I have spend several days at my house and I already feel suffocated.
Losing the sense of time
I am such a mess.

..
woke up in the midnight to pee
I don't want to go
I don't want to activate my body and start thinking again
but in the end I will go, I have to
the moment I sat on the toilet I started to think, then I have to be fast and run again to bed so everthing will disappear.

..
woke up again at 8
it's early, still nothing to do, still no point
I will stay a bit more try to puss myself to sleep
yet again my appetite for sleep is gone, just rolling in my tiny bed trying to find a good position
pointless
I am going to wake up again with the same headache and dizziness as yesterday.

I feel my body weaker, no energy to move myself around the room.
At this point food becomes more like survival instinct, an apathetic interest on eating is just how it is.
No matter cooking three different dishes my desire to touch them has allegedly gone.
Again, my acquirement needs silence, even then the sounds I play on my speaker is nothing more than a noise, conversations that in my mind are nothing less than
cracked empty words
but I still continue letting it play, on and off, I seek a company that monologue itself, and me, myself have no trouble trying to talk.
yet again night comes fast and unraveled.

I do not know where I should go nor what shall I do
I cannot discern what my means have accomplished
I feel defeated
lost in the mess of my mind
surely not pleasantly surprised I am a victim of my own fantasies

My attempts to sleep more and paralyze my body and mind blocking it from functioning have fallen out of hand
there are useless and unnecessary importand
as if sleep would erase all these horrors I see in the physical world.
It is only going to last for a bit
and then you will wake up and everything will be there, hungry and careless to manifest into anything your fear was meant to be
a trouble maker
a red shiny dot in complete darkness.

Then again I am not in a good place to judge and I could continue describing this form of distress in many different ways.
To that end there is no end

One's will become cynical while will disregard any emotional value that will perceived as unconditional

what is unconditional anyway?
I have heard it and I have felt it but in my offence
is just a joke
maybe not exactly a joke but still an expectation that has no way to turn, is only one way before it reaches nothing
after all, there is no rule on how to play this game
because it is a game, a gambling to be precise, one day you will win and the next you will lose.

Right now I feel a slight relief, sooner or later an action must be taken
whether this might be a text, in spite that, it remains deeply in my heart, this notion of surrender that somehow needs to be excecuted
regardless the power of the result it has come into words that now can be spoken
my mind can follow a coherence
and this coherence shall bring a light in my suffering.

Coming to the recent years, I reflect
it is requeried to do
and this reflection has to be in all points of view
I was not that generous to myself
I never felt the need to do
I beleive that decisions and goals come with great risk and sacrifices.
Sometimes hapiness is one of them, strange but honest
but is this goal aiming an infinite happiness or an idea of a happy settlement?
This I cannot answer, this is something myself questions till now
though I did gamble on this I now come to face it as it would give me an answer.
It wouldn't
and perhaps it shouldn't.

This brings me in a position where I have no courage
rules that accompanied me for quite some time and stood along my side have now turn their back on me
now they seem to be values that I am no longer sure if they are acceptable.

Of course me just as you at some point we will become enemies of our own false theories
relatively speaking, noone knows better his mistakes than the perpetrator himself.




..
8 again and even so I haven't come to an agreement with myself.

To my friend that never reached,

Bounding in despair, I have been swallowed by the gravity.
Surrendered to the deepest of the hollow is the least unwillingless battle I can give.
I try to look around but I see no faces, I have no sympathy left.
No power to rule.
Settled, nowhere, somewhere beyond.
I am left with no agony, half misery half bitterness.
I a m o k.
I hate you for making me feel.
I hate that I love you unconditionally, even when my dignity has been forsaken by remorse
and for the most I hate myself for being drifted by it.
To the one who cannot be named, who lacks of any empathic value.
Him, whose conscious has never fallen by the wall of his manner.
He is the fight that I never won and I never will.

My dearest melancholic friend,

I dare you to joke with life itself, it is an utter comedy, a tragic death of our own idea about life.
Unfulfilled and yet still undesired, life, in such a peculiar way shows her real face, I can see now, no man can cheat happiness.
No man can be enough.
We fight one another in a battle that has been already defeated by ourselves, our fears and ego.
Which land can sustain such tragedy and which capacity can bare it?
Less than a human and more like an animal the will grows spiral, imagination is the extend or the safe trap for all this hollowness.
My friend, whose dreams and desires shattered unexpected we still fight for something greater than this.
It is our lives that need to be protected and bare that our existence will meet happiness at last.

For my incompetent comfort to understand
and my will to love

Foteini