Every day now, Tehran and Iran wake beneath the sound of explosions and fighter jets.

Is it frightening. Yes.
Have we been torn out of the rhythm of ordinary life. Yes.
Is death possible for us, for our families, for the people we love. Yes.

But there is something even more terrifying than all of that: this storm ending, and the terrorist Islamic Regime occupying Iran still standing over our homeland.

That is the part the outside world keeps pretending not to understand. They suddenly discovered concern for Iranian lives now, now that war has reached the sky. But during the Jan uprising, during the great massacre, during the blackout, while innocent Iranians were hunted, tortured, and buried in silence, most of these same voices said nothing. Not one cry for Iran. Not one word for our dead. Not one ounce of rage for our stolen youth.

So spare us the performance. Spare us the counterfeit pity draped in anti war slogans. We remember exactly where your voice was when Iran was bleeding in the dark.

For us, the deepest nightmare is not the sound of war overhead. It is the thought of waking after all this, and finding the occupation still alive.