Hello, survivor of the rotten world.

  You might be a student, trying your best to stay afloat while your classmates tear you down like it's sport.

  Or maybe you’re a father, killing yourself every day at a job where your boss treats you like garbage and your coworkers wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead.

  Or maybe—just maybe—you’re stuck. No job. No love. Just you and that mirror, asking the same damn question every day: “What now?”

  Or hell, maybe you've already given up.

  Maybe you’re a woman holding this book, hoping for a sliver of sense in the madness.

  But let me make something very clear—

  This book? It’s not what you expect.

  The world, as you know it, is already rotten.

  Some people live above the rules, shaping the world.

  Some live below them, crushed by its weight.

  And the rest of us? We just bleed quietly while the world judges us with a crooked scale.

  Is it luck to be born into a loving home?

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Then why not ask the quiet kid at the back of the class—the one who never smiles—what his home looks like?

  The answer might rattle that comfy little illusion you’ve built.

  Not everyone starts fair.

  Not everyone gets to roll the dice twice.

  But maybe—just maybe—life doesn’t care about fairness.

  Because life is nothing more than entropy—chaos, dressed up in calendars and routines.

  Now, you might be thinking:

  “This book must be written by someone who’s been through hell.”

  Funny thing is… not really.

  I was born with loving parents.

  I had friends. A mostly decent life.

  Sure, I’ve had my moments—but I always scraped by.

  Then one day, I heard about a young Indian boy.

  He was in 9th grade. Bullied so badly, he took his own life.

  Kids—just kids—drove him to that edge.

  And guess what?

  Those kids came from wealthy homes.

  Loving families, on the surface.

  No visible pain. No broken bones. No slums.

  So why? What the hell makes someone like that snap?

  What makes a child commit evil?

  What’s the missing ingredient?

  Was it neglect? Pressure? Emptiness?

  Because if even the ones who have everything can fall into darkness…

  Then what really matters?

  In history, some of the most twisted monsters came from perfect families.

  So the question is no longer who’s to blame—

  It’s what makes us human enough to break each other like this?