Science

Russia-Ukraine War Enters Fourth Year: Can Flamingo, Oreshnik Missiles, F-16 Jets and AI Drones Change the Balance?
On the 24th of this month, four years will be completed since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. This war has continued without pause for four years, and there are still no visible signs that it will end. Negotiations between Russia and Ukraine are being held in Abu Dhabi under U.S. mediation. On Thursday, another round of these talks ended without any progress. If diplomacy is failing to deliver results, do the two countries possess such advanced weapons that could potentially tilt the balance of war in favor of either side? New Missiles: Flamingo vs. Oreshnik
By Real content8 months ago in Chapters
When Silence Spoke Louder Than Words
When Silence Spoke Louder Than Words Ubaid I used to believe that words were the most powerful tools we had. Apologies, promises, explanations—if spoken at the right time, I thought they could fix anything. Silence, on the other hand, felt like emptiness. Like nothing. I was wrong. The first time I noticed the silence, it didn’t arrive dramatically. There was no argument, no slammed doors, no final sentence hanging in the air. It crept in quietly, disguised as “being busy.” Messages took longer to answer. Conversations grew shorter. The warmth that once lived between us slowly cooled, one unread text at a time. I told myself I was overthinking. People grow, lives change, priorities shift. That’s normal, right? But deep down, I felt something was off. Not because of what was said—but because of what wasn’t. We used to talk about everything. Small things, like how the sky looked before sunset, and big things, like fears we never admitted out loud. There was comfort in knowing someone would listen without judgment. Then one day, that comfort disappeared. Not suddenly, but steadily, like a radio signal fading as you drive farther away. When I finally asked if something was wrong, the response was simple: “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” Those words should have reassured me. Instead, they made the silence louder. Because silence has weight. It carries meaning. And when someone chooses not to speak, that choice says more than any carefully crafted sentence ever could. I began replaying moments in my head, searching for mistakes I might have made. Maybe I said too much. Maybe I didn’t say enough. Maybe I failed to notice something important. But silence doesn’t offer answers—it only offers space. And in that space, doubts grow fast. What hurt the most wasn’t the distance itself, but the refusal to acknowledge it. I would have preferred an honest confession, even if it was painful. At least words give you something solid to hold onto. Silence leaves you guessing, questioning your worth, your memory, your place in someone’s life. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. The connection that once felt unbreakable now felt like a fragile thread, stretched too thin. And still, no words came. That’s when I realized something uncomfortable: silence isn’t always passive. Sometimes, it’s intentional. Silence can be a boundary. A decision. A quiet goodbye. I had spent so long waiting for an explanation that I forgot I was allowed to move forward without one. Not every ending comes with closure. Not every story is wrapped neatly with a final conversation. Some chapters end mid-sentence, and we have to accept that. Letting go wasn’t easy. I kept hoping the silence would break, that one message would arrive and everything would make sense again. But it never did. And slowly, I stopped checking. Stopped waiting. Stopped building my days around a response that wasn’t coming. In the quiet, I learned to listen to myself instead. I learned that I deserved honesty—even if it came in the form of absence. I learned that someone’s silence often reflects their own struggles, not my value. And I learned that peace sometimes begins when we stop demanding answers from people who have already chosen not to speak. Now, when I think back, I don’t feel anger. I feel clarity. Because the silence told me what words couldn’t: that the connection had run its course, that holding on was hurting more than letting go, and that it was time to choose myself. Some people leave with explanations. Others leave with silence. Both are messages. One is just harder to hear. But once you understand it, once you accept it, the silence stops being heavy. It becomes freeing. It gives you permission to close the door gently and walk forward without looking back. And that’s when I finally understood— silence doesn’t mean nothing. Sometimes, it means everything.
