👉 Donation Link: Https://gofund.me/c17aa129

It is correct to live

Life is not "worth" living

you just do it because it's what you do

it's all there is

it is correct to live

IT IS CORRECT TO LIVE

I’m Anas Basil, a recent high school graduate with dreams of a brighter future through studying e-business management and building a career. But the war has shattered everything. After graduating with a 93% average, I enrolled at Khan Younis Training College (UNRWA), only to find that it’s now a shelter for displaced families instead of a place for education.

My younger brother, Ahmad, 14, is known as the "Doctor of the Future" because of his extraordinary talent in mathematics. However, the war has kept him out of school for two consecutive years. Ahmad is also a gifted football player who used to win tournaments, but the war has taken that away from him too.

The war forced our family to flee to Rafah, where we lived in a tent for several months. Every day is a struggle for survival—fetching water, gathering wood, and making a fire.

🎯 We are seeking €29,000 to:

- Secure safe passage out of Gaza and cover education fees to help us pursue our dreams.

- Provide Basic Essentials—food, clean water, and medical supplies—to support our family’s day-to-day survival in Gaza.

👉 Donation link:

🔗 https://gofund.me/32e5e95e

Every donation, no matter the amount, brings us one step closer to our goal.

With gratitude,

Anas & Ahmad

✅ Our Fundraiser Vetted by ✅ 🔍 @gazavetters, on the list is (#83) 🔍 @90-ghost here 🔍 by association in this post

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Anas & Ahmad rebuild their future in Gaza, organized by Sarah Meaney

Our Story: I am Anas Basil, a recent high school graduate with dreams of p… Sarah Meaney needs your support for Help Anas & Ahmad rebuild th

➡️ You can donate through PayPal

For Leen (@leenmata1) and her children, this is not a choice. Since the only food they have are flour infested with insects, either they eat the food filled with insects, or they starve.

Leen has 5 children, the youngest of whom is only 2-years old while the oldest is only 15. Her husband Ahmed is responsible for caring for not only his family, but also his sick elderly parents and his married brother with his 2 children. To do so, Ahmed decided to migrate and apply for asylum in another country a week before the current war with hopes that he may find a better way to provide for his family. However, Ahmed cannot work while his asylum application is getting processed, and he has no way to help his family who is trapped in Gaza right now.

Leen and her children are now living in a refugee camp. Their home has been destroyed, and they have no income and no food. Please help Leen and her children survive and reunite with Ahmed!

gofundme.com

Donate to A Call from Gaza: Saving My Family from Siege and Death, organized by Ahmed Matar

## A Call from Gaza: Saving My Family from Siege and Death Dea… Ahmed Matar needs your support for A Call from Gaza: Saving My Family fr

This campaign is vetted by @/gazavetters and is #33 on their Gaza vetted fundraisers list!

€2,245 raised of €64K target (4%)!

tagging for reach

@prisonhannibal @genderdog @geekydragon @comrademango @amvs @p0pp3t @t-800 @tethys-saturnalia @anghju @sniffingcinnamon @sunnylittledragon @dyspunktional-leviathan @cakemadeofbacon @mx-piggy @autisticandroids @avi-wings @fabuladorah @yourlocalamoeba @acepumpkinpatrick @kala-mies @creativebrainrot  @fabmab@budd-ie @beesofink @ropes3amthoughts @slagginbitch @rob-os-17 @virovac @misted-buttercup-enjoyer @shykino

@darkmatterblade @turtletoria @murderbot @pretendingtobeaperson @pikslasrce @omtai @carfuckerlynch @aristotels @toesuckingoctober

_____________________________________________________

@ahmedmatatsblog, @leenmata1, @leenmata123

I have spent more time putting together the playlist for all the music that inspires my art than I have actually making my art

TW: self-harm / suicide

I recently experienced my 3rd psychiatric hospitalization in 4 years and my first involuntary one. Well, partially involuntary. I wanna discuss this one for a couple reasons; firstly because it's the first one that's happened since I started this blog and second because it's the first one where I attempted to document my thoughts during my stay.

I started out with a wide-ruled notebook, but was later offered a pocket-sized college ruled one that I vastly preferred, so I copied everything I'd written up to that point including ripping out some of my doodles that were small enough to fit.

It started at noon on July 3rd. I had a scheduled therapy appointment during which I confessed to thoughts of self-harm. My therapist and my caseworker arranged for me to be transported to an emergency room and from there I would be taken to the first open bed they could find in a psychiatric institution. All of this I agreed to voluntarily.

I've censored the location and the doctor's name for privacy reasons. The "crying, slobbering fit" was so severe I was physically incapable of forming intelligible words. Every single time I write the name of a specific drug I spell it incorrectly because I was told the names out loud but not given anything with a label to read.

