I hate the videoification of everything. If I have to hear one more video of someone speaking closely into their shitty mic and I have to have all their yucky wet mouth noises and plosives and nose whistles and throat clearings and sniffles I am going to dig a vertical hole the exact dimensions of my body and Iβm going to slither in head first
as someone with misophonia, the widespread popularization of asmr audio editing + people that are being pushed to make video content with no formal training and have no idea how to edit their audio (ex college professors, average joe tiktokers, etc) is literally my nightmare scenario. this is hell I am in hell
dropped an embroidery needle on my floor in the dark and couldn't recover it so hopefully a bug is about to use it as a sword and go on some adventures and shit
And while this is happening while people are buried under rubble, while children freeze in tents, while entire families vanish overnight powerful men sit comfortably and present plans for a βNew Gaza.β
Clean slides. Perfect buildings. Investment numbers. A future imagined without the people who are currently being erased.
They talk about peace while bombs are still falling. They talk about rebuilding while destruction is ongoing. They draw maps over land that is soaked with blood and call it hope.
The ceasefire is a lie.
Whatβs happening is ethnic cleansing, repackaged with the language of development and diplomacy. You cannot build a βnewβ city by destroying the people who belong to it. You cannot promise a future while actively killing the present.
This isnβt peace. Itβs violence with better branding.
Today, three journalists were killed in a single airstrike.
Not soldiers. Not fighters. Journalists. People who believed that if they kept documenting, if they kept filming, if they kept writing, the world would eventually care.
In Gaza, telling the truth has become one of the most dangerous things you can do. Holding a camera is treated like holding a weapon. Every photo risks your life. Every report could be your last.
They had names. Families. People waiting for them to come home. They were not numbers, and they were not mistakes. They were silenced because truth is inconvenient, because images expose what statements try to hide.
When journalists are killed, itβs not just lives that are lost itβs evidence. Itβs memory. Itβs the last barrier between reality and denial.
β¦
Donations for GAZA
This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause Iβm distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people Iβm terrified of losing.
They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.
If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.
π This is a verified Chuffed campaign to support family:
Campaign UpdateΒ
If you canβt donate, please reblog. Visibility is sometimes the only protection we have left.β€οΈ
Some accounts are tagged to help people see this campaign. Itβs not spam. If you donβt want to participate, simply scroll.