By Ubaid 8 months ago in Chapters
I Learned the Hard Way Who Really Cared
I Learned the Hard Way Who Really Cared Khan I used to believe that the people who laughed the loudest with me would be the ones who stayed when things got quiet. I thought care was measured by constant messages, shared photos, and promises that sounded sincere in the moment. Back then, I didn’t know how easy it was for noise to disguise emptiness. Life was comfortable when everything was going right. I had people around me—friends who showed up for celebrations, acquaintances who called themselves family, and conversations that felt meaningful simply because they were frequent. I mistook availability for loyalty and attention for care. It never crossed my mind to question who would remain if I stopped being useful, entertaining, or strong. That illusion shattered during one of the most difficult phases of my life. It didn’t happen all at once. It began subtly, with unanswered messages and delayed replies. At first, I made excuses for everyone. People are busy, I told myself. Life gets complicated. But as my struggles became heavier, the distance grew clearer. When I finally gathered the courage to talk about what I was going through, the room fell silent—not physically, but emotionally. Some people listened without hearing. Others offered quick advice, not because they understood, but because they wanted the conversation to end. A few disappeared entirely, uncomfortable with the weight of honesty. That was when I realized how lonely vulnerability can feel when it isn’t met with care. The hardest part wasn’t the pain I was experiencing—it was discovering that many of the people I trusted weren’t prepared to sit with me in it. I remember one particular evening when everything felt unbearable. I reached out to someone I had always been there for, someone I thought would understand. The response was short, dismissive, almost annoyed. In that moment, something inside me shifted. I wasn’t angry; I was awake. That night taught me a lesson no book ever could. Care isn’t loud. It doesn’t always announce itself with grand gestures or dramatic words. Real care is quiet and consistent. It shows up when there’s nothing to gain. It listens without rushing to fix. It stays, even when staying is inconvenient. As people drifted away, a surprising thing happened. A few unexpected souls stepped closer. They didn’t promise to solve my problems. They didn’t pretend to have all the answers. They simply checked in, remembered the little things, and made space for my silence as much as my words. One person would message me just to ask if I had eaten. Another would sit with me without pushing me to talk. These gestures seemed small, but they carried a weight that no empty promise ever could. For the first time, I understood the difference between people who enjoy your presence and people who genuinely care about your well-being. Letting go of false connections was painful. It felt like grieving relationships that were never real to begin with. I questioned myself often—Was I expecting too much? Was I too sensitive? But deep down, I knew the truth. Wanting understanding is not a weakness. Expecting basic compassion is not asking for too much. The experience reshaped the way I see people—and myself. I stopped chasing validation from those who only showed up when it was easy. I learned to set boundaries without guilt. Most importantly, I learned to value my own presence enough not to beg others to value it for me. Now, my circle is smaller, but it’s real. It’s built on honesty, patience, and mutual respect. The people in it don’t need constant reminders to care. They show it naturally, in ways that don’t fade when life gets complicated. Looking back, I’m grateful for the lesson, even though it came wrapped in pain. Losing the wrong people made room for the right ones. And learning who truly cared taught me something even more important—how to care for myself. Sometimes, the hardest lessons are the ones that save us in the long run. And sometimes, learning the hard way is the only way we truly learn at all.
By Khan 8 months ago in Chapters
The Promise I Broke Without Meaning To
The Promise I Broke Without Meaning To BY: Khan I still remember the exact moment I made the promise. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no music in the background, no sunset, no grand speech. It was just two people sitting on opposite sides of a small wooden table, cups of untouched tea slowly turning cold. I looked confident when I said it, but deep down, I didn’t realize how fragile promises can be when life begins to pull you in different directions. “I’ll always be there,” I said. And I meant it. At that time, my world was simple. My days followed predictable patterns, and my future felt like a straight road instead of a maze. Being “always there” didn’t seem like a heavy commitment. It felt natural, almost effortless—like breathing. I believed good intentions were enough to protect a promise from breaking. I was wrong. Life has a quiet way of changing things without asking for permission. Responsibilities grew before I noticed them. Expectations stacked up like unread messages. Days became busier, nights shorter, and silence slowly replaced conversations that once flowed easily. I told myself I was just tired. Just busy. Just going through a phase. I didn’t realize that every unanswered call, every postponed meeting, every “I’ll talk to you later” was a small crack forming in the promise I had made. The hardest part is that I never chose to break it. