The Tab is Closed. The Self-Loathing Begins. You Know This Feeling.

It's 2 AM. You're scrolling through the curated lives of OF models, feeding on a dopamine drip that leaves you emptier than before. You call it 'winding down,' but it's a slow surrender. You're trading your ambition for pixels, your energy for a fleeting chemical high, and your potential for a fantasy that actively despises your success. This isn't just a bad habit. It's a slow-acting poison to your masculine core.