The fatal victory

Modern existence has transformed into a peculiar form of slow suicide, where individuals find themselves trapped in a "life" that systematically destroys them. Each day becomes another step in a march toward exhaustion, driven by the relentless demands of perpetual productivity. The anxiety of this condition grips them like a vice, tightening with each notification, each urgent request, each reminder that their value exists only in their capacity to produce.

This perverse system demands total availability, a complete surrender of personal boundaries and private space. The distinction between work and life dissolves, not because work has become more humane, but because life has been colonized by the logic of production. Every moment of rest becomes marked by guilt, every pause feels like failure, and the very notion of personal time transforms into a luxury that feels undeserved.

The ultimate irony lies in how this pursuit of "winning" requires a systematic abandonment of everything that makes life worth living. Relationships wither under the weight of constant unavailability, passions are indefinitely postponed, and health – both mental and physical – deteriorates in the name of productivity. In this grotesque game, the price of success is the complete surrender of one's humanity, a victory that tastes like ash in the mouth of those who achieve it.