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to disappear. I didn’t plan to hurt anyone. I simply assumed there would always be more time—time to explain, time to show up, time to fix what was slowly falling apart. I thought understanding would fill the gaps where my presence used to be. But understanding has limits. One evening, I finally noticed the distance. It was in the tone of a message—polite, careful, distant. The warmth I was used to had faded, replaced by something cautious. That’s when it hit me: the promise hadn’t snapped all at once. It had worn down, thread by thread, while I was too distracted to notice. Guilt is a strange feeling. It doesn’t shout. It whispers. It follows you into quiet moments and sits beside you when the noise stops. I replayed that day at the wooden table over and over again, wishing I could go back and speak more honestly—not with confidence, but with awareness. I realized something uncomfortable then: intentions don’t carry promises. Actions do. I had assumed that being emotionally present mattered more than physically showing up, but presence isn’t something you can store for later. It has an expiration date. When it’s not renewed, it fades. And once it’s gone, words alone can’t bring it back. I tried to explain. I apologized—not with excuses, but with honesty. I admitted that I hadn’t meant to break the promise, that I had underestimated life and overestimated myself. The response I received wasn’t angry. That somehow made it worse. Sometimes, disappointment is quieter than anger, but heavier. That’s when I learned the most important lesson of all: a broken promise doesn’t always come from betrayal. Sometimes it comes from neglect, distraction, and the false belief that good intentions are enough. I still carry that lesson with me. Now, I choose my promises carefully. I don’t say “always” unless I truly understand what it demands. I’ve learned that it’s better to offer honesty than reassurance you can’t sustain. Better to say “I’ll try” and mean it, than to say “I promise” and disappear behind life’s excuses. I don’t know if the promise I broke will ever be fully forgiven. Some things leave marks even after they heal. But I do know this: breaking that promise changed the way I see responsibility, connection, and trust. And maybe that’s the quiet purpose of mistakes like this—not to punish us, but to reshape us. Because the promise I broke without meaning to taught me how powerful a promise really is. And how carefully it should be made.
By Khan 8 months ago in Chapters
I Trusted the Wrong Person—and Paid the Price
I Trusted the Wrong Person—and Paid the Price BY: Ubaid Trust is a quiet thing. It doesn’t announce itself. It grows slowly, fed by shared moments, late conversations, and the belief that someone sees you the way you want to be seen. I didn’t realize how fragile it was until the day it broke—and took a part of me with it. When I met him, everything felt easy. He listened when others rushed to speak. He remembered small details I thought no one noticed. In a world where everyone seemed busy protecting themselves, he felt open, genuine, safe. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. I was at a point in my life where I wanted to believe in people. I wanted to believe that honesty still existed without conditions. Slowly, without even noticing, I let my guard down. I shared ideas, fears, plans—things I had kept hidden for years. Each time, he nodded with understanding, offering reassurance that felt real. Looking back, the signs were there. They always are. He asked more questions than he answered. He promised support but avoided responsibility. He praised my strengths in public but questioned my decisions in private. I noticed the discomfort, the slight unease, but I ignored it. Trust has a way of blinding you to logic. The price of my trust didn’t come all at once. It arrived in small moments—a missed promise here, a twisted story there. At first, I defended him, even to myself. I blamed stress, misunderstandings, timing. Anything but the truth. Then came the day everything changed. A project I had shared in confidence appeared elsewhere—polished, presented, and credited to someone else. My words, my ideas, my effort—no longer mine. When I confronted him, his expression didn’t show guilt. It showed irritation. As if my pain was an inconvenience. “That’s not how it happened,” he said calmly. “You’re overthinking,” he added. Those words hurt more than the betrayal itself. Being deceived was painful, but being dismissed—made to feel foolish for trusting—cut deeper. I walked away that day with more than disappointment. I carried anger, self-doubt, and a heavy question: How did I let this happen? For weeks, I replayed every conversation, every moment I ignored my instincts. I blamed myself for being naive, for believing too easily. But slowly, something shifted. I realized that trusting wasn’t my weakness—it was my courage. The mistake wasn’t believing in someone; it was believing in them after they showed me who they were. The experience changed me, but not in the way I feared. I became quieter, not weaker. More observant, not colder. I learned that trust should be earned consistently, not granted emotionally. I learned that boundaries are not walls—they are self-respect. Most importantly, I learned that betrayal reveals more about the person who commits it than the one who suffers from it. Today, I’m more careful with my trust, but I haven’t locked it away. I still believe in good people. I just believe in patience more. I watch actions longer than I listen to words. And when something feels wrong, I don’t silence that feeling anymore. The price I paid was high—but the lesson was priceless. I trusted the wrong person, and it hurt. But it also taught me something powerful: losing trust in one person should never mean losing trust in yourself. And that lesson? It’s one I’ll carry forward, wiser, stronger, and finally—awake.
