I Need Air

          I promised my best friends to quit posting suicidal stuff, but it’s just too hard to keep that promise. It’s not like my best friend is not important enough to make me keep my promise, but all those promises are connected in a complicated way and that it turned out that I find it’s hard to keep my own words. I feel the need to break my promise. It seems to me that people around me seem to not even care about keeping their promises at all, formally and informally.

          Why do people never care to keep their promises? If they can’t do what they say, why do they keep saying? Maybe they want us to fit in their norms to survive in their societies, but how can we be obedient leaders?

          Sorry, I’m not that obedient. Don’t make me feel stupid and obedient because of the fact that I’m young. I’m old enough to know who says the truth, or what is dark and light.

          This paradox is just not what I want, or is that what they want? They create norms for me to obey, but they do not comply with their own rules. What’s the point?

          Do they want to push me to calm myself by saying Hello to heroine? To buy a rope to hang myself or to go back to the start when we both know my bridge was already cut?

          Everyone wants to get away from depression/ / suicidal blocks the way/ /cuts the wing/. It’s very common for people to understand that, but I still think that only the one who is in the box can feel the suffocation – the trap, but sometimes when I was trapped in a box, I was convinced that I had been experiencing living in the real world, and Yes! I was fooled by the beauty I saw through the box’s cells, but how could the box have cells?

           It was all an illusion to fool me. I almost never knew what I was in. I just knew that I couldn’t straighten my legs and my arms. I couldn’t stand straight. I felt like I was literally in a 1m3 box with a barbed roof. I was queasy and the dizziness made me nervous each time I heard a voice, because I knew the voice was going to lure me to pull my mouth up and smile to show that I was grateful with the place they provided and the promises they made, but I knew I was just a project – a mouse for an experiment.

           What could I do to make my voice be heard? They’d say, “What are you to me to ask for that?”

           I knew the price I was after was very vague. It was on the edge of promises that were never fully kept. I had lost my voice for 4 months; they shut me up. I didn’t need an invisible shield to hide me. I was already invisible and completely ignored.

          When I was not strong enough to stay mute, I barely spoke up. My stories sucked; they were vague just like my future, my novel was never written more than a few hundred words. I bet my writing mentor would suggest me to tell her the reason why she would need to take a look at my writings.

          All in all, my points were ambiguous, absolutely elusive. But I have to say it now because I’m afraid I’d lose my voice forever if I stayed shut down.

          I really need distractions – I need a lot of works to do to make me calm down; I just need to be busy with those works to be able to forget where I’m at. I was so confused that I didn’t even know I needed help.

          I’m not asking for a complete change in my condition, I want improvement. I know maybe I need 70% of the oxygen to stay healthy, and I know I might not be able to lose my breath when I get only 10% of the oxygen they have provided in the box – I know it’s not enough to kill me; and I know I’d be able to survive through that, but I need my heart to beat less than 200 beat per minute. Give me at least 40% of the overall oxygen that I need to breathe.


6 Responses to “I Need Air”

  1. Sovathary Says:

    You’re sounding depressed. But I have to tell you a little bit anyway,

    First, I didn’t make you promise me anything about committing suicide. I just want you to paint me a picture of being suicidal-free. Just for a good memory, that’s more like a personal request. Write whatever you want, mate!

    Second, I’m sorry about your condition, not that I didn’t know how hard it is for you to be there. If I were you, I would have felt it one way or the other too.

    Third, you started to sound as if you’ve broken up with Edward! But that’s a good, at least you know how you feel, if not all.

    Fourth, I would be disappointed if you give up on writing.

    Fifth, I miss you to death!

  2. I know that you’re always be my best friend, but not forever – just until I’m dead. Sorry that I’m replying so late because I’m depressed like you said, but now I’m a little better. I just figured out how to deal with it and I actually came up with my new theory of life. Ah– I love how my brain works sometimes, you know.

    I’ve sent you some attachments through your mail, but you didn’t reply. It was about the National Novel Writing stuff for the whole November. I thought you might be interested.

    Oh–I didn’t give up on writing. What does a depression need to do with writing anyway? I don’t want to kill an innocent man because my bag was stolen, you know. I just wrote when I was depressed to let bad feelings out so that I would be just fine. Like re-born after dying, you know.

    I miss you too, doggie.

  3. Sovathary Says:

    What? Your bag was stolen? And so was your money? I was about to tell you before you went back there, you know, to be aware with all of your stuff, but I thought u might have thought about it already, so I didn’t say, and now…*sigh* like I thought.

    That was how I used to feel with depression. Don’t worry, I know u can cure it by urself. Writing is a therapy, it has to do with depression, like giving rebirth to you.

    I honestly didn’t see ur attachments, dog! But if u said about the photos, yes I got them and nothing more and I did reply with my photos too. Don’t u see?

  4. It was a metaphor, dude! I didn’t loose something for god sake! Besides, if I were to be taken something in public, I would fight till die to get my things back.

    The rest of it is fine.

    Well, I didn’t see anything from you. Did you send to the address? RE-send it, and I can see them.

  5. I am desperately looking for good drug rehab center in Bangladesh for a family member. My brother is dying. Can anyone help me save him?

  6. Hey Anamika,

    There is one good drug rehab center in Chittagong that I know. It’s a private rehab. It’s better than the government rehab center because there are addicts who actually got better and stayed working in the rehab.

    Please check this website below to understand some term and the treatment there:


    I have the contact number of the manager there so if you are interested in sending your brother there please send me an e-mail through neysometa@gmail.com so that I will send you back the contact number.

    I hope it will be helpful for you and your brother. Please contact and check the website as soon as possible.


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