtful things to or about people I cared about on a near-daily basis. I didn't realize how big of a problem it was until all of a sudden I hadn't gotten that angry in Eleven Months. Nearly a YEAR.
And then I realized in my rush to get out the door in the morning, I hadn't taken my T shot. My testosterone was the lowest it's been since August.
All of a sudden, I had demonstrable proof that testosterone really did make me less angry. That all that "you may not think you're any angrier but you are" was bullshit.
I feel like I should be angrier about this than I am. I know how angry I used to get. About everything. I just felt it again for the first time in a while. For once, it would feel justified to be that angry. But I'm not. I'm not mad. I'm just... disappointed, I guess.
A Reflective Poem on Mamá Filled with What I Wish I Could Say
TW: Grafic Topics
Growing up is so weird because what do you mean my mother is a bio essentialist.
Granted I should’ve seen that coming with the Wicca stuff and the “divine feminine” and the needing to know all my friend’s bio genders and blatant misogyny to other women but like, I’m trans. She named me Sean because it’s my dead uncle’s middle name. She helped me learn how to dress masculinely. Why is it now I’m getting told to “ditch the facial hair” and that I “shouldn’t start testosterone now” and I “should tone down the eyeliner”.
Mamá you filled my head with stories of you being goth in the 90s and showed me the metal cds you got then. Why can’t I do that? Why do you have to look and me and see nothing but a mess of emotions? Will it still be that way when my voice drops? When my facial hair grows in? When my name is changed? How “inate” are these traits you’ve put on me? And why do you keep them there? You don’t even know who I am and you act like you know everything. You don’t.
Growing up is weird bc what do you mean my mom is a narcissist?
Everyone said my dad was one, and they were right, because I ended up being one too. The all-importance, the thinking you can do no wrong, that masculine snark that everyone takes as confidence, I thought it was his, and it is his, it’s mine. It’s the one connection I still have with my dad, my window of understanding of who he is and was, and why he made those decisions at my age. Why I’m never going to be like him
But Mamá what you have is worse. Your narcissism says you can never be wrong. That I in my 19 years of life can never know as much as you do. But if I told you of the clubs and the drugs and the queers I love and the friendships that I hold dearest to my heart you’d never trust me ever again. The shame you carry with you is harder than any shoe thrown in a frightening joke. Mamá I know you lie about my dead uncle. And I know it’s not on purpose, he was absolutely like me. He partied so hard and loved so feverishly that you didn’t know the full extent until he died. He had to die for you to know him. I know he hid from you the way I hide from you, out of self preservation because your way is the all knowing, the divine, and god forbid you learn the nuance of life
Growing up is weird because what do you mean my mom is bisexual
She told me about it when I was 12 and came out to her. She was the first person to explain trans people to me. Maybe that’s why she hates me being trans, I don’t do it in her definition. I was too young, I was too feminine, and even now the heels and the skirts and the wigs and the endless eyeshadow pallets are a testament to how I’m not the “right kind” of trans. Does she know it’s not because I’m secretly going to “switch back” to being a girl. Does she know that I do drag. Does she know about my three drag dads. Does she know about the trans women I cry to when she says I don’t have my life together. Does she know why.
Mamá I will never tell you why. I will never tell you about being groomed and trafficked and drugged with a fake prescription and doing all the house work for a woman I was terrified of. You met that woman. I said she was my roommate. But even if you knew the truth you wouldn’t have helped me. You would’ve shamed me. That’s all you ever do, that’s all you’re ever filled with, and no matter what happens to me it’s all you have to offer now. The shame for my clothes for my hair for my body if you ever saw it for the parts of me you can’t see and never ever will
Growing up is strange
Because what do you mean my mom is abusive too
She was never supposed to be that
Mamá do you know that I want to die?
Seamstress Chappel Roan be like you can make a dress with 15 yards
vehicular manslaughter chappell roan be like you can hit a hundred boys with cars
What Strength Really Means 💪
✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters {537} ✅️
Hey everyone, my name is Abdelmajed. I don’t usually talk much about myself, but today, I want to share a little piece of my story.
I was born and raised in Gaza, a place that has always been my home 🏡. I grew up surrounded by my family, my friends, and the streets that I knew like the back of my hand. Life wasn’t always easy, but we had love, laughter, and dreams. I used to think that no matter what happened, home would always be here. But life has a way of changing things in ways we never expect.
Over the past months, everything I once knew has disappeared. The streets that were once filled with children playing are now silent. The houses that held so many memories are now just rubble. And the people I loved—some of them are gone forever. 💔
✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters {537} ✅️
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He/Him, Transmasc Dyke, 19yo A personal blog of mine to document my journey on testosterone, plus other shenanigans:))
217 posts