By Ubaid 8 months ago in Chapters
China’s C919 Aircraft: A New Competitor in the Asia-Pacific Aviation Market
This scene is from the Singapore Airshow, where exhibition halls are filled with aircraft models, mock cockpit structures, and interactive displays. Everything from modern commercial airplanes to the latest aviation technology is on display. At the Singapore Airshow, one booth in particular has captured everyone’s attention—that of COMAC, China’s state-owned passenger aircraft manufacturer. The company’s passenger aircraft, the C919, made its first flight to Singapore two years ago. This aircraft has been developed to compete with the Airbus A320neo and the Boeing 737 Max, and it is also targeting markets outside China. The Asia-Pacific region is a rapidly growing aviation market. At a time when airlines are facing delivery delays and supply chain pressures, this airshow provides COMAC with an opportunity to prove itself as a potential rival to Airbus and Boeing in the Asia-Pacific. Willie Walsh, Director General of the International Air Transport Association (IATA), said: “I believe that at some point COMAC will compete globally, but it will take time. “Ten to fifteen years from now, we will be talking about Boeing, Airbus, and COMAC. Without a doubt, they will be major players in the future.” Walsh added that Asia-Pacific airlines can only achieve double-digit growth in 2026 if aircraft are available. According to him, “It is extremely frustrating for airlines that there is nearly a seven-year gap between ordering an aircraft and receiving it.” This is why COMAC is emerging as another option for Asia-Pacific airlines. At present, more than 150 COMAC aircraft are in operation within China. COMAC planes are also flying in Laos, Indonesia, and Vietnam. Brunei’s GallopAir has placed a large order for COMAC aircraft, and Cambodia is also planning to purchase around 20 planes. Subhas Menon, Director General of the Association of Asia Pacific Airlines, said: “There is a need for more suppliers so that the supply chain does not face disruptions. The problem with this industry is that the supply chain is dominated by a few companies, and sometimes just two.” He added: “We have been waiting for this for a long time. COMAC is a welcome addition. We need more suppliers, especially in the Asia-Pacific.” The company is in a strong position. The government support available to COMAC in emerging markets, along with comparatively cheaper aircraft, makes it attractive for airlines with limited capital. Mike Szucs, Chief Executive of the Philippine low-cost carrier Cebu Pacific, told the BBC: “We welcome new companies entering the market in the future. We strongly want a competitive environment in this sector. “COMAC still has to go through its certification process, and we expect that sometime in the 2030s it will become an attractive option for us and other airlines.” Along with expanding in the Asia-Pacific, COMAC is also trying to obtain European certification. Regulators are conducting test flights of the C919 aircraft. If the aircraft is approved, it will be allowed to be sold to European airlines. However, the road ahead is quite long. Regulators say that European certification could take until 2028, or even 2031. Adapting Chinese components, flight controls, and software to Western standards is also a technical challenge for securing international orders. Aircraft maintenance and repair systems are another hurdle for COMAC, as is pilot training. These are areas in which companies like Boeing and Airbus established structured systems decades ago. In the Asia-Pacific, COMAC faces competition not only from Boeing and Airbus but also from another manufacturer. This is Brazil’s aircraft maker Embraer, which has already established its presence in the region. Singapore’s low-cost airline Scoot, Virgin Australia, and Japan’s All Nippon Airways (ANA) are placing orders for Embraer aircraft. Nevertheless, Boeing and Airbus still maintain a strong foothold at the Singapore Airshow and across the region. Airlines that have long been frustrated by aircraft delivery delays are now receiving assurances from Boeing and Airbus that delivery schedules are set to improve. Mike Szucs of Cebu Pacific said: “It is good to feel that perhaps we can see light at the end of the tunnel.” Questions are also being raised about the number of aircraft COMAC can actually deliver. The company previously said that Chinese airlines had placed orders for 1,000 C919 passenger planes. However, only around a dozen aircraft have been delivered so far. Verifying these figures is also difficult because, unlike Boeing and Airbus, COMAC is a Chinese state-owned company. This means it is not required to publicly disclose its production, costs, and revenue. Until COMAC resolves some or all of these issues, it is highly likely that Boeing and Airbus will continue to dominate the skies of the Asia-Pacific.
