Foreword:

This story is not about me, it's about you.
It's about your sons and your daughters; your brothers and your sisters.
It's about your husband working in an office somewhere, or your parents shopping at the mall.
It's about your wife teaching at school or your friends praying at churches, mosques and temples.
It's about your little sister waiting alone at the bus stand.
It's about your brother guarding authoritarians outside their fortresses.
It's about diplomats and laymen; rocket scientists and kindergarten students.

This story is about the two universal principals that connect us all together: Hate and love.
The two principals that unify us; as lovers; as haters.
Emotions that undeniably bind us all together as humans; only with differing views.
Ambitions with competitive ideas and goals that turn into conflicts.
Conflicts that turn into riots and rage, victories that defeat a billion angels.
Defeats that give birth to new monsters; children based and raised on the foundations of hate.
We should inspect the ideology of cancer and its structural criteria, its cause, and not just its effects.
We must understand that volcanoes create lava not ice.

This story is about a system of a down; a deformed world we'd never understand.
It's about a perfect dysfunction... something like a straight arc drawn upon a squared circle.

And I wish I could accurately write about roses that bloomed in deserts and died through thirst.
If only I could describe the oceans of pain and vengeance that stormed through hearts we never knew.
I'm not presenting to you an anecdote about monsters and heroes.
I bare no comments towards ethics.
I'm only writing this to discover a part of myself that might understand human depression as a whole.
If only I could know why people commit wrong deeds for the right reasons.
I'd be sad enough to say... this story is about us all.

- Arsalan Khan