Help my family to resist difficult circumstances❤️‍

"Every Day We Survive… But For How Long?"

We are a Palestinian family of 11 — five daughters, four sons, a mother, and a father.

Abdulrahman is 26, Montaha 25, Fadel 23, Amr 22, Helin 20, Dalia 18, Shatha 25, Dana 11, Mohammad 8. My mother is 44 and my father is 48.

We are not asking for much — just to stay alive.

Before the war, we lived in a small, humble home filled with love. We laughed, shared meals, and dreamt of a future.

Now, there is no home, no safety, and no clear future. All we have left are broken memories and a fragile hope — if it hasn't been killed already.

We’ve been displaced more times than we can count.

Each time, we flee with what little we have, running from fear, from bombs, from death that chases us around every corner.

We no longer even have the suitcase we used to pack our belongings.

Our home was completely destroyed.

Our happiest moments now lie in rubble.

Today, we live in Al-Mawasi, one of the last areas that can even be called “safe” — although it lacks the most basic necessities of life.

There’s no clean water, no sufficient food, no access to medicine.

We live in tents made of cloth that barely protect us from the burning sun or the cold nights.

My mother can no longer stand from the pain.

She suffers from high blood pressure and a slipped disc in her lower spine. Every movement costs her a tear.

My father is diabetic. He needs regular treatment — but where can we find medicine in a place where we can’t even find water?

Our children are hungry… and that is what breaks you the most as a parent.

Imagine your child looking at you and saying, "Mama, I'm hungry," and you have nothing — nothing but tears.

Bread has become a dream. Milk is a luxury.

A hot meal is a memory from another life.

Even drinking water must be boiled or filtered using makeshift methods, just so no one gets sick.

We are trying to be strong — but we are exhausted.

Yes, we are still alive… but life here feels like dying in slow motion.

This war has killed things inside us that can never be buried. It stole our time, our chances, and our dreams.

We write these words from under a tent that shields us from nothing — not the heat, not the fear, not the pain.

We write with the hope that these words will reach your heart.

We have no one left.

You are our only hope.❤️

Please help us — not for comfort or luxury — but simply to survive.

For medicine for our mother.

For treatment for our father.

For milk for our children.

For a shelter that protects our dignity.

For the chance to feel human again.

Every donation — no matter how small — saves a life. Literally.❤️