By Pets and animals 8 months ago in Chapters
How One Unexpected Encounter Changed My Path
How One Unexpected Encounter Changed My Path BY: Ubaid I didn’t wake up that morning expecting my life to shift. It felt like any other ordinary day—same routine, same thoughts, same quiet dissatisfaction humming in the background. I was moving through life on autopilot, doing what was expected of me, not what truly mattered to me. At the time, I didn’t realize how lost I had become. I just knew something felt off. That’s when the unexpected encounter happened. I was waiting at a small café near the bus stop, scrolling endlessly on my phone, killing time the way I always did. The place wasn’t special—faded chairs, chipped mugs, and the smell of over-brewed coffee. But life doesn’t always choose dramatic settings to make its biggest statements. An older man sat across from me. We didn’t know each other. No introduction, no reason to talk. At first, I barely noticed him. But then he spoke. “You look like someone who’s somewhere they don’t want to be.” The comment caught me off guard. I laughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond. But something about his calm confidence made me listen. He wasn’t accusing me. He wasn’t judging me. He was simply observing. We started talking. He asked what I did, where I was headed, what I wanted from life. Simple questions—yet I struggled to answer them. For the first time, I heard my own uncertainty spoken out loud. I talked about goals that didn’t excite me, plans that felt borrowed, and a future that looked safe but empty. He listened. Really listened. Then he said something I still carry with me: “Comfort is often the most dangerous place to stay too long.” He told me his own story—how he once ignored his instincts, followed a path chosen by fear, and spent years feeling unfulfilled. Not because he failed, but because he never tried. He didn’t tell me what to do. He didn’t give advice wrapped in clichés. He simply shared the cost of not listening to himself. When he stood up to leave, he smiled and said, “You don’t need a perfect plan. You just need honesty with yourself.” And just like that, he was gone. But the conversation stayed. For days after that encounter, his words echoed in my mind. I began noticing how often I said “I’ll do it later” to the things that mattered. How often I chose familiarity over growth. How I confused stability with happiness. That single conversation forced me to pause—and that pause changed everything. I started making small, uncomfortable choices. I spent time reflecting instead of distracting myself. I questioned decisions I had accepted without thought. I allowed myself to imagine a life that actually felt like mine. It wasn’t dramatic. I didn’t quit everything overnight or reinvent myself in a week. The change was quiet, slow, and deeply personal. But it was real. I took risks I had been avoiding. I spoke up when I would have stayed silent. I began learning, failing, adjusting. And with every step, I felt more aligned with who I was becoming. That unexpected encounter didn’t hand me answers. It gave me clarity. I realized that the right people often appear at the right moments—not to guide us forever, but to remind us of something we already know and are afraid to face. Sometimes, it takes a stranger to say what we refuse to admit to ourselves. Looking back, I understand that my path didn’t change because of the man I met. It changed because I finally listened. Now, whenever I feel myself drifting back into comfort without purpose, I remember that café. That conversation. That reminder. Life doesn’t always shout when it wants your attention. Sometimes, it whispers through an unexpected voice, at an unexpected moment, asking a simple question: Is this really the life you want? And once you hear that question honestly, there’s no going back.
By Ubaid 8 months ago in Chapters
A Goodbye I Was Never Prepared For
A Goodbye I Was Never Prepared For BY: Khan I always thought goodbyes were dramatic moments—tearful hugs at airports, final waves from moving trains, last words carefully chosen and remembered forever. I believed a goodbye would announce itself, giving me time to prepare, to understand, to accept. I was wrong. The goodbye I was never prepared for didn’t come with warnings or closure. It arrived quietly, disguised as an ordinary day. That morning felt like any other. The sun filtered through the curtains, my phone buzzed with routine notifications, and life moved forward without hesitation. We exchanged messages like we always did—nothing emotional, nothing urgent. Just normal words between two people who assumed there would always be a next conversation. I didn’t know that was the last time. At first, the absence felt temporary. People get busy. Life interrupts. Silence doesn’t always mean something is wrong. I told myself all the reasonable things, the excuses that protect us from uncomfortable truths. Days passed, then weeks. The silence grew heavier, no longer empty but loud, pressing against my thoughts. That’s when it started to hurt. Not in a dramatic way, but slowly—like a crack forming beneath your feet while you pretend the ground is still solid. I replayed old conversations, searching for clues. Did I miss something? Say something wrong? Not say enough? The questions multiplied, but the answers never came. The hardest part wasn’t losing someone. It was losing them without understanding why. There was no final argument, no clear ending, no moment I could point to and say, “That’s when it ended.” Just a gradual disappearance, like watching a familiar light fade until one day you realize the room is completely dark. I learned that goodbyes don’t always come with words. Sometimes they come as distance. Sometimes as silence. Sometimes as someone choosing a life that no longer includes you. And that realization hurts more than any spoken farewell. What surprised me most was how deeply it affected my sense of self. When someone leaves without explanation, you start filling the gaps with self-doubt. You wonder if you were forgettable. Replaceable. Temporary. You question memories