Dear Ghoster,
It’s over.
I wish I could say this is easy for me, but we both know I’ve never been great at goodbyes. Funny, isn’t it? After all the times you’ve whisked me away from awkward conversations and suffocating expectations, here I am, finally forcing myself to stay long enough to say this: I can’t do this anymore.
You were my escape, my silent savior, my ever-reliable exit strategy. You knew exactly when to step in, pulling me into the sweet abyss of unread messages and conveniently forgotten obligations. You shielded me from the horrors of small talk, the weight of overdue responses, and the dreaded, stomach-churning phrase: We need to talk. With you, I never had to explain, to justify, to deal. I could just… vanish.
And oh, how I loved you for it. The thrill of the fade-out, the sweet relief of dodging responsibility with nothing more than a well-timed disappearance—it was intoxicating. They never understood you like I did. They called you selfish, cowardly, arrogant, cruel. But they didn’t see the way you protected me, how you made life feel just a little lighter. They didn’t know the joy of slipping away before things got too messy.
But deep down, I always knew this couldn’t last forever. Because for every conversation you helped me escape, you left behind a trail of confusion, disappointment, and people who maybe—just maybe—deserved better, people who maybe could have understood. You made things easier in the moment, but harder in the long run. The longer I let you stay, the heavier my conscience became, weighed down by all the words I never said and all the goodbyes I never gave.
So this is me, doing what I should have done a long time ago. No fading away, no silent retreat—just honesty. I don’t know if I’m ready to face every uncomfortable conversation, every awkward moment, every confrontation that makes me want to disappear. But I know I can’t keep running forever.
Goodbye, Ghoster. And this time, I mean it.
No longer yours,
The One Who Finally Stayed (On Purpose).