Miyuko

Unburden.

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Amber.

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The grand wedding 🔔🎊

The grand wedding 🔔🎊

My name is Abdullah Al-Qassab, I’m 27 years old, and I am writing this message with trembling hands and an empty stomach — from Gaza.

Before the war, I had a small travel agency something I built with love, effort, and hope.I dreamed of a simple life… a dignified life.

But the war didn’t just destroy my home and business —it shattered my ability to dream.

Today, I’m not asking for dreams.I’m asking for bread. For water. For life I now live with my family in the open — no walls, no roof, just the cold ground beneath us.

We are in a catastrophic famine.

We go days without food.

We faint in the street from hunger.

Our bodies are giving up.

And still… the world remains silent.

My mother has a heart condition — she needs medicine and special food.

Now she lies in pain, her chest aching, and I have nothing to give her. My grandmother has high blood pressure — worsened by hunger and cold nights.

Her body is shrinking before my eyes.

And me😞?

I’ve collapsed more than once from weakness. From not eating.But I stand up again… because they need me.

What do you call this life?

Sleeping on the dirt… watching your family starve… praying your heart doesn’t stop before help arrives? This is not a life. This is a slow death. To anyone reading this Please… don’t turn away from me.

Help me buy food before we collapse again. Help me get medicine before my mother’s heart gives out.

Help me bring even one moment of comfort to my grandmother before it’s too late.

I’m not asking for luxury.

I’m not asking for comfort.

> I’m begging for survival.

Even the smallest act of kindness could mean the world to us. Please… save us from this hunger.

— Abdullah Al-Qassab

Gaza, Palestine

🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸GoFundMe link🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

📩 Or DM me if you prefer to help directly.. 🙏🏻

Every dollar helps. Every reblog helps. Every bit of empathy matters... 🥹💔

I am Inas, a mother of two young children: Muhammad, 7 years old, and Hala, 5 years old. They should have been living their childhood like all children—safe and warm in the embrace of their father. But the war has stolen that dream from us😭😭😭

Six months ago, my husband Anas, a kind-hearted man who endured a life of poverty, was killed by a random shell while on his way to work as a taxi driver. Since that tragic day, I’ve been left to carry the unbearable weight of life alone.

I held a diploma in international secretarial studies and was about to start a job to help support my family. But the war shattered not only our home but also my hopes and dreams. We’ve been displaced six times and now live in a tent that offers no shelter from the bitter cold or the ever-looming fear.

My young children face relentless hunger that weakens their fragile bodies and a cold that knows no mercy for their small hearts. Each day, their cries for warmth and food grow louder, and each day, I feel more helpless to provide them with even the basics of life💔😭😭

I appeal to your humanity, to your compassion. We need your help to survive, to find a safe shelter, and to feed my children. Your generosity could be the reason Muhammad and Hala continue to live and find hope amidst this darkness🥹

Please, help me keep the light of these innocent children from being extinguished by this cruel world

Donation Link

Vetted by association

Click here

Hello friends, I'm Ahmed from Gaza. The war is over now, but our pain and suffering haven't. I studied computer science at the Islamic University of Gaza. During the war, I lost everything: my home, my job, my car, and my tablet. I'm now homeless and without shelter. Despite all that, I tried my best to finish my university studies during the war and take my exams under difficult circumstances, under bombardment. Now I'm about to finish. I need your help to complete my studies abroad and cover the travel expenses. Therefore, I need your support and assistance to achieve my dreams and ambitions. If you can't donate, you can share this post and talk about me and my dreams.

My family and I have nothing but thin plastic to protect us. Please, if you can, help us with anything. Your support can keep us warm and safe.

Please donate

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #672 )✅️

Thank you all for supporting me in the past, but now I am in urgent need of your help.

I am about to start a new stage in my life — university — and I am also the one who supports my family. The war has ended, but the suffering has not.

Our home was destroyed, our house was bombed, and our dreams were stolen. I am here asking for your help.

I was also scammed by the first campaign organizer, so I created a new one. I am in desperate need of your support once again.

I need to start over — to support my family and myself, and to register for university.

Remember, no matter how small your donation is, it will make a difference in my life.

Do not hesitate or ignore — the war may have ended, but the suffering has just begun.

Please donate and help me 🙏🥹

This campaign is our only lifeline right now.

If you can donate, please do. If you can’t, sharing this post truly saves lives.

From my heart, thank you to everyone standing with us.

Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.

I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.

Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.

On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.

We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.

A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.

Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.

Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.

The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.

Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.

We Don’t Know What Comes Next There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.

How You Can Help I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:

Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.

Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.

While the world hears less and less news from Gaza because so many journalists were killed, Aboud (@saveaboudfamily) was one of the few people still trying to share the truth, even while he was starving, injured, and fighting for his life.

Today, Aboud is in the hospital after collapsing from severe anemia. His health is critical. And while he lies in a hospital bed, his family has no shelter. Their tent collapsed in the storm last night, and they are now outside under the rain.

No cameras. No journalists left. No protection.

Just a young man trying to survive, and a family trying not to freeze.

Please, help Aboud and his family. A small donation could save his life and give his siblings a place to sleep tonight.

Speak about him. Share his story. Don't let another Palestinian disappear in silence.

Every day here in Gaza feels like a year carved into our chests. The war isn’t like it was in the early days—the sky is quieter, the air carries less smoke, and the nights hold fewer explosions. But the pain… it still lives under the rubble, inside our memories, and in the empty spaces where our loved ones once stood.

I’m writing this today not because the war has completely ended, but because for the first time in a long while, it feels like the horizon is opening a little. A small space where we can breathe, gather ourselves, and try to rebuild what’s left of our lives. Yet every step forward feels like walking on wounded memories, and every stone from our destroyed home whispers stories we never got to finish.

We lived through nights so heavy we thought morning would never come. We lost things that can never be replaced—homes, dreams, pieces of our hearts. But we are still here… holding on, trying, fighting to stay standing despite everything.

And in the middle of this long road… there is a house. A house that once carried laughter, warmth, noise, and life. Today, all that remains is an image holding a memory—and rubble longing for the people who once lived inside.

Today, we are trying to rebuild—not just the walls of a house, but an entire life that was shattered. We are trying to create a new beginning, to live with dignity again, to give our family a sense of safety that we’ve been missing for so long.

We’re not writing this to mourn what was lost, but to ask for a chance to start again. We ask for your support because rebuilding after a war is not something one person can do alone—it is a human effort, a shared act of compassion. We need you. We need your hearts. We need your help to stand again.

Because Gaza has no working banking system, we use my brother U.S. Stripe account to safely process donations for our family. Nothing is hidden — every dollar goes where it should. We are ready to show proof of anything, at any time.

Every contribution—no matter how small—makes a difference. It becomes part of our story, part of rebuilding a home, part of reviving a life that nearly faded.

The war may be almost over… but our journey back to life begins now.