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End

I feel like my life has reached an end long before it’s actually over, yet I’m still here, stuck in the routine of going through the motions. It’s as if I’m trudging through a story that’s lost its plot, but I’m forced to keep turning the pages. The spark that once drove me feels extinguished, replaced by a heavy sense of obligation to keep going, even when every day feels like a replay of the last. I’m trapped between the final curtain and the relentless demand to continue performing, haunted by the feeling that the best moments have passed but still compelled to push forward, step by weary step, hoping for some glimpse of meaning in what remains.










































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