As you tiptoe—no, it’s a full shamble—into the darkness, know that it is not the absence of light that greets you, but rather the omnipresent cacophony of your own wits wandering astray.
“Why does the chicken cross the abyss?” you ponder, your internal monologue sounding suspiciously like an aging wizard with a penchant for bad puns, “To get to the other side of this page, assuming it ever materializes,” sighs the voice settled nonchalantly on the cusp of sanity and snacks.
Continue your descent │ Reconsider your choices