I just have a healthy fear for the terrifying cryptids that could only come out of a place so ancient and nothing but mad respect for any humans who manage to live there too.
I live in the blue ridge part of Appalachia and there are definitely lots of cryptids. Actually I am one, this is a fake body I’m actually a skin walker don’t come jere
seeing fellow Catholics support this administration is actually crazy, love thy neighbor, welcome foreigners in your land we were once foreigners to? It will be easier for a cow to enter the eye of a needle than a rich man the kingdom of god?? Helping the children, the women, the poor, the less fortunate, the sex workers?? Idk ringing any bells? JESUS RIOTED IN THE TEMPLE BECAUSE OF RICH MEN??? WHERES YOUR RAGE. Fake Christian’s and Catholics EVERYWHERE. You cannot call yourself catholic or Christian if you do not follow in gods footsteps. He would never support this neither should you if you truly label yourself a believer
dude I’m so sorry about your grandma who’s in the hospital after her stroke:( could you maybe stand up tho I think you might be sitting on my vape ?
so sorry for talking about how humans place so much on the concept of right and wrong and yet excuse them consistently to justify our own actions and the actions of others merely because we like them. And so I do not truly believe in right and wrong because they aren’t real in my mind due to the fact they change for each person and their beliefs and experiences, please let me hit
Everything changed the day Amira was born.
The world outside was collapsing — bombs, dust, screams, and fear. Yet inside a small room, by the dim light of a single candle, a new life began.
While others were running for shelter, I was holding my newborn daughter, trembling, crying, trying to believe that something so pure could still exist in a place like Gaza.
I named her Amira, because I wanted her to feel like a child of life —not a child of war.
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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
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on — to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
 A Mother’s Message
To everyone reading this — thank you for listening to our story.
Your kindness means more than words.
Every share, every message, every donation — it all helps me rebuild not just a house, but a future for Amira.
From the heart of Gaza, from a mother learning to hope again —
we will live. And I will make sure my daughter grows up in a world that knows love more than war.
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