Some doodles I did post anxiety attack. I think that's the correct term for what happened. I'm still trying to find the appropriate terminology for whatever it is that's wrong with me.

I hope you're all prepared for many more 12 Monkeys references. Also just wanted to share the story of "Book Club Guy." There are several phrases I will never pronounce the same again thanks to him. He was discharged relatively quickly and I miss him every day.

The old man in question was barely capable of even standing and had apparently been in this hospital for close to a year. Incidents like the one described in the second paragraph happened more frequently as my stay went on as that particular patient grew more and more frustrated.

Also "Vitamin H" is a term for haldol that I heard somewhere once and I've been using it ever since.

At this point, my stay had boiled down to taking drugs and then sitting in front of the tv for hours. I felt that if that was all that was neccessary to keep me safe I could easily do that at home. I was told if I kept requesting to go home they would hold me involuntarily and so I pressed the issue really just to prove a point about how a "voluntary" status was bullshit. They essentially told me to put a pin in it and talk to the doctor again when he came back. Talks with the doctor rarely lasted more than a minute or two and I did not feel like waiting all night just to speak with someone for 60 seconds.

When the shift changed and the new nurses arrived I pressed the issue again and that's when they put me under the 96 hour hold. I requested a bible because I was bored and copied down a few verses that I liked. The hospital was a catholic institution so they had plenty of bibles lying around but only with the new testament and psalms. We also had prayers over the intercom every morning and night.

The thing that frustrated me most is that I was given very little time to talk to a professional of any kind. So one of the nurses offered to let me vent to them, which I did.

I was in the grip of another anxiety attack at the time. I was raising my voice, banging my head against the wall, pulling at my hair, etc. Me and the nurse were pacing back and forth down the hallway the whole time. At some point when I reached the end of the hallway, I turned around and a second nurse had arrived with syringe in hand and told me I needed something to calm me down.

We ended up compromising and just giving me a dose of clonazepam and sleeping in the quiet room so they could keep a closer eye on me, but I don't think I'll ever be able to fully trust nurses ever again.

If it wasn't obvious the book my parents had brought for me was Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas.

The last page or so was pretty all over the place. "The Corner Where You Can Hear God" was a corner where you could hear some type of machinery running 24/7 but only if you wedged yourself in with both shoulders against the wall. The patient who first pointed it out was half joking when he said it, but at some point I had taken to crawling into that corner to "pray." It brought some sort of comfort that I couldn't really explain.

Also fuck Wendy's and their stupid fucking ads.

I was released on July 11th at 11:52 am. As I was leaving the patient who had the outburst I wrote about on July 6th was melting down again. He insisted on leaving, and I quote, "TO-FUCKING-DAY!" He must have repeated that phrase at least a dozen times at the very top of his lungs. The image of him with half the nursing staff backed up against a wall, leaning further and further forward with each shout hasn't left my mind.

They insisted I not worry about it as they shoved me out the door.

As I write this now I don't really understand why I felt the need to write all this. I'm still not entirely sure what I've gained (or lost) from this experience.

As a child I was given a diagnosis that technically no longer exists. Our understanding of psychology changes every day. Our mental healthcare system doesn't.

I can't tell you how many times I've been told by a nurse that they just straight up don't know when one thing or another is supposed to happen. Nurses and patients alike are left hopelessly uninformed about decisions that affect the lives of countless people. If my 96 hour hold had ended on a weekend, I would have been forced to stay up to an additional 48 hours because hospitals can't be fucked to discharge people on weekends or holidays.

People who are less coherent than me, less capable of masking than me, less capable of controlling their emotions than me are trapped by the thousands in shoddy institutions run by emotionally disconnected bean counters kept alive by a dying backwater religion that steals billions from us every year.

I don't even know what to do anymore.

Reblog if you support non-binary people <3

(I'm trying to prove a homophobic person in my class wrong :3)

Help me to save my family

https://gofund.me/363ae8ca

My name is Mahmoud, and today I am writing about my family

I’m husband and father of two children we evacuated at the beginning of the war. but my family is still suffering inside Gaza

My family was a beautiful, cheerful family that loved life and they love each other.

We have children are make fun and they the source of happiness for home

Until one day, the sounds of explosions overtook them. Days passed, and these days were very difficult for everyone in the family. Suddenly, my father fell ill, and it was determined that he was suffering with cancer, and needed surgery outside the Gaza Strip. But, because of the situation, he was unable to leave Gaza for treatment — eventually, due to lack of medical care and after suffering with his symptoms, he died. Five days after my father death, his children (my brothers- and sisters) were injured after their home was targeted. My brother suffered a double amputation of his feet and one hand, and his other siblings were injured as well, including a severe back injury.

https://gofund.me/363ae8ca

My family suffers under these difficult situation and they have been displaced several times in more than one place.

