Static, after work, no one seemed to care about me, my phone was left with no notifications, I had nobody to go to, I could only go home and rest for the next day’s routine. It had been the same these past few months. No, almost two years now. I thought I was accustomed to this being alone thing, but the need for someone to be with was urgent and treacherous at times.

This might be the time where I least expected that depression would start to overwhelm me by heaps. I got into my car, started the engine, left myself at the prose from a wearied day, not even turning on the A.C. My mind wanted to give someone a call, to text someone, but my body was reluctant to do so.

“What is the purpose?” I questioned myself, “Of doing all these when no one really likes me, or cares about me.” I had no one to contact to because apparently I, single-handedly, severed most of the ties that bound to me, even the one that I loved most several years ago.

The heat started to creep in between my clothes, I began to feel queasy, a little giddy. Hallucination mildly took place, whispering dejection into me- pure silence. Solitude that was appalling, even I was content with the state I was in.

Minutes passed, no one called, no one messaged, no notifications. Nothing, no one needed my attention- me. Falling gradually, speeding hastily into the spiral of infinite abyss of loneliness, I could not even feel myself falling any more. My existence was simply, nothing.

Tears disguised in beads of sweats rolled down my cheeks, I did not know what to feel any more. Sadness, despondency, abandoned, rejection. No, I could no longer feel anything anymore, I just craved for the eternal silence that was with me since my new life began.

Oxygen started to decline, slowly but surely. My breath steadily reverting back to air. I could feel the ethereal heaven above me, or whatever that might be accompanying me for the rest of my other life.

Silence. The beating of my heart, deteriorating.

Suffocating. I could not care more about it.

As my mind started to coruscate glorious images from my past, that smile, hers, struck me the most. Deluge of vivid records of my past promise to myself resurfaced into my thick skull. Mustering the very last ounce of my energy, I lifted up my right hand, just high enough to reach the door handle.

“Why are you still fighting?” The inner voice wanted to demolish me.

I stood up, making my stand, regretting my choice due to my forgetful heart. My body collapsed, pushing most of my weight to wrench the door handle open. I fell into the tarred ground, gasping wildly for air by instinct.

Terrified by the face of death, I pulled myself together, let out cries of depression that was with me every single day, calling out, putting them out. The air never tasted so good, I was back again, rejuvenated anew.

Craving for more? Down below:
When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi (Book Review)
Love-Hate Relationship With Poems
Stewards
A Letter to Self
Blacked Out
My Journey With Music
I Murdered Myself

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