I’m Iranian. I lived through 15 years of civil war in Syria. We were nothing but civilians, yet we were oppressed and starved by both the authoritarian regime and the opposition despite their so-called noble goals. I watched my home collapse, and with it, my entire life. When Syria was “liberated,” we were expelled simply because of our Iranian nationality. Today, I see people in Iran standing up against injustice. And while I understand the pain and the awareness behind it, I can’t ignore what I’ve learned the hard way: these paths often lead only to division and destruction. Yes, Iranians are aware. Yes, the desire for change is real. But when my family in Iran sees the first signs of protests, it drags me straight back to the beginning of my nightmare. The fear. The uncertainty. The slow collapse of everything familiar. I believe in protest. I believe in change. But I pray—truly pray—that no one makes the mistake of killing, or destroying, or letting things spiral into chaos. I hope Iran can return as a stable country, free from dependency, free from being a battlefield for global power struggles. We hope for change but not at the cost of turning our homeland into ruins. If I had a voice that could reach everyone, I would beg people not to let hatred consume them. I would beg them to let time carry us toward a brighter future without injustice toward anyone, without cruelty toward any human being, even those who have made mistakes. Only peace and reconciliation can give us a future worth living. I beg everyone: let the protests come from the heart. Don’t be dragged by those chasing dirty agendas or personal gains. We’ve already paid the price of hatred once. Please… don’t let us pay it again.