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Every day I wake up in apathy. Daily routine wears me out. Wake up, eat breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, go to work, go back home, eat dinner, watch Netflix, you're tired, sleep. Wake up and do it again, again and again.

MELANCHOLIA is about the sorrow of this frenzied routine. 

Part I - Morning Rituals

Mornings are colourless. No matter the sun, no matter the beauty of this city, I don't have time. I struggle to keep this pace. Every move I make brings me inexorably closer to the front door. I need motivation. The coffee is cold and the food is tasteless. The shower is burning hot, but I don't feel anything. I'm late, I wear the usual boring clothes and I run.

Part II - Daytime Perdition

Days run fast. I try to play the role. I pretend to enjoy, but it's so damn hard. They always want me to go full throttle. I feel blue. Everybody dances around me, as I stand still staring at them in dispair. I take part to conversations I don't listen to. I nod in agreement to satisfy them. They are happy, I feel like trash. I don't recognise myself anymore.

Part III - Bedtime Madness

I'm home. I take a glass of beer to leave this day behind me. I take another one and another one again. I please myself in this warmth. My mind rejoys of freedom. New ideas pop up unexpectedly. For a moment I fooled myself that I could win. Demons are watching me from the window. They try to convince me that I'm not worth it. These voices are killing me. I will try to escape, but i'll do it tomorrow. Now I'm late, I should go to sleep.

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