είναι κόμπλεξ να νιώθεις σκατένια μες στα κλισέ σου
είναι σκατά να νιώθεις κλισέ μες στα κόμπλεξ σου



I lost my obsessions. there’s nothing. I 'm not able to be obsessed about anything. Not in a legal way. At least.
There is no interest in being a stalker anymore.
In a legal way. At least.
There's nothing there. It's not just boredom. It's a weird, constant situation. One of the really annoying ones. I need the sweet routine of searching for secrets easily placed in common view with the security that people's blindness provides.
No other routine have made me such a needy nature.

I need to be obsessed again. I need my drug. I need my tools, my preparation, my schedule. I seek the relief of putting some things in order. The chaotic one. In a strange way. I need my disguise, my chekings. The pick of my anxieties. I need that huge pile of meaningless stuff around my mind to keep it busy.

I need my obsessions.