I often wonder... is it better to live with hope, only to have it crushed, or to never hope at all? The truth is, we're all just pretending. Pretending that things will get better, that the world has some greater meaning or purpose.
But every day I watch as those around me keep hoping—and it fills me with... a strange kind of fascination. They live their lives with such conviction, as if there's a way out. But there isn’t.
Maybe that’s the beauty of it. The only certainty is that everything will eventually fall apart. So why pretend? Embrace the despair. It’s the only thing that’s real.
