Power move.
Pretend to have a plan.
Cue the usual chaos.
Melancholy with a soundtrack—
tragedy scored in a minor key,
wrapped in poetic nonsense.
Every breakdown gets its own climax.
Every heartbreak, a metaphor.
Cute.
And in the end?
It’s all just ironic noise.
Suffering with punchlines.
Satire in slow motion.
But hey—
you’ll figure it out.
Like always, right?
Funny how the lie starts sounding wise
when you’ve heard it enough.
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