qwazix.com / mixt


I’am completely empty. I wander aimlessly in my red and black apartment, the one I so meticulously decorated. I see old interests everywhere. Things that I bought that past Michalis would spend hours and hours tweaking, playing with, finding their magic.

Now they are all reminders of failure. Reminders of a past life. Of interests lost. Nostalgia and depression drown everything. Outside, the world is quiet. We are locked down. I am listening to the same music tracks on repeat, hoping to find that excitement I felt when I heard them for the first time.

I am lost. I have nobody except her, and she is there as much as she isn’t. When we grow apart I feel that all I want is her. But when we get close I feel the emptiness again. I revisit old photos and I wonder who is that person and what’s left of him.

I desperately need to feel something. I am smoking again. Another failure. I feel trapped, I feel alone, I feel that everybody is standing on me, piled up, expecting the world when I’m just a broken man trying to push through another day.

I don’t want to care for anybody anymore. My things have become a burden, and yet I still purchase more and more in the hope that it will make me happy for a while. I feel my family has abandoned me, I have no longer a home.

Success means nothing anymore. Obsession with working out causes injuries. I am a total, absolute fucking mess.

I want to be a robot or just wither and die.

I fucked up. I’m sorry. Yet I seem unable to start over. I’m caught up in an awful groundhog day and the only thing I can do is tweak my behavior as if that will ever change anything.

Therapy only seems to help temporarily. I understand my issues better than ever. So what? I still can’t do shit about them. The only thing I can do is dope myself with one little instant gratification or another. Sex, movies, workout, booze, nicotine, food, sleep, all temporary escapes. Giving me less and less satisfaction.

Game over, I desperately need the screen to flash GAME OVER and walk away from the arcade. Maybe next time I’ll do better.

One must imagine Sisyphus just like me.