Cyborg Writer

Time flys towards my expiration date.

Trapped in life's empty cycle, you lose purpose, feel numb, and slowly vanish, as existence devours you whole. To escape the body is to shed pain, yet in seeking freedom, we confront the inescapable trap of existence itself.

Consider this: the universe may be infinite, and yet, despite all its vastness, your life could end without leaving a trace—does that make your existence meaningful, or insignificant?