@zozi_hu: انــا خـايـف بالگــبـر ماكـو ليالي فـاطـمـيـة 💔💔 . . . #باسم_الكربلائي #فاطمة_الزهراء #اللهم_صل_على_محمد_وآل_محمد #اللهم_عجل_لوليك_الفرج #يا_زهراء

. زِ | ١٤٢٥.
. زِ | ١٤٢٥.
Open In TikTok:
Region: IQ
Saturday 27 September 2025 19:42:18 GMT
6762
974
3
82

Music

Download

Comments

user2614772543466
سيد علي الفاضلي :
💔💔💔
2025-09-27 22:40:14
1
userfhkamqchnc
Zainab🎀 :
💔💔💔
2025-09-27 21:42:27
1
z_m1r5
زَيـنب. :
2025-10-01 16:08:52
0
To see more videos from user @zozi_hu, please go to the Tikwm homepage.

Other Videos

I've been noticing this a lot lately. Every time I scroll, I see people being real — not just sharing the highlight reel, but letting us in on the messy, beautiful, complicated parts of life. There’s something so human about that. It makes TikTok feel less like an app and more like a giant living room where we’re all figuring things out together. Crying on TikTok isn’t always about sadness. Sometimes it’s relief, joy, a memory sneaking up on you, or that feeling of being proud of how far you’ve come. I’ve watched people post tears of excitement because they hit a milestone they never thought they’d reach, or tears of gratitude after finally walking through a door they’d been knocking on for years. It reminds me that behind every video is a person with a story. When I first started creating here, I thought every post needed to be perfect. Clean cuts, trending sounds, clever captions. But over time, I learned that the moments people hold onto are the ones that come from the heart. They don’t need polish — they need honesty. That’s why these “crying videos” resonate so much: they’re proof that connection is stronger than presentation. If you’re thinking about sharing something emotional, here’s what’s helped me: 1. Check in with yourself first. Make sure posting is what you actually want. You don’t owe the internet every feeling you have. 2. Give a little context. Even one sentence about what’s behind the tears helps others connect instead of guessing. 3. Remember your boundaries. You get to decide what stays private. Protecting your peace is part of creating, too. 4. Look after your comments section. Most people will be kind, but if something feels toxic, you’re allowed to delete or block. Your page is your space. I love that TikTok has become a place where we can be brave enough to let people see us, even when we’re not at 100%. Some of the strongest communities I’ve seen here grew out of someone simply sharing a moment of truth. That’s powerful. There’s also a lot of hope inside these videos. Crying isn’t the end of the story — it’s often the start of one. Maybe you’re healing, maybe you’re celebrating, maybe you’re just letting something heavy go. Whatever it is, you never know who might need to hear that they’re not alone. I’ve had messages from people saying, “Your video gave me courage to finally talk about what I was feeling.” That’s the kind of ripple effect social media can have when we use it with heart. If you’ve never shared a moment like this, you don’t have to rush. Sometimes just watching and leaving a kind comment is enough. Other times, filming yourself is part of processing — a way to put words (or tears) around something that’s been sitting quietly inside. Either way, you’re allowed to show up as you are. So let’s make this a safe space today. Drop a 💧 emoji if you’ve ever cried on TikTok or if someone else’s video has made you feel seen. Tell me about a time you felt moved by a post — or share your own story if you’re ready. I’ll be reading through and cheering you on. At the end of the day, that’s what keeps me coming back after all this time. It’s not just about views or trends; it’s the reminder that behind every account is a heartbeat. We’re all carrying something, and sometimes sharing it helps us carry it better. Whether your tears come from laughter, frustration, or gratitude, there’s room for them here. That’s the magic of this platform: it lets us build tiny bridges to each other’s lives. And even on the days when everything feels heavy, scrolling through stories of hope and resilience can remind you that light is still out there. So, have you ever cried on TikTok? What was the moment about, and did pressing “post” help you heal, celebrate, or breathe a little easier? I’d love to know. ❤️
I've been noticing this a lot lately. Every time I scroll, I see people being real — not just sharing the highlight reel, but letting us in on the messy, beautiful, complicated parts of life. There’s something so human about that. It makes TikTok feel less like an app and more like a giant living room where we’re all figuring things out together. Crying on TikTok isn’t always about sadness. Sometimes it’s relief, joy, a memory sneaking up on you, or that feeling of being proud of how far you’ve come. I’ve watched people post tears of excitement because they hit a milestone they never thought they’d reach, or tears of gratitude after finally walking through a door they’d been knocking on for years. It reminds me that behind every video is a person with a story. When I first started creating here, I thought every post needed to be perfect. Clean cuts, trending sounds, clever captions. But over time, I learned that the moments people hold onto are the ones that come from the heart. They don’t need polish — they need honesty. That’s why these “crying videos” resonate so much: they’re proof that connection is stronger than presentation. If you’re thinking about sharing something emotional, here’s what’s helped me: 1. Check in with yourself first. Make sure posting is what you actually want. You don’t owe the internet every feeling you have. 2. Give a little context. Even one sentence about what’s behind the tears helps others connect instead of guessing. 3. Remember your boundaries. You get to decide what stays private. Protecting your peace is part of creating, too. 4. Look after your comments section. Most people will be kind, but if something feels toxic, you’re allowed to delete or block. Your page is your space. I love that TikTok has become a place where we can be brave enough to let people see us, even when we’re not at 100%. Some of the strongest communities I’ve seen here grew out of someone simply sharing a moment of truth. That’s powerful. There’s also a lot of hope inside these videos. Crying isn’t the end of the story — it’s often the start of one. Maybe you’re healing, maybe you’re celebrating, maybe you’re just letting something heavy go. Whatever it is, you never know who might need to hear that they’re not alone. I’ve had messages from people saying, “Your video gave me courage to finally talk about what I was feeling.” That’s the kind of ripple effect social media can have when we use it with heart. If you’ve never shared a moment like this, you don’t have to rush. Sometimes just watching and leaving a kind comment is enough. Other times, filming yourself is part of processing — a way to put words (or tears) around something that’s been sitting quietly inside. Either way, you’re allowed to show up as you are. So let’s make this a safe space today. Drop a 💧 emoji if you’ve ever cried on TikTok or if someone else’s video has made you feel seen. Tell me about a time you felt moved by a post — or share your own story if you’re ready. I’ll be reading through and cheering you on. At the end of the day, that’s what keeps me coming back after all this time. It’s not just about views or trends; it’s the reminder that behind every account is a heartbeat. We’re all carrying something, and sometimes sharing it helps us carry it better. Whether your tears come from laughter, frustration, or gratitude, there’s room for them here. That’s the magic of this platform: it lets us build tiny bridges to each other’s lives. And even on the days when everything feels heavy, scrolling through stories of hope and resilience can remind you that light is still out there. So, have you ever cried on TikTok? What was the moment about, and did pressing “post” help you heal, celebrate, or breathe a little easier? I’d love to know. ❤️

About