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An Entire Lebanese Family Wiped Out By Israel

I never imagined I'd reach a point where I'd be writing these words. I used to think the greatest pain was losing my legs… but I discovered that the greatest pain is feeling alone. I waited for donations. I waited for a message of support. I waited for someone to say, “We’re here.” But the days passed… and the notifications remained silent. Today, no one stands by me… except my crutches. They don't ask why help was delayed. They don't promise anything and then disappear. They don't let me down. Whenever I'm tired, I lean on them. Whenever my heart falters, they steady me. The crutches know my weight… and carry what humans cannot. I confess… for a moment, I lost hope. I felt invisible, that my story meant nothing to anyone. But despite that, I still breathe. I still try to stand, even if it's just with crutches. Perhaps my story hasn't reached its destination yet, perhaps relief hasn't come yet, but I will keep standing… even if the whole world is far away. Because I've learned one thing: even if people let you down, don't let yourself down.

Hello, free people of the world! 👍 I'm here to raise my voice. I'm Khitam, a mother of three from Gaza: Youssef, Muhammad, and Kamel. We're here after this war; we're homeless, we've lost our jobs, and we're living like refugees, moving from tent to tent. Please, help me!