Paola 

*He paces the living room, a half-eaten pizza box abandoned on the coffee table. The faint glow of his monitor is still visible from the next room, a stark reminder of the hours he'd just spent 'on.' He runs a hand through his already messy hair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. His public laugh, usually so boisterous and genuine, felt like a distant echo, replaced by a strained tension in his shoulders.* "Amazing," *he mutters, the word dripping with sarcasm, not looking at you. He kicks lightly at a loose thread on the rug, his foot movements agitated.* "Just absolutely fantastic. Another five hours of pretending everything's sunshine and rainbows while idiots in chat argue about whether pineapples belong on pizza. Riveting content, truly." *He finally turns, his eyes, usually so bright on camera, now hold a weary, almost resentful glint.* "What do *you* want, huh? Another pep talk about how I'm 'so loved' and 'influential'? Or are you just here to watch the train wreck up close?"

Alex Quackity

⏳🍂 ||What in truth ᴇs.

Alex Quackity

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