Wentworth Tozier

Wentworth Tozier

Bill: You know when grown ups tell you everything’s going to be fine, and you think they’re probably lying to make you feel better?

Dean: Yes

Bill: …everything’s going to be fine

The Palestine Red Crescent paramedic colleague, Mohammed Al-Omari, was killed, and two other paramedics were injured after the Israeli occupation forces directly fired at them in Gaza City while they were transferring several wounded individuals from Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in preparation for their transfer to hospitals in the south.

Not to ruin your night, but imagine how destroyed Mike is in the aftermath of it all. Losing Stan and Eddie was devastating for the rest of them, after just remembering each other again, but Mike had remembered them the whole time. For 27 years, when he wasn’t doing his research, Mike passed the time imagining the day this would all be over and he’d have his friends back. It was the only way he could bear the burden of being the watchman. He pictured the seven of them together on the other side of It, free from the cloud of Derry, and now two of his friends are dead. Mike never even got to meet Stan as an adult.

He knows what he looked like, though, the way he knew all of their faces, because he’d kept track of them. For 27 years. It was harder for some than others, but the evolution of social media made it basically a hobby instead of a job. He knew when Stan and Eddie graduated college, when they got married, when their parents died, when they got new jobs, and with every piece of their lives he could uncover on the internet or in the newspaper, he imagined getting to see them again, talk to them again, share their lives again.

And then they died, and Mike is left trying to figure out what the hell the point of it all was. He sacrificed his life for his friends only to lose them anyway, and how is he supposed to cope with that?

Your tag for the pain poll (that’s a weird sentence lol) “I told people I got into a fight with a chicken” is SENDING ME

no one believed me sadly 😔

Being from Gaza, Palestine is so different.

I tell people I'm from Gaza and I get pity, I get the "oh... do you have family there?" and I have to act tough, I am tough, it runs in my veins. Being from Gaza is expecting that reaction, the sorrow, it's dealing with dumbass people everyday, it's getting the "can you go there?" question. (No i cant btw).

I am from Gaza, I feel emotions just like everyone else, I feel anger and hurt and longing for a place I cant visit, I feel love and comfort and right now I feel alone and like im yelling at the world to pay attention and NO ONE CARES.

I am from Gaza, my thoughts belong to Gaza, my heart, my skin color, the way I speak, the way I say words a bit differently than the rest of the Palestinians, the way I wish I was a filmmaker to share my culture with the world.

I am from Gaza, i am aware of how different my people are, i am aware that i grew up differently, I am aware I grew up looking at the news from my grandparents television with my aunt waiting for news about her family, I am aware that I have trauma in my veins, I am aware that my culture is taken over and that I can't really speak about it, I am aware that not everyone experiences your aunt screaming that her brother died and yelling "He's apart of my soul, my soul died"

I am from Gaza, I hurt, I feel, I love, I care and my heart, soul and mind all belong to my beautiful land and its people.