depressed super nerd

She suffers from severe vitamin deficiencies, and her body is exhausted from extreme fatigue.

Even the medication leaves her weaker with every dose, causing vomiting and diarrhea.

We are now at the most critical stage, and we cannot afford the life-saving surgery she desperately needs.

She is a mother of three little girls — Alma, Lama, and Lina — and every passing day threatens her chances.

If you see this post, please donate and share now.

Her life needs a chance.

Flooded tents. Sick bodies. No shelter. Pain is background noise now and we’re still here, freezing.

We urgently need to buy a tent — this is about survival, not comfort. We haven’t received any donations, and the situation is getting worse.

Even a small donation can save us. If you can’t donate, please share.

Strong winds have struck Gaza and are hitting our tents harshly. The sound of the wind is terrifying, and the tapping of the rain on the tent’s roof frightens us just like the sounds of the explosions once did.

We spend the night awake, counting the minutes in fear of flooding, watching the water crawl toward us slowly and dangerously.

We are tired of pleading, tired of writing, tired of shouting that we are sinking while no one hears us.

We are in pain, and all we have left is this pain as a witness to our lives.

We are asking for your support to help us improve our living conditions inside the tent, reduce the risks of the harsh weather, and secure the bare minimum of our basic needs.

Your support makes a real difference in our daily survival.

Please donate

Bob: Why am I your best friend?

#Gaza #Palestine #GazaRelief #FoodDistribution #MeatForGaza #HumanitarianAid #SaveGaza #HelpGaza #Charity #FoodAid #GazaUnderAttack #HumanitarianCrisis #GazaFood #EmergencyAid #DonateForGaza #GazaSupport #GazaEmergency

  A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep. She has just turned one. She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her. She doesn’t know the word “loss.” She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there. Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like. And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again. I want to rebuild our home. Not just for the walls — but for her future. For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war. I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear

 A Mother’s Message

  A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep. She has just turned one. She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her. She doesn’t know the word “loss.” She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there. Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like. And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again. I want to rebuild our home. Not just for the walls — but for her future. For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war. I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear

 A Mother’s Message

Gaza is still bleeding !!!!

Donation link for a family from Gaza

People keep saying there’s a ceasefire but every single day we wake up to another explosion, another family destroyed, another name added to the list of martyrs. I’m writing this because the world thinks Gaza is “calm” now.

It’s not. The bombs didn’t stop. The drones didn’t stop. The funerals didn’t stop.

During this so-called ceasefire, dozens of people were killed. Homes were burned. Children were pulled from under the rubble. You’ll see the photos I’m adding below - all taken during the “pause”. This is what our reality looks like.

My own family is suffering too. We lost relatives. We lost our home.

312 Palestinians have been killed, entire families wiped out during a time that was supposed to bring safety.!

Here is the donation link for my family’s emergency fund:

https://chuffed.org/project/145440-help-anass-family-survive-and-rebuild-after-gaza-war

If you can’t donate, please reblog, share, tag people.

Your support is literally life saving for us.

Thank you for not looking away.

Thank you for keeping Gaza alive in your heart.

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