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​The last few days I’ve been thinking of David Daroczi quite a lot. He was a Hungarian journalist, coach and spokesperson for the former government in Hungary. He committed suicide 6 years ago. He was someone I really liked in the Hungarian political palette. He came from very poor Hungarian minority and made it up to the top of society. What really haunts me  is what his friend and colleague said about him. ‘He had been fighting with his demons all his life. And these demons were stronger last night [the night of his suicide] and he lost his battle’ (not a word by word quote, sorry)
I never really understood it. It deeply saddened me, someone so successful losing their battle but I never understood it. Not until now.

I’m fighting to stay afloat and then I feel better and something happens and I fall again and then I have to fight hard again and again and in the meantime everything makes less and less sense. I just look at the world weakened, bitter and grey, the flowers are no longer that colourful and the world is fading. And I fight. I still fight. But these demons are strong. And I see less and less what I’m fighting for. No, I don’t want to give up. I cannot give up for some reason. But to live this life is a misery. Tears are no longer coming. Somehow my soul is dying. Is there a way up from here? Is there a point going up? And how am I supposed to go up? Why am I still fighting? Why don’t I just give up? Why does it hurt the world is bad? Why does it hurt if they hurt me when I’m not worth it at all? I deserve it. Or not? Is there something behind that big dark cloud worth living for? Worth fighting for? I fight. Because I cannot give up. And today I yet defeat my demons.

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