It's profoundly whitepilling that love songs still have resonance in this era of acute isolation and subjective omni-management. Inside your overleveraged pen, you are playing for dopamine pellets until your circuits fry and you CTD. So touch grass, right? ROFL. It's too expensive to leave your hovel, and when you do, you immediately become enmeshed in the tendrils of a web of predatory invisible eyes (ie every chud-skulled, mouth-breather with a smartphone and the lo-jacked data-mining cancer box in your own back pocket), and then when you've trotted long enough to squat in a brunch village, biding your time for the privilege of paying for a Sysco sizzler platter, you run a 50/50 chance of becoming a victim of an industrial accident or a deranged dissident radicalized in a Discord with four other "people"* in it... What a time to be (allegedly) alive (well, not for long...)! Even in this open suicidality sewer, somehow your average floating eye still grasps at hope, still longs to meet the gaze of another floating eye in answer to the yearning search that a spark of affinity may lower a drawbridge over the gulf between them and allow the trails of their synapses to commingle. Even in a suffocating void, a simple glance can usher in enough oxygen to evade anoxia. A thought of someone you miss may find them in their dreams and comfort them in the dark- spiritual succor for the sanctioned, like a file in a loaf of bread mailed to a prisoner staring down a life sentence. A whisper carried on a gallant rhythm, a compliment rolling off a chorus, hearts pulsing in time to a beat pushed through wireless speakers in distant locales, keeping time and keeping faith. The miasma of this manufactured somnambulist modernity will lift someday, and when that happens, you'll find the person who was crying out to you through the fog and over the electric mnemonic-ramparts, and you can sing the songs that you pre-compiled together in the DMs of the astral strata while you wrestled separately in the partitions of a machine-demarcated info-clink. Maybe you won't need h4rtbrkr's me & u (h2rtbrkr) EP when you arrive at the doorstep of such a fate, but in the interregnum, the leaky cache of your heartbreak will at least have a righteous score.
*ops, rogue AI, vtube chatters, and other entities that pass for human in our day and age.
