One direction, your turn now
Es reconfortante sentir el amor a tu alrededor
El abrazo de mi madre y la seriedad amorosa de mi padre
Como una taza de chocolate caliente en un día lluvioso
O una manta de la abuela que te cubre del frío invierno
El apoyo infinito de un hermano bajo una noche llena de oportunidades
Es cálido saber que a uno lo aman, y tan satisfactorio como estar parado debajo de la sombra de un árbol
Rosas en mi huerto que me recuerda a mi abuelo
Saber que existe un lugar llamado hogar al que siempre puedo regresar
🇵🇸
My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.
I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.
My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.
I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.
This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.
I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.
Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.
you say you don’t want a boyfriend, but you know that’s not true - Charlotte Green/the voice - Anaïs Nin/the unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath - Sylvia Plath/tolerate it - Taylor Swift/the unabridged journals of sylvia plath - Sylvia Plath/the unexpurgated diary of anaïs nin - Anaïs Nin/ @treebloods/@lovebeing-a-girl/@ sanwtch on instagram/ @onlyanothermundane/@tullispink/I am an observer, but not by choice - @fatimaamerbilal/the prophecy - Taylor Swift/criss cross - Lynne Rae Perkins/Vladimir Mayakovsky in a letter to Lili Brik/what I could never confess without some bravado - Emily Palermo/little weirds - Jenny Slate
requested here
“this fic was written by AI”
I'm obsessed with the RF KUANG write sooooo here's another one
hey poppy war fandom,,,,,,, I’m here to serve you some pain
"Do you ever dream of land?" The whale asks the tuna.
"No." Says the tuna, "Do you?"
"I have never seen it." Says the whale, "but deep in my body, I remember it."
"Why do you care," says the tuna, "if you will never see it."
"There are bones in my body built to walk through the forests and the mountains." Says the whale.
"They will disappear." Says the tuna, "one day, your body will forget the forests and the mountains."
"Maybe I don't want to forget," Says the whale, "The forests were once my home."
"I have seen the forests." Whispers the salmon, almost to itself.
"Tell me what you have seen," says the whale.
"The forests spawned me." Says the salmon. "They sent me to the ocean to grow. When I am fat with the bounty of the ocean, I will bring it home."
"Why would the forests seek the bounty of the oceans?" Asks the whale. "They have bounty of their own."
"You forget," says the salmon, "That the oceans were once their home."
It’s like autumn arriving. You expect nothing from its arrival. You expect everything.
Alejandra Pizarnik, Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962–1972; Extracting the Stone of Madness; from ‘Extracting the Stone of Madness’, tr. Yvette Siegert
Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2024
reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol
. . . . . I hope you are having a nice day! Be kind to yourself and others 🫀
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