My real name isnāt asteria (despite how cool that would be), but it is the name I go by online
I would tell you my pronouns but Iām too confused to care so you can pick out whatever pronouns youād like to refer to me with, I am also lesbian (maybe asexual??)
My hobbies are reading, crochet, listening to music, writing and origami
My favourite colour is red, my favourite shape is a heart and my favourite book is solitaire, I could rant about this book for HOURS on end
I have two cats, Albert is 4 years old and Einstein is 3 years old and are the silliest cats Iāve ever seen
Messages and asks are always open so donāt feel scared to reach out to me or ask anything :)
My name is Laila Auda. Iām writing to you while my heart is heavy, ā¦ Mohammed Lubbad needs your support for Help Laila pursue Gaza & her dr
Please donate or spread Lailaās GoFundMe to help her continue to studies in Egypt!
I write to you with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart. After 188 days of displacement, constant fear, and struggling to survive, we managed to escape with our lives and reach Egypt. But the pain didnāt stop there. Just yesterday, we lost my children's grandfather š, not due to direct war, but because of malnutrition and the lack of basic life necessities. We couldnāt save him, just as we couldnāt save our home or our dreams.
The rest of my family is still trapped in the war, suffering the same harsh conditions that led to the passing of my children's grandfather. We are here trying to build a new life, but we have lost everything. We lost our home, and my children were deprived of their schools and universities. Even my eldest son, who worked so hard to build his future, lost his job and saw his dreams shattered.š
We are now in desperate need of your help. We seek to secure a safe home that will provide us and our children with basic needs. Life in Egypt is extremely difficult, and prices are soaring beyond our reach. All we ask for is a chance to rebuild our lives and secure a better future for our children.šš¼
From the depths of my heart, I ask you to stand by us in these difficult times. Your support means hope and life to us.šš¼šµšø
https://gofund.me/59e9578a
anyone who sees this, if you can vet this or donate please feel free to do so
Tori is diet lemonade. Lucas buys her sprite, which Tori says is not lemonade or diet. Sprite is fake lemonade. Michael buys Tori her favourite brand of diet lemonade. Itās real diet lemonade.
Lucas was in love with the memory of her, Michael is in love with her. Lucasā sprite is fake and his version of her is fake, but Michaels diet lemonade is real just as his version of her is real.
Over a year since I made this!! Iām horrible at analysis in English lessons btw, and I probably could have phrased it better this reads like a shitty insta poem
Died again OOPS ANYWAY WHAT TEH FUCK WHAT THE FUCK TORI AND MICHAEL THE FIRST TIME WE SEE THEM IS GONNA BE REALKY SPECIAL AND IM GONNA DIE AND IM GONNA FREAK OUT AND IM GONNA RARGDJXJCLFLJDJSIDNX DJHDHFU SOLITAIRE
(angst, tw: suicide mention. words: 685. a/n: trying to recreate Aliceās writing style was really hard, sorry if theyāre ooc)
Today is Saturday, but I donāt really feel any enjoyment about the school-free day. I am doing what I do everyday anyways. I am laying in bed, watching a film. A bad one, not that I care whatsoever.
Dating is ridiculous, I have come to that conclusion. Michael is ridiculous too, so I donāt have anything better to do right now than dread life.
I would say my hands ache to grab my phone and text him, but that would be a lie. The only thing happening to me right now is feeling the need to re-freshen my tumblrās page every single second. But thatās just because I am bored. Whatever.
My throat is dry, my diet lemonade is empty on the floor. Itās quite messy here.
Click, click, click.
Charlie has just greeted Nick at the door, I hear their happy voices in the distance. Itās gross. Itās lovely.
Click, click, click.
My hoodie is starting to bother me. The hood is too big and it keeps falling from my shoulders. I should throw it away.
Click.
Anonymous: Thought for the day: wouldnāt it be all easier if everyone was the same?
Anonymous: Thought for the day: how worth it is saying the truth?
Anonymous: Thought for the day: what happens to the different ones?
Anonymous: Thought for the day: is it morally acceptable to end your life?
My hands stop. White noise is in my ears, Charlie and Nickās voices gone. The overheating computer is gone. My heartbeat stays.
It has been radio silence from Michael for a week. Knowing he is alive is nice, so I donāt know why my finger has clicked the call button on my phone. However, he doesnāt answer.
My sheets make me turn and roll and get up. Theyāre too hot and itchy, so I throw them to the floor.
I donāt know how it happens, or why, but the breeze makes my hair messier than it already is. My jacket does barely anything to cover me from the cold, but thatās just my own fault.
This is where everything started. The long brown house and the cliff over the river. Michael is standing on that same cliff, with his hair ruined and big pyjamas. Itās just like going back in time. But he is not smiling, he wears a frown on his face like a medal and his hand holds his ice skaters over the river. A tear falls on top of his arm.
I donāt want to be pushy. I hate pushy people, but I canāt stop myself from walking right to his side.
āWhat are you doing here?ā
His harsh tone hurts. His free hand is curled against itself, like everything he wanted to end with was in the air.
āYou canāt die.ā
He turns, the wind makes his hair cover his eyes, so I donāt really see what I want to. I donāt see if he understands me, if he agrees. I am scared.
āIām not going to kill myself.ā His feet step away from the cliff. āIf that is what worries you.ā
His voice is laced with anger, not something Iām used to. I look at him and weāre silent for a couple of minutes. I donāt know what to say, so I donāt say anything.
Hugging him is something I donāt do often, but seeing him about to throw his whole life into the riverā¦ he canāt give up.
His body is stiff as my arms circle his torso, my head pressed in his arm. He sniffs, so I press my arms harder.
āI am sorry. Please donāt throw away your life.ā
We go backwards, as away from the cliff as we can. I take his ice skaters, leaving them on the floor and then I hug him correctly. I donāt want him to be like this anymore, I want him to laugh and say stupid jokes like he always has, but thatās selfish. Iām selfish for wanting that.
āIām sorry Michael. Iām so sorry.ā
Weāre both crying, but we are also laughing, so everything is okay. For now, at least.
