Ghosting had felt like the easy way out, but i soon realized it wasn’t without consequences. Silence, i discovered, had its own weight a weight that lingered long after the messages stopped.
I never thought i would become the kind of person who ghosts. I've always believed in honesty, in telling people the truth no matter how much it stung. But when it came to my friend Jay, everything felt different.
(Image from me)
We met online, through a friend of mine and at first, the connection was instant. We stayed up late talking about everything music, gospel, work, the friend that connected us, and dreams of the future. He was attentive, workacholic, always the first to text in the morning and the last voice in my ear at night. For a while, I thought have found someone who truly understood me.
But as the weeks rolled on, i began to notice small cracks. He wanted constant attention, constant reassurance. If i didn’t reply within minutes, he would flood my phone with “Are you busy?” or “Did I do something wrong?” At first, i brushed it off as sweet, maybe even flattering. But gradually, the sweetness turned sour. His neediness began to suffocate me.
One evening, after yet another draining call that left my feeling like a therapist instead of a partner, i set my phone down and sighed. I thought about texting him: Jay, I don’t think this is working. I need space. But the words refused to leave my fingertips. I imagined his reaction anger, tears, more questions i couldn’t answer. The thought of confrontation made my chest tighten.
So I didn’t text. I didn’t call. I simply disappeared.
The first day, Jay sent her a simple, “Good morning ❤️.” I read it but didn’t reply. The second day, his messages grew longer: Desire, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? Please talk to me. By the end of the week, his tone had shifted from concern to quiet desperation. Then, finally, silence.
I told myself i did the right thing. That cutting him off without explanation was kinder than dragging things out. But late at night, when I scrolled through my old messages, guilt pressed heavily on my chest. I imagined Jay sitting in his room, replaying every conversation, wondering what he had done to push me away. The thought unsettled me.
Weeks turned into months, and still, i thought about reaching out. She wanted to say, “I’m sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know how to say goodbye.” But every time i drafted the message, fear stopped me. What if he ignored me? What if he hated me now? Or worse, what if reopening the door brought me back into the very cycle I had run away from?
I waited if he would send me any message again and that was how he stopped checking on sending messages to me.
As my silence stretched into permanence, i couldn’t help but wonder if i could go back, would I have chosen words instead?
