Hotel California

It’s the illusion of paradise—like moving in with someone, imagining nights full of laughter, connection, and comfort, only to find silent meals, cold beds, and empty promises instead. It’s embracing a new faith, thirsting for spiritual purity, and then realizing its holy waters stain your hands darker with every dip. Priest, that’s a pretty good hustle! It’s the blind conviction that wealth alone can shield you from life’s pain; the belief that mountains of gold can silence midnight whispers of doubt, loneliness, and emptiness. Paradise isn’t always a haven—it often turns into a gilded cage, beautifully painted yet suffocating within.

 

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