Collective pressure acts in silence, but with a constancy capable of wearing down the most singular aspects. What is born as firm authenticity becomes fragile before the repetition of the common, until the difference begins to feel heavy, almost unbearable.
In that silent wear and tear, identity yields, loosens, allows itself to be dragged along by the surrounding mass. Not by choice, but by exhaustion.
A tension between being and belonging, where the unique ends up diluting into the collective.
Until what is one's own, finally, disappears.