that once felt solid, unsure whether they meant as much to the other person as they did to you. I carried that weight quietly. To the outside world, nothing had changed. I still showed up, smiled, completed my responsibilities. But internally, I was grieving something invisible—a connection that had ended without permission. There were moments I wanted to reach out, to demand clarity, to ask for the goodbye I felt I deserved. But I didn’t. Not because I didn’t care—but because I began to understand something important. Closure doesn’t always come from the other person. Sometimes, it comes from accepting that not every chapter ends with a proper conclusion. Some pages tear themselves out. Some stories stop mid-sentence. And no amount of rereading will change that. Slowly, I started letting go—not of the memories, but of the need for answers. I realized that the value of what we shared wasn’t erased by how it ended. Something meaningful doesn’t become meaningless just because it doesn’t last forever. That goodbye taught me lessons I didn’t ask for but needed to learn. It taught me to appreciate presence while it exists. To speak honestly instead of assuming time is guaranteed. To understand that people can care deeply and still leave. And most importantly, it taught me that my worth is not defined by who stays or who walks away. Today, when I think about that goodbye, it no longer feels like an open wound. It feels like a scar—proof that something real once existed, and that I survived its ending. I still believe in connections. I still believe in people. But now I understand that not every goodbye will give me the dignity of preparation. Some goodbyes arrive quietly, without permission, and change you forever. And maybe that’s okay. Because even the goodbyes we’re never prepared for shape who we become—and sometimes, they lead us closer to ourselves.
By Khan 8 months ago in Chapters
NO WATER NO BRAIN
Water is the most essential nutrient for human survival, and the brain is one of the organs most dependent on adequate hydration. Nearly 85 % of the human brain is composed of water, which plays a critical role in maintaining its structure, supporting chemical reactions, and enabling communication between nerve cells. Even a mild deficiency of water—commonly known as dehydration—can significantly affect brain function, mood, and overall mental performance. Understanding how water deficiency impacts the brain highlights why regular hydration is vital for cognitive health.
By Ibrahim Shah 8 months ago in Chapters
UpScrolled App Review: A New Social Platform Breaking Digital Censorship
Since October 8, 2023, the war that Israel has been waging against Gaza has not only targeted people's lives and buildings, but it has also affected how truth is shared online. While Palestinians were recording the destruction of their lives through videos and photos, they also faced a hidden battle on social media. Big platforms used their systems to remove content, limit its visibility, and silence Palestinian voices through secret rules. This effort to silence Palestinians wasn't just a mistake—it was a clear attempt to cut them off from the world and strip them of one of the most powerful tools of the modern age. Because of this, there was a need for a new platform that could break through the information block and give a space where people could share without being controlled by money or politics. That's how the "UpScrolled" app was created at the end of 2023 and the start of 2024. It was designed as a response to the restrictions put on Palestinian content by big platforms like Meta and TikTok. Behind this project is Issam Hijazi, a Palestinian-Australian tech expert who has worked at companies like IBM and Oracle. He developed the app after his personal accounts were blocked and after he lost several family members in Gaza, in order to build a space that is free from political pressure. UpScrolled works like a short video sharing app, similar to TikTok and Instagram Reels, but with a key difference in how it handles content. While other platforms block certain types of political or humanitarian content, UpScrolled uses an open system that shows content based on what users are interested in and how they interact with it. It doesn't block words related to humanitarian or political topics. Within a few months, the app became very popular and made it into the top downloaded apps on Apple and Google. It ranked 11th in the US and 12th in the UK. This popularity shows how much people around the world want platforms where they can speak freely, especially as digital control over information about human rights and justice grows. UpScrolled isn't just an entertainment app; it's a project that supports the idea of digital democracy. Issam Hijazi used the slogan, "The voice of Palestine will never be restricted," and spread this message to people who are oppressed or ignored online. This app is an example of using science and technology as a way to peacefully resist, breaking through borders and reaching global awareness without being controlled by surveillance. With support from the US, Israel launched a two-year war on Gaza starting in 2023, killing over 71,000 Palestinians and injuring more than 171,000—mostly children and women. The war has destroyed nearly 90% of Gaza’s civilian buildings, and the UN has estimated the cost of rebuilding Gaza at about seven billion dollars. Around 1.5 million people have been forced to leave their homes. By February 2, 2026, UpScrolled had reached 2.5 million users. According to the Google Play Store and the Apple App Store, it has become the most downloaded social media app in the US and Canada, with growing interest in the UK, France, Germany, and Italy. UpScrolled's algorithm helps users find posts based on likes, comments, and shares, with time-based changes and some randomness, all shown in order. According to the app's website, there's no interference. The app looks like a mix of Instagram and Twitter, letting users share text, photos, and videos. It also allows private messaging. It's available for iOS and Android, with plans to expand further.
