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ไทยสมัยนั้น อูวว เวียนหัว

บันทึกการเข้า
In this hell, we live, lament, and observe. Flesh is weak; gold, dust. We walk bloodied routes of our own making, under simple rules: no undo, no repeat, only the path forward.
The final truth is a horrifying equation: life is chemistry, chemistry is physics, and physics is mathematics.
In this indifferent clockwork, we don’t seek an escape, but for a hand to hold for a moment—knowing even eternity cannot save that fragile warmth from becoming a memory.
This is our beautiful lament.