And I found myself in the school Writers community group and I never had the chance to contribute until this topic came up...
...Ghosting
They say ghosts don’t have shadows. Maybe that’s why I felt so invisible this week hovering somewhere between showing up and fading out. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t slip away with intention. I just... wasn’t there.
And before you ask, no, it wasn’t last week’s absence haunting me. I had reasons then. Solid ones. But this week? This week felt different.
Mxm,
Wait! Give me a break, I really missed last week topic - anxiety? I was in a block, Funny, isn’t it? How I could sit and scroll through everyone else’s work, nodding along to their words, feeling every bit of what they wrote, yet I couldn’t put down a single sentence of my own.
Writer’s block, they call it. But for me, it wasn’t just a block, it was a wall. Thick, unmoving, and annoyingly persistent. And instead of climbing it, I just...stopped. I ghosted the topic.
But here’s the twist, when this week’s topic dropped, ghosting, I felt seen. Or maybe called out. Because ghosting wasn’t just a word for me anymore; it was exactly what I had done. I disappeared. Quietly. No explanations. And the guilt? It sat heavy, like an unwelcome visitor I couldn’t ignore.
Now, let’s talk about ghosts for a second. Not the spooky, white-sheet kind. I mean the everyday kind, the friend who stops replying to your messages, the one who leaves without saying goodbye, the one who fades out of conversations and relationships like they were never there. It’s easy to judge those ghosts until you catch yourself becoming one.
Because let’s be honest, ghosting is easy. It’s silent and safe. No awkward confrontations, no messy emotions to sort through. Just a clean vanishing act. Or so it seems.
What no one tells you about ghosting is the part where it haunts you. The part where you replay the messages you left unread or the calls you ignored. The part where you see everyone moving forward while you’re still stuck at the place you ran from.
This week, just yesterday I became the ghost I swore I’d never be.
It wasn’t the dramatic kind of ghosting, no. Not the sudden silence or the sharp exit. It was softer, like pulling back slowly until the space I left felt natural. Like a whisper fading before anyone noticed it had stopped speaking.
But here’s the thing about ghosts.
They linger.
Even when no one sees them, they’re still there, watching, waiting, wandering through unfinished business. That’s what I did. I lingered. I watched words bloom from others, sharp and bright, while mine stayed locked away. I waited for inspiration to tap me on the shoulder, but it never came.
I tried to write on last with topic but the topic caught me. I questioned it.
This week topic also seems striking and yet, I wandered through silence, not sure if I was hiding or just lost.
And it was terrifying.
Because I know myself. I know my words. And I know that when they go quiet, it’s never forever. But in those empty moments, it feels like it could be. It feels like I might drift too far, slip too deep, and forget how to come back.
But ghosts can’t stay ghosts forever. At some point, they have to decide, fade completely or step back into the light.
So here I am.
Not perfect. Not polished. But here. Maybe I was a ghost for a moment last night. Maybe I disappeared long enough to wonder if anyone noticed. But even ghosts come back to haunt the things they love.
I am still unsure if I’ve fully crawled out of my block, but refusing to stay hidden. Because ghosting isn’t just about avoiding others; sometimes it’s about avoiding yourself, your fears, your doubts, your voice.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned this week, it’s that coming back, even with shaky words and unfinished thoughts, is better than staying gone.
And this? Writing? Showing up, even when the words are heavy? I love this.
Good morning.
So, no more ghosting. Not today. Not again.
This piece was originally written and submitted to my school writers' community
