This is the never-ending Corridor of Infinite Despair, where the walls are made of hopelessness, the floors are covered in despair, and the ceilings are painted with tears.
Here, the air is thick with desperation, the shadows are long and foreboding, and the silence is only broken by the occasional scream of the damned.
This wall has no end, no beginning, no reprieve, and no respite.
It stretches on forever, a seemingly endless expanse of cold, unforgiving concrete.
This floor is a never-ending expanse of polished black marble, reflecting the depths of your own despair.
Every step you take echoes through the chamber, a hollow sound that haunts your every move.
This reflection is a hall of mirrors, each one showing a different you, all of you, in a state of perpetual sorrow.
You see yourself as a failure, a disappointment, a disappointment to yourself.
This pit is a never-ending well of questions, each one a reminder of what went wrong.
You stare into its depths, searching for answers, but only see more questions staring back at you.