Verified Ways To Send Aid To Gaza Directly

i wake up thirsty and i think of palestine. i go to the doctor’s office and i think of palestine. a sign in the corner of the waiting room says ‘this is a place of healing, disruptive behavior will not be tolerated’ and i think of palestine. they probably weren’t thinking of bombs and snipers and mass graves in parking lots. i call my parents and i think of palestine. i drive to the grocery store and i think of palestine. i look at the clear blue sky and i think of palestine. i put the dishes away and i think of palestine. i feed my cat and i think of palestine. i listen to music and i think of palestine. i read poetry and i think of palestine. i text my friends and i think of palestine. i think of palestine and i think of palestine and i think of palestine

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

Like today I had planned to do a little yard work and work on some design plans for furniture that I’m flipping. But NOOOOO I couldn’t even do that so I weeded all the flower beds, around all the trees and bushes and all our gardens in our three acres bc otherwise I’d sit and work myself into a depressive spiral because I can’t create at all. WHYYYYYY

I cannot express the mind numbing bullshit that is having a complete creative block. I can’t write anything. I can’t draw anything. I can’t come up with new designs for soaps I want to make. I can’t get anything creative out and it’s pissing me off UHGGGGGG

She was telling her wife all the wonderful things they had done together and all the grand things they still had left to do.

https://href.li/?https://www.pixiv.net/stacc/menkichi

I wish there was a counter for how many times you’ve booped someone, how am I supposed to make sure it’s the sex number, weed number or evil number

staring at the blank page before you open up the dirty window let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find reaching for something in the distance so close you can almost taste it release your inhibitions feel the rain on your skin no one else can feel it for you only you can let it in no one else no one else can speak the words on your lips drench yourself in words unspoken live your life with arms wide open today is where your book begins the rest is still unwritten

“Good. It reminds me that I am…”

I trail off, hesitant to say alive. If there is no death, is there really life? A breath no longer holds the same weight to me that I once did. Not after gaining this immortal stretch, this breath of eternity. A breath is simply a creature comfort to me now, I could live without it and simply bask in the aching, screaming burn of lungs without the air that was once so vital for survival, but I opt to breathe both out of habit and for comfortability.

She shakes her head at me, frowning. I know that it scalds her, ruffles her, that her “gift” to me has been met with such an abundance of bitterness. But she stole me away, forced me to watch all the people I loved slowly age and slip away. She stole my golden years, trapped eternally in the body of a young adult may seem like a gift, but jobs begin to be difficult to attain when your resume doesn’t match your face. To say the least about the pain of immortality.

As the child grows, I bask in their light and their warmth, loving them as if they are my own. Their life, 98 years, was a lengthy stretch of time for most humans, but for me, it felt like a blink. Over far too soon, and like all the other losses, this one destroys me. My heart torn out, my lungs aching, and again, she returns.

“I told you this would hurt.”

“Please.” All I need to say, she knows what I’m begging for.

Scoffing, she leaves me, crumbled at the rubble of the alter of my place of worship. The alter to my God that I was raised in. The God that she ripped me away from, barring me from the eternity that I had longed for. She took my family, took my faith, and gave me no hope of escape from this agonizing existence, and expects me to grovel and worship her every breath as if I was given a gift, not punished for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So the cycle begins again, spiting her with my every thought. Every fiber of my being dedicated to being an eternal thorn and embarrassment. I find the weak, the helpless, the fearful, the abandoned, and I love them. Help them, protect them, and when she warns me of my impending pain, I spit at her warnings. I dive in and love just as much and as unwaveringly as I did when I was human, like I haven’t felt the agony of the impending loss a million times.

For every time she has chosen to be a harbinger of agony, of suffering and pain, I chose to be one of love, of happiness and hope. I will until the world rots around us and the gods and forsaken immortals are all that remain, or until she decides to unmake me, going back to my conception and unraveling my DNA as it begins its formation, so that my handprint can never mark history.

Her fierce and evil face contorts in fury each time I smile in anyone’s direction. But it’s only natural. Only natural for us to be at odds, for her to hate me so.

Her hideous name is Hate, and I have and will always worship at the alter of love.

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

There has been a recent (significant) spike in my area of anti-trans activity, and I’m not sure if that is specific to my area or if it is a trend in the world at large, but either way, that is unacceptable and I want to reiterate that bigotry of any kind is not acceptable, tolerated, or welcome on this page.

real homies respect trans people!

i know i haven't spoken about the annihilation of gaza here at all yet, i've been more actively sharing posts and information on my personal accounts on ig/twt/fb etc. however, i'll say this here right now—if you support isr*el or are staying "neutral", i need you to actually go ahead and block me this instant. this is actual genocide, actual ruthless murder of innocent people and children. if you are not firmly on palestine's side, i do not want you on my blog, or to even breathe the same air as me. kindly remove yourself from my space. thank you!

Me introducing my favorite OCs. My sweet little bastards, my sons of havoc that only know how to endure the horrors of every trauma I can cook up. My darlings.