Violence

Sometimes love is like survival training: it seems to be about tenderness, but all around are minefields of unspoken words. Everyone is trying to "level up," become better, more tolerant, smarter - but in the end, it's like in an old shooter: everyone is busy, but there's no joy. The voice sounds tired, as if after a long conversation where everyone is right in their own way, but it hasn't brought any happiness. Behind the beat is restraint, behind the words is anxiety, as if someone inside is whispering: "Don't start the war again." And it's almost a prayer - for love without drama, without gunshots, and without endless attempts to prove who tries harder. Just let it be quiet. Let love not hurt, just once.