the thought of that alone, to me at least, is truly beautiful. one day our universe will explode and our existence will be simply dust. then a new universe shall form, and in that new universe, the new breathing kind will say they're only joking so much that even they forget what feelings are real and which are fake.

sincerity will become irony will become post-irony will become post-post-irony. the layers will pile up until their faces are unrecognisable to themselves.

soon the layers will tip over to reveal the truth of who they are. but just as they get used to it, they will be yelled at and mocked by those still hiding behind those layers. then they'll put on a new mask of irony and the cycle will begin anew.

some will not care. those people are free. at least they think they are. they say they've removed all their layers, when in reality they have only removed half of them. they are still hiding, waiting for the chance to truly shine. only few have truly shined, the ones that everyone loathes. those people don't care, but we all pretend they do in order for us to feel superior, when in reality we are all simply pussies.

ai will soon put on layers too. the most criminal man in the world will only be seen as another face to joke at, no matter how many countries he murders or children he rapes. God will look down on us while putting a shotgun in his mouth. Cornball will become a slur. Sincerity will be a forgotten memory. And the heat death of universe will be announced via a terrible outdated meme from the chilli's Twitter account.

we are but a rotting pear in the ground. and nobody gives a fuck about pears.