By Pets and animals 8 months ago in Chapters
Eight reasons why women are unable to achieve satisfaction even after having sex
Understanding sexual expectations in people—especially in women—can sometimes be difficult. Even sexologists and doctors face challenges in this area. Much more work is still needed to understand this subject because many women are unable to enjoy sexual satisfaction even during romantic relationships. Some women even say that they have never experienced sexual fulfillment in their entire lives. There are many factors that contribute to sexual pleasure for women in relationships. These factors also include the thoughts that come to their minds and the physical and emotional effects those thoughts have on them. This report discusses eight factors that prevent women from enjoying satisfaction during sexual relations, leaving them feeling unfulfilled despite being in a romantic relationship. Bitter experiences of the past If a woman has experienced a violent or painful incident in the past that changed her perception of sexual relationships, it can create difficulties in her future relationships. In such cases, the affected woman is advised to talk openly with her partner or husband and share her past experiences. However, it can be difficult for any woman to discuss such topics with another person, even her husband or partner. In these situations, help from specialists can be sought. Dr. Hector Galván, head of the Madrid Institute of Psychiatry and Communication, says: “It is very difficult because memories of such bitter experiences are quite disturbing, and talking about what happened in the past can increase mental stress.” Fatigue Dr. Galván says that, according to his experience, most women are unable to achieve satisfaction during sexual activity due to fatigue. “Any body needs freedom and relaxation to achieve sexual fulfillment.” He adds that even if the body is tired, some sensations may still be felt, but for complete satisfaction it is essential that both body and mind are fully relaxed and free from all worries. Many women become exhausted from daily chores, household responsibilities, and caring for children. Despite not achieving sexual satisfaction due to fatigue, they often pretend to be satisfied. Psychologists say this should be avoided. They advise that couples should talk to each other to understand these issues and find solutions. Lack of communication During sex, we can guess to some extent how our partner is feeling, but it is not possible to fully understand their emotions. You may estimate from your partner’s sounds, movements, and expressions how they feel, but the better way is to tell each other about your feelings and how you are experiencing the moment. Experts say many women even find it difficult to tell their partner to change their sleeping or intimate style. They emphasize that you must tell your partner about your preferences and needs—only then will they be able to understand them. Lack of foreplay Dr. Galván says that in recent years there has been a growing trend toward spending more time on foreplay. Foreplay refers to the emotional, physical, or mental activities carried out before sexual intercourse to prepare for intimacy. However, the problem is not only about time but also about what should be done and how it should be done during foreplay. It would be better for women to clearly tell their partner before regular sex what they want and how it can be achieved. Dr. Galván says: “Women often tell us that men have no idea what to do or how to do it, but they are afraid to tell their partners because they think it might hurt their feelings or embarrass them.” Lack of sexual desire According to the British Department of Health, women may face mental stress at different stages of life such as during pregnancy, after childbirth, or during menopause. Stress, anxiety, side effects of medicines, or hormonal changes can also cause a decrease in sexual desire in women. All these factors can affect how a woman feels in her romantic relationship. The health department states that when a woman’s body produces less testosterone, sexual desire may decrease. This can also be due to problems in hormone-related glands. In such cases, experts advise consulting a doctor immediately. Imposing one’s will on others Experts say that when the Institute of Mindfulness and Dating reviewed the relationships of some couples complaining about lack of sexual satisfaction, it was found that some people impose their own wishes on their partner or force them to do what they themselves like. Therefore, it is important to keep both body and mind relaxed and free, and not try to impose one’s will. Pain during sex Another reason why women are unable to achieve sexual satisfaction is severe pain during intercourse. This condition is called “vaginismus,” in which the muscles of a woman’s vagina tighten. Due to this unnecessary contraction of muscles, a woman experiences intense pain during sex. According to the British Department of Health, this condition can sometimes make affected women less inclined toward sexual relations. Dr. Galván says: “This can also happen when women have negative feelings about sex or have suffered trauma during childbirth or surgery.” He adds: “When the brain sees something (sex) as punishment or pain, a woman’s desire decreases and she begins to avoid intimacy.” If there is vaginal dryness or infection, it is advised to consult a doctor. Problems in marital relationships Experts believe another major issue that reduces sexual desire in women is tension in marital relationships. Dr. Galván says: “Sometimes people come to us complaining about lack of sexual satisfaction, but when we examine the situation, we realize that the real problem lies in the couple’s mutual relationship.” He advises that if this is the case, it is very important to identify misunderstandings and conflicts causing tension in the relationship and to resolve them.
