He was utterly exhausted by the endless chorus of lies, by the fixed smiles and hollow words of those who surrounded him. Each day was a performance, and he was the sole audience member who could see behind the masks, wearied by the hollow echoes where genuine souls should have been. Their empty promises and feigned sympathies had, piece by piece, fractured his spirit.
Finally, he could endure it no longer. He chose to vanish, not merely to leave, but to retreat completely into the profound solitude of his own heart. It was a self-imposed exile into a quiet, personal abyss. A sanctuary he knew to be darker, deeper, and infinitely more real than the shallow emptiness he left behind.
