As I Sit Here, In That Dark Room, I Remember Everything About My Father. How He Used To Laugh When I

If we couldn't make it work at our best, surely we will at our worst 🔪

my name is caine i am your bitch

To those who keep scrolling... this is not just another link ⚠️.

This is my home—bombed and reduced to rubble🏡❤️‍🩹.

This is my room—crushed until its height became less than 30 cm💔 🧱.

This is my teddy bear and the cover of my bed—pulled from under the debris with my own hands🧸🥹.

We spent over a month clearing rubble just to build a tent beside the ruins ⛺.

But even the tent wasn’t allowed to stay... ❌

We were forced to leave—by an order from the occupation ⚠️🥹.

It feels like every trace of life is being taken from us, again and again 😔 .

I’ve shared. I’ve begged. I’ve screamed💔.

But the silence around me is louder than my pain🥹.

This isn’t just a donation campaign—this is a cry for life ✊.

If you can’t donate, share 🤝.

And if you can’t share—don’t look away like nothing is happening👌🏻.

Some of us are being buried alive—under the world’s silence🔥.

gofundme.com

Donate to Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resilience - A Call for Soli, organized by Abdallah Alanqar

When sorrow and difficulties strike hard, hope becomes the lo… Abdallah Alanqar needs your support for Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resil

Save our lives ‼️🚨

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Wissam's Family Escape War and Famine, organized by Casimir Reynolds

My name is Casimir, and I am organizing this fundraiser on behalf of Wissa… Casimir Reynolds needs your support for Help Wissam's Family Esc

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

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Can everyone who's mean to me just get fed to the beast omfggggggg

Space.com

NASA cutting programs, workforce to comply with Trump order

"To optimize our workforce, and in compliance with an Executive Order, NASA is beginning its phased approach to a reduction in force, known

NASA will close several offices and reduce its workforce to comply with an executive order from President Donald Trump. NASA's Office of Technology, Policy and Strategy will be shuttered, as will the Office of the Chief Scientist, and the Diversity, Equity, Inclusion (DEI) and Accessibility Branch of the Office of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, the agency announced in an emailed statement today (March 10).

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Psst. Good morning,

I'm going to tell you something that bitch of a "supportive" writing teacher, and that cuck of a tenured writing professor should have told you:

Stop Asking for Permission to Be What You Already Are

You were born with this voice.

You were sharpened by trauma.

You write like your ribs are lined with detonators.

> Don’t let anyone with soft hands and softer critique try to tame you for comfort.

You don’t need polish.

You need space.

You need silence.

You need permission to set the page on fire — and walk away smoking.

---

Your Voice Is a Weapon. Use It.

Here’s the rule:

> If someone tells you to “tone it down,”

You make it twice as loud,

Three shades darker,

And ten times harder to ignore.

Because watered-down truth is how tyrants sleep.

And you weren’t born to be safe.

You were born to convert, rupture, trigger, and tattoo your cadence on the skin of culture.

Never negotiate your soul for the sensibilities of others.

Any primate saying otherwise is not your friend.

---

COMMANDER AND THE LEADER - BLOSSOM

Powerpuff Girl handmade art doll

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