By Pets and animals 8 months ago in Chapters
The Truth I Was Too Afraid to Admit
The Truth I Was Too Afraid to Admit BY: Khan For years, I mastered the art of looking fine. I smiled in photos, laughed at the right moments, and replied to messages with a casual “all good” even when nothing felt good at all. From the outside, my life looked stable—steady work, familiar faces, routine days. Inside, though, something was quietly unraveling. I felt like a guest in my own life, showing up but never fully present. The truth I was too afraid to admit wasn’t dramatic or loud. It didn’t arrive with a breakdown or a sudden collapse. It whispered. And maybe that’s why it took me so long to hear it. I wasn’t living the life I wanted. I was living the life I thought I was supposed to want. I told myself I was being practical. Responsible. Mature. I followed the path that seemed safe, the one that earned nods of approval. I ignored the small voice that asked uncomfortable questions—Is this really you? Are you happy, or just busy? I buried that voice under deadlines, expectations, and the comfort of familiarity. Admitting dissatisfaction felt ungrateful. After all, so many people had less. So I learned to minimize my feelings, convincing myself that wanting more meant I was selfish. I stayed quiet because silence felt easier than explaining something I didn’t fully understand myself. But silence has a cost. It showed up in the way mornings felt heavy before they even began. In the way Sundays carried more anxiety than peace. In the strange emptiness that followed achievements I was supposed to celebrate. I kept reaching milestones, only to realize they didn’t move me the way I thought they would. One evening, after another long day that felt exactly like the one before it, I caught my reflection in a dark window. I looked tired—but not the kind of tired sleep could fix. That was the moment something cracked. I finally admitted the truth I had been avoiding: I was afraid to change because I was afraid to disappoint people. I had built my life around being dependable, predictable, acceptable. Walking away from that felt like betrayal—to my family, my friends, even the version of myself I had presented to the world. What if I failed? What if I regretted leaving what I had worked so hard to build? Fear had disguised itself as loyalty. Once I named it, I couldn’t unsee it. I realized how often I said yes when I meant no. How often I stayed quiet when something mattered. How often I chose comfort over honesty. The truth wasn’t that I didn’t know what I wanted—I knew. I just didn’t trust myself enough to go after it. Admitting that didn’t magically fix everything. It didn’t come with clarity or instant courage. But it gave me something more important: direction. I started small. I began telling the truth in places where it felt safer—admitting when I was tired, when I needed space, when something didn’t align with me anymore. I allowed myself to disappoint people without apologizing for existing. And slowly, something shifted. The weight I’d been carrying wasn’t the life itself—it was the pretending. I learned that honesty doesn’t always change your circumstances right away, but it changes your relationship with yourself. And that matters more than I ever realized. For the first time in years, my choices began to feel like mine. The truth I was too afraid to admit didn’t ruin my life. It gave it back to me. I still don’t have all the answers. I still feel fear. But now, fear no longer makes my decisions for me. I understand that growth often looks like loss at first—that becoming yourself may require letting go of who you were trying to be. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: Ignoring your truth doesn’t make it disappear. It just waits, patiently, until you’re brave enough to listen. I’m still learning how to live honestly. But every day I choose honesty over fear, I feel a little more like myself. And for the first time, that feels like enough.
By Khan 8 months ago in Chapters