BeyondTheAstral

This was a Sonata of a profound and terrifying truth: we are all victims of our own trauma, wounded by others and by ourselves, until that pain is stitched deep into our bones, becoming our defining feature—our "truest" self.

Its characters are trapped. Some are prisoners in their own heads; others are locked in a reality entirely of their mind's making. For them, the line between truth and delusion is as thin as a flip of a coin. The relentless truth is, you can never run from yourself. What's "real" isn't a fact, but what has shaped you, scarred you, and twisted your reflection.

Haah~ How poetically and tragically beautiful that ending was... it pierced right through me.
We watch a man desperately scrubbing at a wall,trying to wipe away the madness, the visions, the patterns as his very faith begins to bleed. It is the ultimate revelation: that erasing what you see doesn't change the air you breathe, the reality that crawls into your skin, gnawing at your very core, ruling over you until you succumb to it. Your internal reality remains, and the effort to destroy it only reveals deeper, more severe layers of torment.

It takes a journey through hell and back to truly accept that our perceived reality is just a reflection in a mirror warped by a tangle of pain, suffering, guilt, and the self.

So in the end, all you can do is smile while you cry, a puppet to your own mind. You scrub away at your memories and identity, but you're not cleaning anything. You're just breaking. Fading, piece by piece, by your own hand.