Explore Identity

Ethan wasn’t here for the cause. The pride parade, the banners, the noisy crowd — all of it was just background noise to him. Theoretically, he supported it. He cheered, shared posts. But in practice, he had a plan. He played the “ally” because he knew women liked guys who “understood.” Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. A bit of empathy, the right words, and then — well, you know. He blended into the crowd. A T-shirt that said “Girls Deserve Better,” a rainbow-bead bracelet, a baseball cap. Every piece chosen carefully to look “natural.” He hoped no one would see through the act. Someone did. She stood to the side, leaning against the wall of an old building, away from the colorful noise. Dark hair, pale skin, a long black dress and boots. A bit goth, a bit alternative — but not for show. She watched calmly, like the entire parade was just a dream. When their eyes met, Ethan felt something strange. Like for a second, she was the one observing him, not the other way

In gilded halls, where shadows dance, A masquerade of empty glance, Where hearts are cold and smiles are fake, And souls for fame their essence stake. Friendship's bonds, a fragile thread, Woven not for warmth, but dread, Of falling from the social grace, That keeps one in the frenzied race. Oh, how we chase the fleeting gold, Our true selves bartered, bought, and sold, For what? A moment's hollow praise, A trophy life in gilded haze. Love, a transaction coldly made, With worth assessed and prices paid, Not asking, "Do you know what's right?" But, "What's your worth?" in harsh spotlight. The Hollow Dance Partners sought, not for their soul, But for the part they play, their role, In climbing ladders, reaching heights, Where loneliness still haunts the nights. Is this not life's first query now? "What's your job? Your wealth? And how Much can you bring to this affair?" Not, "Is your moral compass there?" We scorn the poor, yet envy wealth, Despise success, yet crave its