Instagram story viewer> @dj_deepofficial> Post

Ꭰᴊ᭄★Dᥱᥱρ★

@dj_deepofficial

a month ago

19

1

Posted On: September 13th 2026, 08:02 am

Comments (1)

indergarh__deepak

a month ago

indergarh__deepak

❤️❤️

More posts

Senior season ✍️

one month since the best weekend of my entire life 😭 so obviously you guys need to see some film pics 🎞️🤍

✨🦚👀🤭
Wearing: @anvira_designs
#fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp #explore #trending #transition #navratri

not sure if she’s ready!

#cnn #new #trump #debate #politics #fyp #MAGA

New White House press secretary Katie Zacharia faced reporters for the first time on Tuesday, delivering a brief 14-minute briefing and taking questions from just three media outlets.

In her opening remarks, she praised Donald Trump’s energy policies, saying he had restored US 'energy dominance', and credited his tariffs with stopping China from producing fentanyl precursor chemicals.

Asked how she would balance the demanding role with family life, Zacharia said missing evenings with her children wasn't acceptable before mistakenly referring to her husband as 'my president' and correcting herself, 'excuse me, my husband'.

I like to say the only grace I’ve been given was the hospital name on my birth certificate. Google says the hospital closed in 1979. It’s on my birth certificate, so maybe that’s a lie. Or my birth certificate is fake. Both are plausible. I guess I’ll never know- my Mom has the original copy. I haven’t spoken to her in years. She left when I was ten, right after the raid on Ashton. 19009 Ashton. I remember when she made us memorize it, me and my younger sister. 12 months apart. She got my Father’s face, I got my Mothers. I think that’s why she loved her and hated me. Every time we got our address wrong she’d pop me in the lip. I’d cry. She didn’t pop my sister. I guess seeing me get popped worked just as good. It wasn’t my Mother’s fault. She was bipolar, addicted to drugs. We adored her. I never forgot our address, even now, 20 years later. I haven’t been inside it in over a decade. But it’s seared into my brain- not because she popped me in the lip when I was 7- because of the raid. You don’t forget the place where something like that happens to you. They raided our house at night. Late. Past midnight. Or maybe it was nine, I don’t know, I was nine & I don’t have a Mother to ask. There was snow on the ground so high we built a snowman taller than the bushes. Right in front of the Christmas lights. She never forgot the Christmas lights. She let me have my own room & paint it mint green. It was in the den- the very back of the house. Two doors: a normal bedroom door & another you could step out of then onto the back porch. I could hear & feel the cold air leaking through its cracks. On my first night in my new room, I was alone with the biggest tv in the house because my Mother wasn’t strong enough to move it. My sister was asleep. My Mother had been locked in the attic, her bedroom, all day. I knew she was alive because every so often I’d press my ear to the door and hear the intro to Nip/Tuck. (continued in the comments)