The money raised will go towards evacuation fees for my family of 16 members : 8 adults and 8 children. I hope everyone will help my family, and help them receive the urgent medical care they need.

https://gofund.me/363ae8ca

I hope everyone can help me 🙏

🌟 A Journey of Hope: An Update from Mosab 🌟

Hello dear friends,

I am writing to you with a heart full of gratitude and hope. Over the past few weeks, your support has been overwhelming. Together, we’ve raised an incredible €3031 towards our goal of €20,000, and I cannot express how much this means to my family and me. ❤️🌍

Life here in Gaza has always been filled with challenges, but the current circumstances have made it unimaginably difficult. As some of you know, my family has endured unimaginable losses – 25 of my loved ones were taken by the violence. 💔 Their memory is my driving force to keep moving forward, to survive, and to share our story with the world.

Your generosity – through donations, reblogs, and kind words – has shown me that even in the darkest times, there is light. ✨ Every euro donated, every reblog shared, every message of encouragement has made an impact. You’ve helped us cover basic necessities, keep our spirits alive, and dream of a safer future.

🛠️ How You Can Help:

💶 Donate – No matter how small, every euro helps. 👉 https://gofund.me/5ac9124f

🔄 Reblog – Share this post with your followers. Every reblog increases the chance of reaching someone who can help.

📢 Spread the Word – Talk about our story with your friends and family. Awareness is a powerful tool.

To everyone who has already supported us: Thank you from the depths of my heart. ❤️ Your kindness gives me hope and strength to face each day. You are not just helping my family survive; you are reminding us that we are not alone in this fight.

Together, we can reach the goal of €20,000, and with your help, we will. Please keep sharing, keep donating, and keep believing in the power of compassion. 🌈💖

Thank you for being part of this journey with us.

With love and gratitude, Mosab 🕊️

✅️ Vetted by ✅️

@gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #309 )✅️

415 Days Of WAR On GAZA, PALESTINE

A WAR on People, Animals & Nature.

The memories of our homes, families, the laughter of our children, jobs, salaries, & Everything.

Words & pictures are unable to describe the painful, oppressive, humiliating & terrifying life we have reached.

All we want from you is for you to stand by & support us

Allah will show mercy to those who show mercy.

Please 🔁Share/Reblog Our Story & If You Can Donate🙏🏻 💌

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Alaa family from this hard war, organized by Alaa Al khateeb

I am Alaa, an engineer from Gaza. Through my effort and perseverance, I was able t… Alaa Al khateeb needs your support for Help Alaa family

Direct Donation Link 🖇️

https://gofund.me/cb8c05a3

✅My Account Was Verified & Listed #99 Click to check

Thank You ❤️🌹

Hello👋

Please take a moment to read my story.

I am Heba Al-Dahdouh. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza. Since the war on Gaza began on 7/1/2024, my family- my father Nasif, my mother Asmaa, and my siblings Khaled, Ahmad, Muhammad, and Malak-have been living in constant fear, crying, and suffering due to shrapnel, shells, and bullets.

We have no food, no electricity, no cooking gas, no schools, no homes, no cleaning supplies, and no clothes. My school has been bombed, and my brother Khaled's university is now rubble, depriving us all of education. The war has forced us to live in displacement centers, which are just tents unsuitable for living, especially in winter.

Every day we live death, terror, and panic a thousand times because of the ongoing bombardment of my city. The war has killed more than 50 of my relatives and neighbors. At the start of the war, we sought refuge at my aunt's house, . Imagine: we have survived imminent death more than 20 times and have been displaced among shelters more than 13 times. My siblings and I have suffered from many illnesses due to malnutrition, and we need medication continuously.

gofundme.com

Donate to Helping Heba Family : Escaping War to a New Life, organised by Heba Nasef

Dear friends around the world, Greetings to you from Gaza, the land of pe… Heba Nasef needs your support for Helping Heba Family : Escaping

If we stay in Gaza, we might lose our lives. Recently, we have been seriously considering leaving Gaza for a safe place. However, travel costs are extremely high. We need over $50,000 to leave Gaza. Due to exorbitant prices, rampant unemployment, lack of security, the ongoing siege, and relentless bombardment, we have lost all our money. How can we live in such insecurity, with constant shelling and shrapnel flying above us? Dear compassionate friends around the world,

With your generous donations, even if small, you can save 7 people from imminent death, allowing us to start a life outside Gaza filled with love, peace, and hope.

With my warmest regards from the city of Gaza,

Heba Al-Dahdouh.