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Books: Main characters must follow the plot.
Fanfiction: Okay but what if they went to IKEA and fought over furniture instead?
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Even the Smallest Kindness Can Change a Life 💙
Every day, I try to remind myself that we are still here. That despite everything we have lost, we are still breathing, still holding on. But some days, that is harder than others.
I lost 25 family members in a single moment. I can still hear their laughter, still see their faces when I close my eyes. But they are gone, and nothing will bring them back.
Our home, the place that held every memory, every moment of comfort, is nothing but rubble. We have been displaced over and over, searching for safety, searching for something that feels like home.
💔 Each day is a battle for survival. 💔 Each night is a reminder of who is missing. 💔 And yet, kindness still finds us.
Thanks to the generosity of people who have never met me, we have now reached $2,500. It is a small step in a long journey, but it is a step forward. And that means everything.
I am not asking for much—just the chance to survive. Even $5 can make a difference. If you cannot give, please consider sharing our story. You never know who might see it and be able to help.
Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for reminding us that even in our hardest moments, there is still goodness in the world. 💙🙏
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Absence of Simplicity Series by sobsicles
Bloeiende cactus (1878 - 1905) by Theo van Hoytema
Butter Balls (1915) by Margaret Armstrong
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eurypotpourrie-deactivated20250
euthanize me before i turn into something violent in my fear
death is a tenderness not many can afford to misunderstand. i can sit here, in my bright living room where the maple-bright sunlight paints the world in shades of gold and red and call death a messiah. i can sit in the pews of an altar that has seen less bloodshed than a pre-pubescent teenage girl, and turn caskets into poetic devices. i can offer my condolences, but not my experiences.
the summer before the last, i started writing. i ripped every page of my diary apart, begging for perfection. all i ended up with was a basket full of crumpled papers and an empty notebook.
once again GO READ MY POOKIES WORK they js keep getting better
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eurypotpourrie-deactivated20250
a man is on his knees in the street. he's drunk off his ass, hands raised and gesturing. in my religion - the one i learned at the curve of your feet - you taught me of the strange and beautiful things that rip into us, one by one. "ghurba", you'd taught me. "when your land is stripped from your aching limbs, and you are pushed into the arms of a mother tongue who's shape you do not recognize." i didn't understand it then, this death of a thousand deaths. but i understand it now.
gang go read my pookie’s CRAZY writing im so sad
